Page 8 of Takeover

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.” For the first time ever, he smiles at me. Not a smirk like he did this morning, but a genuine smile, showing off his perfectly straight teeth.

“You do have manners,” he teases.

“I do,” I admit. “Surprised?”

“I am.”

“Well, let me apologize for my behavior then. I’m sorry you find me rude, Mr. Bradford.” I make sure to enunciate his last name.

“That’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard. You’re not sorry that you were rude, only that I found you to be rude.”

Damn, he’s good.

“I apologize for my behavior on the day we met and when you called me.” I turn my back on him and start to walk away. “Let’s find Vinnie so we can finish up.”

I turn the corner with him following very close behind me. I can practically feel the heat rolling off his body, but thankfully the most adorable little boy is close by, throwing action figures in the cart.

“Hey, kiddo,” I say, exhaling a breath of relief at not being alone with his father anymore. I run a hand over his spiked hair, careful not to mess it up. “What else do we need? Looks like you have a full cart. Did you get anything for yourself?” I ask as I look inside the cart.

“I sent Santa my list already,” he says as he tries to push the cart, his head barely reaching over the handle. “Last year, Daddy made peanut butter cookies for Santa.” I look over at Ethan, unable to imagine him in the kitchen baking cookies with a toddler. He stares back at me until I look away, unwilling to play this game with him right now.

“Really? Your dad cooks?” I ask, intrigued.

“It’s not always so good. He burns stuff a lot.” I don’t even try to hold back my giggle at the thought of Ethan burning dinner in what I’m sure is his designer kitchen.

“Yeah? What else does he mess up?” This time, I sneak a peek at him, but he’s not smirking at me for once. He’s looking down and smiling fondly at his son.

“He tried to do the laundry once.” Vinnie doesn’t say any more, but he slaps his palm on his forehead, and I can’t help but chuckle. He laughs too, and suddenly, he becomes talkative. “Susan yelled at him.” He giggles at that, and I can’t help but wonder who Susan is. When I turn to Ethan, he arches his eyebrows at me and smirks.

“Susan is my housekeeper,” he explains.

I shrug in indifference, but his eyes bore into mine, and I feel exposed.

“Your housekeeper yells at you?” I scratch my head, unable to imagine a world where this man gets a dressing down by someone who works for him.

“All the damn time. She’s been with me for years. Sometimes she acts like she’s the boss,” Ethan says.

“All the time,” Vincent says. “She makes me eat broccoli.” He makes a face before making gagging noises.

“Well,” I say, still shocked by what I just heard, “at least your dad can make cookies. Peanut butter cookies are my favorite.”

6

She’s ignoring me again, but I don’t care because I get to watch her ass as she helps Vincent steer the cart. The tight jeans are a contrast to the tailored pantsuit she wore at our first meeting. She’s all curves in a small package. Not my type at all. I prefer long legs that can be wrapped around me, but I admit that her body is lithe underneath her expensive clothes.

I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind for two weeks, and the scene with her and the little boy from the office is the one I replay most in my mind. That and the very first second I laid eyes on her. I knew John’s daughter worked for him, but I never imagined she would be so damn beautiful. Of course not. Almost everyone I’ve been involved with has been a long-legged blonde. I wasn’t prepared for a bronzed warrior in stilettos shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

My son’s loud laugh pulls me from my thoughts, and I’m ecstatic when she reaches over and casually throws an arm across Vincent’s skinny shoulders. He takes a step closer to her, looks up at her face, and smiles. She smiles down at him and taps the tip of his nose with her index finger. My son giggles at the gesture.

The scene stirs something inside of me, something I’ve been missing for a long time. Hell, it’s something I know I’ve never had before. When they finally reach the checkout, I stand there a moment as they unload the cart before finally walking over to help. Tara and I grab an action figure pack at the same time, and I intentionally touch the top of her hand with my index finger. As if my touch burned her, she drops the toy, her eyes uncertain as she looks at me.

She quickly looks away and reaches into the cart for something else, avoiding all further eye contact with me. But whether she looks at me or not, I know she feels the same electrical charge I do. And as much as I will it to stop, the erratic beating of my heart won’t quit.

She pretends to be busy, looking at everything Vincent picked out, her voice a little bit too high for it to be natural. I sneak her game of Scrabble in while she laughs with Vincent.

“You have that?” I hear her ask. “You know, that came out the year I was born. I have the very first one that was made. My dad said he made sure the bear had my eyes.” Her shoulders puff out with pride at the mention of her father. She’s holding up a teddy bear from the display by the cash register and runs a hand over its fur. It’s a signature bear that comes out every holiday season. She sighs wistfully and bites her bottom lip. She sniffs before slowly putting the bear back down. When she looks up again and finds me looking at her, she quickly averts her gaze and focuses on Vincent.

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