The man oozed confidence.
She smoothed her skirt and sat primly on the edge of her chair.
“I think that might be the cleanest desk I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Dilson said, resting his elbows on the chair arms and threading his fingers together over his impressive chest.
“I like to keep things tidy,” she said. Almost to the point of being compulsive about it. If she had a therapist he would probably tell her it was a direct result of her chaotic adolescence. But her past was what it was, and rehashing it to a mental health professional wouldn’t change it.
“I see that,” he said, and something about the way he studied her made her want to squirm in her seat.
“I understand you’ll be honored with an outstanding achieve ment award at the Hannah’s Hope gala later this month. Congratulations.”
“Seeing as how every grade school student can do what I just learned, I don’t see the big deal, but they insisted.”
Gorgeous, polite and humble. Three traits that went well together. There was nothing she detested more than an arrogant man. And she had known her share.
“Did Ana explain to you what it is I do for the foundation?” she asked him.
“Not exactly.”
“I’m an event planner and image consultant.”
One brow rose slightly. “Image consultant?”
“I help people look and feel good about themselves.”
“Well, no offense, but I’m pretty happy with myself just the way I am.”
And he had every reason to be. But in her experience everyone had room for improvement.
“Have you ever been in the spotlight before, Mr. Dilson? Given a speech on stage?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Then my job is to give you an idea of what you should expect when you accept your award. To prepare you for the formal atmosphere of the gala. Which, as an event planner, I am also organizing.”
“So in other words, you’re going to see that I don’t make a fool out of myself. Or the foundation.”
She didn’t think that was going to be an issue. With looks like his, he would have a tremendous stage presence. She could see why Ana chose to use him as the organization’s poster child. “So you feel comfortable,” she said.
“Well, I’m not big on crowds. I usually prefer to keep things one-on-one. If you know what I mean,” he said with a wink.
If he was trying to fluster her, it was working.
She pulled a notepad and pen from the top drawer of her desk. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself.”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I was born in California and raised all over the country. I’ve spent the last fourteen years working as a ranch hand.”
She had the distinct feeling there was a lot more to his life than that. Like how he managed to make it into adulthood without learning to read. But she wasn’t quite sure how to word the question. Hannah’s Hope was a dream client. It could thrust her company, Premier Image and Planning LLC, into the big time. The last thing she wanted to do was offend their star pupil.
She chose her next words carefully. “How is it you came to work with the foundation, Mr. Dilson?”
“It’s Brandon,” he said, flashing her that easy smile. “And I think what you really want to know is how a man can make it to thirty without learning to read.”
He might have had literacy challenges, but he was a smart man. “How did you?”
“My mom died when I was young and my dad worked the rodeo so we moved around a lot when I was a kid. When he did manage to enroll me in school, I didn’t stay in one place long enough to learn anything. I guess you could say I fell through the cracks.”
It was sad to think how far he could have gone had he been given the proper education. “What motivated you to seek help?”
“My boss said he would make me a foreman of the ranch, but I had to improve my reading skills first, so here I am.”
“Are you married?”
“Nope.”
“Children?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
She shot him a look, and that sizzling smile tipped up the corners of his mouth again. She wondered if he had any clue how gorgeous he was.
“Just kidding,” he said.
Oh, yeah, he knew. “So that’s a no?”
“No kids.”
“Significant other?”
One brow rose up. “Why? You interested in the position?”
Oh, he had no idea. But she’d sworn a long time ago when, thanks to her mom’s latest bum boyfriend, they were kicked out of their dumpy trailer and forced to live in an even dumpier women’s shelter, she would only date educated, financially successful men. The kind who wouldn’t steal next month’s rent from her purse and use it to buy drugs or cheap whiskey, or gamble it away on a sure-thing horse.
Not that she had reason to believe Brandon was anything like her mom’s loser boyfriends. She was sure he was a perfectly nice man. And he was incredibly easy on the eyes. Like … tangy eye candy. The kind that fizzed in her mouth and made it water. He just wasn’t the kind of man she would ever date. His financial situation aside, he was too … something. Too sexy and charming. She wasn’t looking to be swept off her feet. What she wanted was a responsible, dependable, safe man. A man as driven and dedicated to his career as she was to hers. An equal. One who could take care of her if the need arose. Not that anyone ever had to before. She’d always taken care of herself. But it never hurt to have a backup plan.
“I only wondered if you’ll need an extra ticket for the gala,” she said.
“No, ma’am, I don’t need an extra ticket.”
It didn’t escape her attention that he’d managed to answer, yet still avoid the subject of a significant other. Not that it was important she know. In fact, it was probably better that she didn’t.
“I don’t suppose you own a tuxedo,” she said.
He laughed. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”
The ma’am thing was going to get old fast. She set her pen down. “You can call me Paige.”
“Okay … Paige.”
Something about the way he said her name made her face feel hot. In fact, she was beginning to sweat under her designer suit. She seriously needed to check the thermostat. Maybe the air-conditioning was on the fritz.
