Page 12 of Negotiating Tactics

Of course, my mind drifted to Noah.

As I selected the outfit for the day—gray slacks, burgundy-red button-down shirt, matching gray jacket—I wondered what he would think.

Not like it mattered, but still, I wondered.

I shouldn’t have.

I’d met the man three times, attacked him with an umbrella, and stolen his bedroom.

But my reaction to him was something I couldn’t understand.

Or deny.

I knew from Birdie that Noah traveled all over the world, and one glance at him, and I knew he didn’t lack female attention.

Just as I knew I didn’t qualify for even a first glance from him, let alone a second.

I stared at my image in the mirror, seeing so much of my mother that I certainly couldn’t hate the reflection staring back at me, but acknowledging that I didn’t measure up.

“Oh well, fuck ’em,” I said to myself then tackled my hair.

When I was as ready as I could be, I went downstairs.

Or more accurately, was led downstairs, the scent coming from the kitchen—coffee, for sure, and other delicious-smelling breakfast things—guiding the way.

“Good morning, Noah,” I said breezily.

I wasn’t sure why I had said anything but chalked it up to surprise at the sight that greeted me.

Noah, with his giant self, was standing at the sink.

“Don’t you guys have people to wash dishes for you?” I asked.

“Good morning, Alex. I made coffee. And eggs. Have some,” Noah said.

I listened to the deep, soothing timbre of his voice, felt like I was being hypnotized by it, and then processed what it said.

“You made me breakfast?” I asked as I moved deeper into the kitchen.

“No, I made myself breakfast, and there just so happens to be enough for you. No reason for it to go to waste,” he said.

He finished the dishes, then leaned against the counter, looking at me.

I felt…something under his gaze, so I focused my attention on the bistro table, where a carafe of coffee was sitting.

“So, eggs?” he asked.

His voice was even, lacking inflection.

I was thrown off by the offer, but the grumble in my stomach made the decision for me. “Sure.”

After I sat down, I poured a cup of coffee and took a sip.

It was fucking phenomenal, and I was a girl who didn’t play about her coffee.

I looked around the kitchen and saw a fancy machine.

“You ground beans this morning?” I asked.

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