Page 3 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

By the time he got to the café, the line was out the door, lured by the aroma of roasted beans and freshly baked pastries. Cursing under his breath, he scanned the space for the manager, only to find the man hustling to fill orders along with the dark-haired barista, a woman half-hidden behind the gleaming steel of an industrial espresso machine.

Sighing, he resigned himself to calling Hector from his office upstairs—and settling for coffee from his pod machine.

Then the barista behind the machine moved into view.

Garrett blinked.No, it can’t be.

The woman manning the espresso machine just looked like Emma, but it couldn’t possibly be her.

Emmaline Mendez was a Wall Street power broker by now. In high school, she had been determined to storm those halls of power and take no prisoners. Her job would involve wearing suits and spiked heels she would use to step all over her competition. There was no way she’d be working as a bar—shit.

“Em,” he breathed in shock. The kid had called his coworkerEm, the one being sexually harassed.

No, this was just a coincidence. Garrett was overly tired and imagining things. A second look would prove that. But the barista had her head down, a long side braid covering what was visible of her face.

Then she turned, a sunny smile stretching plush rose lips as she set a to-go cup on the counter next to her.

“Macchiato for Evans!” she called.

The blood drained out of his head at the sound of her voice.

“Emmy,” he whispered, the tips of his fingers going numb. He tried to walk toward her, to make sure.

He stumbled, unable to catch himself before he crashed into a tiny two-person table, jostling the coffee mug on it. He didn’t hit it hard enough to knock it over, but enough of it spilled that the woman sitting at the table jumped up with a gasp.

“I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing the napkins next to the cup to mop up the mess.

“Oh, that’s okay, Mr. Chapman,” the woman said a little breathlessly.

He blinked down at the blonde, belatedly recognizing the woman as Fletcher’s new PA, the pretty young thing his partner had hired when his former assistant had decided not to continue after they moved offices.

Speaking of lawsuits waiting to happen.

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “Only a bit spilled.”

“Here, let me get that.”

Garrett froze as the Emma look-alike stepped up to the table. She held out a white towel, wiping down the table with quick, efficient strokes.

Fine dark brows, thick sooty lashes, and cheekbones that would have done a twig-sized supermodel proud—a feature totally at odds with the curves that had grown even lusher over the years.

There was no doubt about it. Emmaline Mendez was working as a barista in his building.

Garrett held his breath, the universe pausing as he waited for her to look up. Then she did.

“Did you need one too?” she asked, her caramel-colored eyes meeting his.

Garrett froze, waiting for the moment of recognition. But it never came. She juststoodthere, holding out a paper towel, that friendly but impersonal smile fading as the moment stretched. He might as well have been a stranger off the street.

“I’ll take one,” the blonde said when he didn’t move.

Emma turned to the blonde with a graceful sweep of her hands—as if she lived to serve and be helpful!

She handed her several brown paper towels before the manager called out to her. Then she was gone, ducking behind the counter without a second glance.

“Can I get you a coffee before I go up, Mr. Chapman?” theblonde offered.

Garrett shook his head, irritated when the small motion made him dizzy.

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