Page 2 of Royal Bosshole

“Who are all these people?” I held out a hand motioning to the tables.

“Isn’t it great?” she said in her usually bubbly fashion. “Don’t know, but I guess today is our lucky day! I’ve already gotten some good tips.”

“Wow, that’s great,” I said.

I let her get back to work as I walked through the shop to head to the back. I was still incredulous. We had a few regulars who came in, and of course we had people pop in for our amazing pumpkin-spice lattes, but they usually took it away. People were sitting with food and cups of coffee and tea, and they had books out or laptops. It was confusing.

In my younger days, I might not have been so bitter and suspicious of good fortune, but life had taught me that good fortune didn’t just happen. Something had to spur it on, and this just wasn’t adding up.

Suddenly, I remembered I hadn’t told Jen about a supplier I was meeting later, so I spun around to go find her when I bumped into something, or rather, someone. Since fate was against me, the coffee poured all over the front of this person’s very expensive-looking suit, and I gasped as I watched it all happen in slow motion.

“Sorry!” I cried, once I steadied myself and could hold the coffee cup once more upright. “I’m so, so sorry, I…”

“Seriously! Do you not even look?” a low voice said that had me looking up quickly.

He was brushing his jacket off from where I’d drenched it with coffee, but I was momentarily distracted from his dickishness. I had a thing about voices. Being a singer, voices were very important to me, and I felt they were very much a part of a person’s sex appeal. This was one of those voices that just oozed sex and lit a spark inside me. When I looked up, my mouth fell open a little bit as I got caught in the most beautiful pair of eyes I’d ever seen.

Green. No, emerald.

I couldn’t decide. I was struck speechless by them. They were strong and stark and would make anyone look twice. I swallowed, noting just how handsome the man who owned them was. He looked expensive, to match his suit. He had dark hair, long and slicked back on the top but buzzed on the sides. His dark beard was cut close to his jaw, so I could see the strong line of it. My one hand was lightly touching his arm, and I pulled it away quickly, but I’d already registered a massive bicep underneath my fingers.

“I said sorry,” I said again, not unkindly, but he didn’t seem impressed.

His handsome features looked annoyed, and I cleared my throat to recover myself.

Hot guy does not mean good guy. That will be my mantra this year.

“Well, sorry doesn’t clean a suit!” he barked back. “This was expensive! More than this place makes in a year, no doubt.” He looked around, and I put my hand on my hip, tired of his shit now.

I noticed that he had a slight accent, something vaguely European. It was very faint, but it was there. I tried not to look too turned on. It was in every American teenage chick flick. American girls just loved a foreign accent.

“Look. I said I was sorry. Don’t you live in a world where accidents happen?” I asked. “Or are you perfect?”

He hmphed. “Pretty close.” The way he looked at me when he said that made a little shiver run through me.

Hot guy does not mean good guy. Keep repeating it. Hot guy with accent does not mean good guy.

He sighed, staring at me for another second, before rubbing a hand over his beard. I could tell he was trying to get a handle on his temper, and I saw him rummage in his coat pocket before pulling out a business card and trying to hand it to me.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal. Taking it to the cleaners will be easy. I can do that,” I said with my hands up, knowing that I actually didn’t have the money for that.

“No, no,” he said, waving a hand in the air, his expression smoothed a bit. “It’s nothing like that. Look, are you Lily?”

Huh…What? How did this guy know my name? Hesitantly, I nodded and he extended his card to me again.

“I’m James Perry, VP of Coffee on the Go Corps, and I’ve come in today to offer you a job.”

* * *

JAMES

Okay, so that wasn’t exactly the kind of smooth entrance I’d hoped to make that day, and I realized I’d put my foot in it hugely when I saw who it was I’d been yelling at.

Lily Jones. Owner of Charlotte’s Coffeeshop. The exact person I was intending to see and speak to. The woman who was getting in the way of us expanding our business, and the woman whose secret pumpkin-spice latte recipe was stopping us from getting ahead.

And apparently, a very beautiful woman.

I’d seen a picture before, but she was even more beautiful in real life. Her hair was strawberry blond, and she was tall and thin, statuesque, really. She looked as though she could have used a few more meals in a day, though.

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