Page 10 of Undercover Billionaire

"Thank you." He sipped his orange juice and lowered his own utensils. "Hopefully, Cynthia will be similarly impressed."

"Hopefully, Cynthia will be long gone before she has the chance to enjoy breakfast." She raised her glass.

"Hear, hear." An ever-so-sly smile eased his strong features. "So boss, ready to begin?"

She couldn't help but smile at his boyish expression. What an enigma he was, so serious and strong one moment, so playful the next. Who was the real Drake Alexander? Soon, she would find out.

She rubbed her hands together. "Here’s how we’ll do this. Basically, you need to learn all about me and we both need to learn about the fictional character you'll be playing. I'll start with some simple facts. First..."

"I object."

She froze in mid-sentence. "You can’t object."

"I just did."

She narrowed her eyes, reminded herself that throwing French toast at actors was poor form. "What could you possibly object to?"

"The plan. It's unsatisfactory." He crossed his arms over his chest, a motion that gave the impression of a brick wall. A very attractive, unmovable brick wall.

If this was the meekest man at the entireActors Association, what were the strong ones like? “Since you find my methods so objectionable, could you please explain exactly what bothers you. You do know why you were hired, don’t you?"

"Oh, absolutely." He nodded succinctly. "It’s not the entire plan I object to."

She should probably consider herself fortunate. He showed no unease as he continued, "Obviously, I need to learn all about you to convince your cousin of our deep love for each other. I simply object to the creation of a fictional character for me."

She lifted her arms. "But we have to make up a character for you. We can't go with traveling actor who lives out of town and knows nothing about me. No offense, but you're the exact antithesis of what I described."

Drake rolled his eyes. "I remember – Marshmellowman with an emphasis on the mellow."

Kaitlyn grimaced, and he laughed. "Of course, we need to come up with a fictitious set of credentials for me – occupation, activities I partake in, things like that. But as far as my personal character goes, that's staying the same. This is who I am, and this is who I’m staying."

"But that’s impossible," she growled. "I told Cynthia that..."

"I know what you told her," he interrupted, "and I'm truly sorry. I just can’t pretend to be something I’m not. I’m an..."

"Wait let me guess. You’re an arteeest."

A smile rounded his lips. "Exactly. So it’s your call. Either I act like me, or you hire some poodle to play the role. Literally."

Why that domineering, arrogant, too-handsome for his own good…ahem. She didn’t have time to hire another actor, or even a poodle for that matter, and he knew it. With no other option, she would have to give in.

But only on this point. He mustn't think he would always get the best of her. One usually got further with charm and cunning than with argument. Time to beat Mr. Drake Alexander at his own game.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, nothing," she hedged. "It’s just I forgot to mention your profession. You see, Cynthia seems to have gotten the idea you are...well she believes…" She paused for dramatic measure. "You’re my personal assistant."

Silence.

Then…"Personal assistant?" Drake echoed. "I’m the personal assistant of the owner ofThe Candy Cane?"

"And a very good one at that." Kaitlyn winked. "I told her you’re exceptional at sorting measuring spoons.”

Danger swirled. Time to finish her sweet revenge before the volcano erupted. "As a compromise, you can keep your personality. So long as it goes along with your position."

Drake folded his arms across his chest, stretching the thin shirt against formidable muscles. He studied her slyly, and she suppressed a shiver. Was he baking a plan of his own? "No problem," he replied smoothly.

Her confidence wavered at his I’m-back-in-control-and-there’s-nothing-you-can-do-about-it expression. There was no backing away now. "Now that that is settled, I’ll start by telling you about myself."

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