Page 20 of The Merger
We wind our way through the building, passing trays of pastries and a glass case of baked goods. The closer we get to Gannon, the more nervous I get. My palms sweat as I clench my bag for dear life.
“Can I ask you a question?” I say, my voice low.
She smiles. “Of course.”
“Does Mr. Brewer come here often?”
“A few days a week, I’d say. I don’t usually work this early, but the other girls say he’s a regular.”
“Does he have a lot of business meetings this early?” I pry.
“Funnily enough, you are the first person we can remember ever joining him. It’s a running joke between us. How is a man that attractive always alone? It’s criminal.”
We laugh, and I play it off. But inside, I’m kicking my feet. It’s a boost of confidence to know I’m the only person, let alone the only woman, to join him here.
I’m not sure what that means, but I’ll take it.
“If he mentions me, I’m single,” she whispers, stopping next to a column. “There he is. Try not to drool.”
I follow her line of sight, nearly tripping over my own feet. “Wow.”
“I know.” She giggles. “Good luck.”
“Tha—yeah,” I say as I feast my eyes on Gannon.I’m stumbling over my words already. Fabulous.
He sits at a table with a coffee cup in front of him. His long legs are clad in black jeans, and a black T-shirt hugs his torso like a second skin. It teases the sexy line from his shoulder to his neck and highlights how fit the man is. An olive-colored jacket hangs on the back of a chair next to him. White sneakers give the look ahot millennial CEO at the top, sexy-as-sin playboy at the bottomvibe, and I am here for it.
He looks up from an actual newspaper, and the corner of his lip twitches beneath a dusting of scruff.
My God.
His brows lift slowly. “You came.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” I ask.
He stands quickly and pulls out my chair.
“Thank you,” I say, sitting down.
He resumes his place across the table, leaving me behind in a cloud of his delicious cologne.
“I didn’t know they still print newspapers,” I say, setting my purse on the vacant chair to my right.
“It would be much cheaper to read the news online, but I abhor the thought of a world with no tangible words.”
Okay, that’s hot as hell.
A server approaches us out of thin air with a carafe of coffee in hand. “Coffee for you, miss?”
“Yes, that would be great. Thank you … Joseph,” I say, reading his name tag.
He pours me a cup, leaves a menu, and promises to return.
“I figured a matcha latte was out of the question,” I say, earning the smallest sparkle in Gannon’s eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to see me this morning.”
His lips twitch. “You’re down to four minutes. You better get talking.”
“Why are you always so grumpy?”
