The Boss Who Stole Her Heart. Jennifer Taylor

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The Boss Who Stole Her Heart - Jennifer  Taylor

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      Daniel stepped back so that Eleanor could go ahead of him but she merely glanced into the room. Her eyes swept over the soft café-au-lait-coloured carpet and matching curtains and he found it impossible to decide if she liked what she saw or not. It had been the same with every room—a swift glance, a brief nod, and that had been it. Even though he knew it was ridiculous to feel even the tiniest bit miffed, he couldn’t help it.

      ‘So what do you think?’ he said, trying to mask his disappointment. She wasn’t to know how much effort he had expended getting the place ready for her. She had no idea that he had devoted a whole weekend just to choosing the colour for the walls or that buying new curtains had been such a nightmare—widths and lengths, patterned or plain—it had been like tiptoeing through a minefield! However, all the effort he’d expended wouldn’t be worth a brass farthing if she didn’t like it.

      ‘I don’t know what to say.’

      She sank down onto the sofa and stared around the bright and airy living room. He’d chosen sheer curtains for in here—well, he hadn’t actually chosen them but had gone with what the sales assistant had advised—and he had been particularly pleased with the result. The view from the window was spectacular, the greens and mauves of the surrounding hills shown to advantage without heavy curtains to detract from it. But had he made an error of judgement? Would Eleanor have preferred something more substantial, more private?

      ‘Look, I understand if you want to change things,’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t think you have to live with what I’ve chosen...’

      ‘I love it. The walls, the curtains. Everything.’ She looked up and he could see tears shimmering in her eyes. ‘I never expected this, Daniel. Thank you so much. It’s perfect.’

      ‘I’m glad you like it.’ Daniel felt a lump come to his throat and had to swallow hard. He dredged up a rather rusty laugh. ‘I had a horrible feeling that you loathed the place when you didn’t say anything.’

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