Dane's Storm(21)

“Dane . . . Mr. Townsend, are you sure you don’t—”

“Very sure, Tina. Thank you.” He looked at me. “Do you want to come to my office, or—”

“Yes, your office would be good. Thank you.”

He gave another small nod, his eyes lingering on my face before he broke eye contact again. “This way.” Valentina give a small huff, before I heard the click of her heels, and the door opening and closing behind me. I followed Dane, my heartbeat still thundering in my ears. I took a deep breath, attempting to collect myself as he turned his head to make sure I was following him. He turned into a doorway to his right and held the door for me as I entered the room.

His office was spacious with windows that overlooked a courtyard surrounded by palm trees, an elegant fountain in the center. There was a sleek black L-shaped desk in front of the windows with piles of papers littering every surface. Apparently, Dane Townsend was still as untidy as he’d been as a teenage boy.

Directly in front of me was a small seating area and to the right of that, I spotted a table that held what appeared to be a miniature version of . . . I began walking toward it. “Is this the industrial park you’re building in Laurelton?” I asked.

He frowned but nodded. I looked back at it, walking along one side and then turning to walk along the other as I took in the details of the scale model. Truthfully, it was beautiful. There was even a miniature version of the mountain range I looked at every day from my office window. There were office buildings toward the middle, but they all looked to be no more than three levels, presumably so none of them obscured the view. Around that were shops and cobblestone streets, each corner with light posts where overflowing pots of flowers hung. It almost looked like an upscale Swiss village. Around the perimeter were restaurants including outdoor patios.

Thistle and Thatch had absolutely become prime real estate. If I knew it was still mine, I’d consider the location of my warehouse in reference to the industrial park a wonderful stroke of luck. I could see brides coming to my shop and then walking to any number of excellent restaurants where they could lunch with their mother or bridal party. Just the thought of the business it might bring was a staggering blow.

I turned toward Dane to see that he was still watching me, an unreadable expression on his face. He moved away from the door and walked toward me, indicating the sitting area, which consisted of a modern set of gray upholstered couches with a shiny white table between them. I shook my head, too filled with nerves to relax, too antsy to sit. I laced my fingers in front of me as I really took him in. He was as gorgeous as ever, more so, actually. Damn him. Time had been good to Dane Townsend. He had always been striking with his classic bone structure and those light eyes that contrasted beautifully with his dark hair. But age had brought a . . . rugged quality to his good looks that only added to his masculinity. His jaw seemed squarer, his cheekbones sharper, and he had dark scruff on his jaw—not a beard, but not as clean-shaven as I remembered him either. As if he’d followed my thoughts, he reached a hand up and stroked his chin.

“I’m”—he shook his head—“surprised to see you, Audra.”

“Are you?”

His brow furrowed and one side of his lips tilted. “Yes. Shocked actually. What are you doing here? And how did you know about the industrial park?”

Anger raced through me. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t received any of my messages?”

He blinked and then brought his head back slightly. “Messages?”

“Yes. I left you about a thousand phone messages over the last week, and when you couldn’t be bothered to respond to those, I flew here. I’ve been sitting in your waiting room for two days.”

He took a step to the edge of one of the couches and sat on the arm, his expression a study in confusion. “Wait, what?”

I watched him for a moment, a trickle of doubt moving through me. “You haven’t received my messages?” I asked incredulously.

He shook his head slowly. “Not one. I would have called you back.” He stood up suddenly and walked to his desk, where he moved some papers aside and picked up the receiver on his phone, hitting a button.

“Yes, Mr. Townsend,” came Valentina’s voice from the speaker.

“Come in here please, Tina.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dane replaced the receiver and looked up, his jaw ticking. When I heard the clicking of heels coming toward his office, I looked away from him to the door. A sharp knock sounded and Dane called, “Come in.”

Valentina entered, shooting me a glare before smiling sweetly at Dane. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Aud—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Ms. Kelley tells me she’s left several messages, messages that I never received. I’d like to know why.”

A shadow of what looked to be nervousness flashed in Valentina’s expression before she smiled again. “I left the messages on your desk, sir.”

Dane glanced at his desk and then back at Valentina. Without being asked, she sashayed over to his desk, moved a large pile of papers aside, and pulled out a small stack of what looked to be phone messages. Seriously? Had she placed them there this morning . . . just in case I came back. But why? “You really should let me tidy your office, Mr. Townsend. As I told you, I’d be happy to. Anytime. Even after hours.” I couldn’t see her face from where I stood, but her tone was flirtatious. So that’s why. Dane looked annoyed—thankfully, at her—and took the messages from her outstretched hand, quickly looking at them and then placing them back on his desk.