of flavors I’ve ever experienced. Ambrosia.”
“Thank you. I’ll tuck that away for a new cookie name.”
But then she saw she might not have distracted him quite as completely as she hoped, because he was watching her way too closely. She felt as if his eyes locked on the faint quiver of her lip.
“My company has an event coming up, a charity ball in support of this same goal, to raise funds for the new wing of Children’s. Do you think I could get you to supply some of these?”
Bree’s mouth fell open.
“Of course,” Chelsea said smoothly.
“I’m sure they will be planning some kind of midnight snack or party favor,” Brand said. “Have you a card? I’ll give it to my event planner, and she’ll be in touch.”
Being around him was a roller-coaster ride, Bree thought, as she turned, flustered, to get him her business card. For a stunning moment she had thought he was showing interest in her. He’d quickly doused that by saying his event planner would be in touch.
This kind of opportunity was exactly why she was at this event, Bree reminded herself firmly, turning with a bright, hopefully professional, smile to give him the card.
He slipped the card into his inside jacket pocket, and popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth. It drew her attention, unfortunately, to the rather sensuous curve of his lips as he chewed.
“Do you want to go for a quick coffee?” he asked her.
A roller-coaster ride!
The invitation seemed to take him by surprise as much as it did her.
“R-right now?” she stammered. “Things are just about to begin. See? People are going through to the auditorium. The program said Crystal Silvers is going to sing first.”
“I don’t care about that.”
One of the most sought-after performers in the Western world, and he didn’t care about that? He cared more about having coffee with her?
This was dangerous territory indeed.
Bree gestured helplessly at her display. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly—”
“You’re going for coffee,” insisted Chelsea, who had never had a stubborn moment in her life—she was certainly changing things up tonight. Her tone was firm, brooking no argument.
“No.” Bree aimed her best who-is-the-boss-here? look at her assistant.
Chelsea ignored it. “Go, I can handle this.”
“No, I—”
“Go!” Chelsea said, and then, under her breath, she added, “Live dangerously, for Pete’s sake.”
“Unless your husband would object,” Brand said smoothly.
Chelsea snorted in a most unflattering way.
Brand’s gaze slid to Bree’s ring finger. She wanted to hide it behind her back as if its nakedness heralded some kind of failure.
“Boyfriend, then.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
She was as oblivious to the daggered look Bree gave her as she had been to the who-is-the-boss-here? look.
“The last guy she met on e-Us was a loser.”
Since Chelsea was so adept at ignoring Bree’s looks, dancing happily with insubordination, Bree managed to step hard on her foot before she could elaborate on the e-Us thing. Chelsea gave her a sulky look, but clamped her mouth shut.
Even so, damage had been done. Bree could see him registering what e-Us was.
One thing that was obvious about someone like Brand Wallace? He’d never been on a site like e-Us in his life.
“We’ll just go around the corner,” he said persuasively. “Two old friends catching up.”
“Old friends,” Chelsea breathed. “Do you have, uh, a significant other, Mr. Wallace?”
“Does my dog count?”
Chelsea gave Bree a not-so-subtle nudge on her shoulder.
“I don’t think—” Bree began.
“I’m interested in your business. You’ll be back in half an hour,” he assured Bree. “The first set will have hardly started. These things never go off quite on time.”
Meaning he was very familiar with these things. Big surprise.
“I’ll have you back before intermission.”
“I bet he won’t stick you with the bill, either,” Chelsea said helpfully, sidling out of the way before Bree could get her foot again.
The firm line of his mouth registered disapproval as he registered that morsel of information about the sad state of Bree’s dating life.
“Your young assistant looks more than capable of finishing the setup here.” His voice was suave.
Chelsea preened. “More than capable,” she said, and flipped her hair.
It would seem churlish to refuse. It would seem like she was afraid of him, and life and surprises and the very thing she tried to bake into all her cookies.
Magic.
It was that magical thinking that always got her in trouble, Bree reminded herself. He had mentioned business. She was not in a position to turn down this kind of connection to the business world.
“All right,” she said, resigned. “A quick coffee.”
Bree came face-to-face with her truth. She was terrified of believing in good things.
And terrified especially to believe in the happily-ever-after that men like him had made women like her yearn for since the beginning of time.
“For goodness sake,” Chelsea said in an undertone, “lose the apron. And do something with your hair.”
She ran a hand through it, and followed Brand, tilting her chin at him when he held the door open for her.
It was a beautiful spring evening in Vancouver, and Bree was aware her senses felt oddly heightened. The air smelled good from a recent rain, and plump crystal droplets fell from the blossom-laden branches of the ornamental cherry trees that lined the sidewalk.
There were two coffee places around the corner from the concert hall, and Bree liked it that Brand chose the independent shop, Perks, rather than the one that was part of a big chain.
It was cozy inside, with mismatched sofas and scarred old tables with brightly painted chairs clustered around them. It smelled heavenly, of coffee and exotic spices.
