The Billionaire's Homecoming Page 3

  It’d been hours since he last ate, and he had absolutely nothing in his kitchen. If his neighbor was offering him breakfast, he wouldn’t turn it down.

  “Jessie makes the best pancakes,” Grace said. “You’ll love ’em.”

  “If they’re the best, I can’t say no. Thank you.”

  ***

  Relax, you practically know him already. Jen repeated the sentence over again in her head. She’d been more or less repeating the same words in some form or another since she agreed to tonight’s meeting. Despite the numerous times and many variations, they were not helping.

  The cell phone in her shoulder bag dinged as she pushed open the door to Ambrosia Pastry Shop and Café on Benefit Street. Before checking it, she scouted out the popular café. In the morning and afternoon, the place was normally packed with customers of all ages. With the workday over for many, she had her selection of open tables and booths.

  Today she wanted a seat with a good view of the door. Since it would only be the two of them, she walked past the tables designed for groups and settled on a small booth near the windows. From there she could see the front entrance and also part of the sidewalk leading up to the café.

  Sliding behind the table, she pulled out her cell phone.

  The short text from Kristen came as no big surprise. Relax and have fun tonight. Let me know how it goes.

  Jen responded with an ok and pulled up her e-mail. As usual she was early. She couldn’t help it. While some people were perpetually late for meetings and get-togethers, she had the opposite problem, especially when she was doing something out of her regular routine. Meeting the man she’d been communicating with for almost two years certainly fit into the way-out-of-her-daily-routine category. She just hoped Brett was on time. Her deodorant might not hold up if he showed up ten or twenty minutes late. As it was, she wasn’t confident it would last the fifteen minutes until he was supposed to arrive, and she’d even put more on before leaving the office.

  The majority of e-mails clogging her inbox were either spam messages or ads from her favorite stores. She deleted them all without opening any first. She did open the one claiming a Nigerian prince wanted to give her five million dollars, but only because she found those e-mails and the ones she got claiming she’d won some foreign lottery amusing. She never responded to them, of course, but every once in a while she wanted to send them a message back, thanking them and asking what she had to do to claim the money just so she could see how long she could keep the game going.

  With the temporary distraction gone, she checked her watch. Phooey, she’d managed to waste less than five minutes. Now what? She looked over her shoulder at the cases filled with various baked goods. Unfortunately, when she got nervous, rather than lose her appetite, she ate. Jen knew she wouldn’t be disappointed with anything she might order here because she often stopped in and picked up a spinach pie or a calzone for lunch. Ambrosia’s biscotti and tiramisu were divine as well. However, today the last thing she needed was to eat and then get a piece of food stuck between her teeth. Talk about making a terrible first impression. Tea or coffee should be fairly safe though, assuming she didn’t spill it all over her white blouse. Another embarrassment she could do without tonight.

  Jen left her sweater on the table. She had the perfect location in the café and didn’t want to lose it while she ordered. Before joining the short line at the counter, she grabbed the newest copy of The Star Report. This week a picture of actor Anderson Brady took up the cover. She didn’t read the popular magazine often, but it had great crossword puzzles. She could work on this week’s while she waited, killing whatever time she had left.

  “What can I get for you today?” Chloe, according to her name tag, asked. Until recently the woman had been a permanent fixture at the café. Jen hadn’t seen the employee in a few months, and she’d assumed the woman had left.

  Setting down the magazine, she considered her drink options before deciding to keep it simple tonight. “Large dark roast with milk and two sugars.” While Chloe prepared her order, she spoke again. “I haven’t seen you here all summer.” There was no one in line behind her, so a brief conversation wouldn’t hold up anything.

  Chloe set down the coffee. “I finished my degree back in January and took a position at Gatekeeper Gaming. I only fill in when they need someone, like tonight.”

  She wasn’t into gaming, but she’d heard of the video game company located downtown. “Well, it’s nice to see you. Have a good night.” Jen paid for her magazine and coffee and returned to her booth.

  Okay, let’s see how much time I can kill with this. She flipped the magazine over and opened to the crossword puzzle. She filled in ten answers before glancing at the door when the hands on her watch read six o’clock. On cue the door opened, but the college-age man with the shaggy hair and well-worn T-shirt wasn’t the man she wanted.

  Glancing down again, she read the clue for seven down, Location of the 2012 summer Olympics. She never watched the games, however, the answer contained only six letters and the third one was an N. Jen remembered sometime in the past decade the Olympics had been held in London. London contained six letters.

  Jen filled in the boxes and jumped to the next clue, Second United States President. “Too easy,” she mumbled and moved her pen toward the puzzle boxes again. The voice in her head suddenly telling her to look up stopped her from doing anything else. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she took a deep breath, counted to ten, and looked up toward the entrance.

  Wow. The thought zipped through her head the moment she saw the dark-haired man standing there. This was a first-class bad idea quickly followed.

  The man had looked handsome in both the picture he’d sent her and the one she’d found on the internet. The individual standing at the entrance now went beyond handsome—not to mention way out of her league. In fact, she wouldn’t be shocked if after seeing her, Brett pretended he hadn’t and then walked right back out without as much as a hello first.

  Across the café, Brett opened the door for a woman leaving. Jen held her breath and waited for him to follow the customer outside and back down the sidewalk. Instead he let the door close behind him and headed straight for her booth, catching the attention of several women and one man along the way.

  Slipping her hands under the table, she wiped her damp palms on her skirt and put what she hoped resembled a smile on her face.

  “Jen,” Brett said. There wasn’t a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. There was an accident on North Main Street. I ended up parking in a garage over there and walking here.”

  “I arrived a few minutes ago.” He didn’t need to know she’d been there for a solid fifteen minutes, half of which she spent contemplating whether she should leave or not. “Please have a seat. Or would you like a coffee? I can go order you one. Or I can order you something to eat. The food here is great if you’re hungry.” Great, keep rambling like an idiot.

  He cocked an eyebrow. She always wondered how people did that. She couldn’t even wink, never mind control her eyebrows.

  “I haven’t even sat down and you’re trying to get away from me,” Brett said.

  Shoot. One of these days she’d learn to shut up. “I only meant…,” she began, hoping to clarify her previous statement. The smile tugging at his lips stopped her. “You’re just giving me a hard time, aren’t you?”

  “Affirmative. But if you don’t mind, I will grab a coffee and come right back. Can I get you anything?”

  Jen held up her coffee. “All set for now, I ordered one when I arrived.”

  She resisted the urge to turn and watch him walk to the counter. The women a few tables over were not as disciplined. She didn’t blame them. Put in their position, she might have done the same thing. When it came to looks, there was nothing average about Brett Sherbrooke, a fact that came as no surprise to her. Over the years, she’d seen pictures of his various relatives in magazines and on the internet.
Every single one of them put the rest of the population to shame. Even Brett’s uncle, President Warren Sherbrooke, was an extremely handsome man. And as much as she enjoyed looking at handsome men, a part of her wished the man ordering a coffee was a little less drop-dead gorgeous. Someone who looked like him didn’t get involved with plain Janes like her.

  “Couldn’t resist,” Brett said. He placed a tray with a cannoli and steaming coffee on the table. “They make the best cannoli anywhere.”

  Under the table, she uncrossed and then crossed her legs again. “If you say so. I can’t stand them no matter who makes them.”

  “Don’t let my cousin hear you say that. He’ll ban you from his house. They’re Trent’s favorite. His mother-in-law keeps him well supplied with them.”

  She never planned on meeting Trent Sherbrooke or any of Brett’s other relatives, so she wasn’t worried about being banned from anywhere. Actually, she wasn’t even sure she’d see Brett again. After tonight they might very well just go back to exchanging friendly e-mails and text messages. Perhaps they wouldn’t even do that anymore.

  “It’s the filling. I hate ricotta cheese,” she said.

  Both his eyebrows went up this time. “And you’re just telling me this now? I don’t know if we can be friends.”

  This time she knew he was only giving her a hard time. “Consider this your warning. If you ever come to my house for dinner, don’t expect lasagna, ravioli, or baked stuffed shells. They don’t cross my kitchen table.”

  Brett raised his mug toward his mouth. While he sipped his coffee, she took the opportunity to study his bare forearms. They were well tanned, like his face, and muscular. Her eyes traveled higher. His shirtsleeves covered his upper arms but didn’t hide his chiseled biceps.

  “How do you feel about pizza?” he asked, lowering his mug again.

  She suspected her waistline answered his question for her. “Perhaps my all-time favorite food. I think I could eat it every day.”

  He exhaled loudly. “For a moment I thought I’d have to leave. But as long as you like pizza, I can associate with you.”

  The humor Brett was displaying now was the same she picked up on in his many letters and messages. For the first time since stepping out of the shower this morning, she relaxed. True, this was their first face-to-face meeting, but she knew this man. Considered him a good friend.

  Brett watched the smile form on Jen’s face. Mission successful.

  He’d spotted her the moment he walked in Ambrosia. Even with her head down making it difficult to see her face, he’d recognized the strawberry-blonde hair from her picture. When she did look up, her expression told him everything he needed to know. For some unknown reason, she was nervous. Immediately, getting her to relax became his main objective. Judging by the smile on her face, he’d succeeded.

  “Ah, but what if we don’t like the same kind?” she asked. “Then what?”

  “Not possible. I’ve never tried a pizza I didn’t like.” Brett reached for his cannoli. He’d had a late lunch with his parents, but in his opinion there was always room for dessert. Especially anything this café made. He’d lived in a lot of different places, but he’d never found a bakery that came close to this one.

  Jen put an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her knuckles. “Even one with clams and peppers on it?”

  “Never tried it, but I’m game. Name the day and time and we’ll get one together.”

  When they first started exchanging letters, he expected it would last a couple months and then stop. However, the letters and e-mails continued. When he came back from his last deployment several months ago, they’d added sending text messages to their modes of communication. When he’d finalized his plans to move back to New England, she’d been one of the few people he told.

  “I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.” She reached for her coffee and took a sip. “So, are you all moved into your new house?”

  “More or less. My furniture arrived yesterday. I’ve got a few boxes to unpack. It won’t take me long.” He’d never been one for unnecessary items, a useful characteristic considering the number of times he’d moved.

  “I hate packing and unpacking. I might stay where I am until I die,” Jen said.

  Her comment suggested she’d moved around a fair amount herself. She’d never said as much, but he’d assumed she always lived in Rhode Island.

  “When do you start at Homeland Security?” she asked.

  When he’d accepted the position to work as a contractor in Homeland Security’s cyber division, she’d been the first person he told. Before today, the only other person besides her to know had been Dad. He’d finally shared the news with Mom this afternoon. “Monday.”

  “Great timing. The rest of the week is supposed to be beautiful. Perfect beach weather.” She smiled, the expression changing her face from just pretty to beautiful. “If you get bored and want to fill in for me at work, I’ll trade with you. My tan needs some work.” She held out her arm, which compared to his skin remained pale.

  “If you want to keep the promotion you got a few months ago, you don’t want me doing your work.” He eyed the guy approaching the counter. His head was shaved, and he had a large skull tattooed on his right bicep. The tattoo matched the one on the back of his leather vest. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll be too busy to enjoy the nice weather too,” Brett said, his eyes never leaving the guy.

  Perhaps picking up on his distraction, Jen glanced over her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  “The guy at the counter doesn’t fit in here.” Everyone else in the bakery was either dressed as if they’d just left work or looked to be college students. The guy at the counter looked like he belonged at a biker bar, not a downtown café.

  “Oh, he comes in here a lot.” Jen looked back at him. “I think he works in the city because I’ve seen him at lunchtime wearing a suit.”

  He couldn’t imagine the man in a suit.

  “If you don’t plan on enjoying your last few days of freedom, what will you be doing?” Jennifer asked, returning to their conversation before he got distracted by the man ordering.

  “Getting my campaign up and going.”

  “You need to start now? The election is more than a year away.”

  “Slight change in plans. Senator Brown’s death means the state will be holding a special election in December.”

  “I wondered what would happen when I read he’d died. How does a special election work anyway?”

  Brett spent the next half hour explaining the process. From there they proceeded to talk about everything from her work to what upcoming movies they were both looking forward to. Talking to her was similar to talking to any of his other friends.

  “Yikes, is it really after eight?” Jennifer asked after checking her watch. Like him, she’d just finished her third cup of coffee, although she opted for decaf while he’d stuck with the real stuff.

  It seemed like he’d just arrived, but his watch confirmed they’d been talking for almost two hours. “Affirmative.”

  She slipped her bag’s straps onto her shoulder. “I hate to leave, but my dog is going to be starving.” She slid out from behind the table. It was the first time since he walked in that she’d stood up. “He probably has his legs crossed too. He hasn’t been outside since this morning.”

  Brett didn’t hesitate to stand too. He’d been raised to be a gentleman. However, he was still a man, and he couldn’t help but give her a quick once-over. And he liked what he saw. Unlike the actresses so popular in Hollywood, she had a perfect hourglass figure. Even better, she was tall. He stood six two and she was only a few inches shorter than him without any heels.

  “We don’t want that. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “You’re parked near North Main. My garage is in the opposite direction. Don’t worry about it,” Jen said.

  Even if good manners hadn’t been drilled into him all his life, he would’ve offered to walk with her. He�
�d enjoyed their time together tonight and wasn’t eager for it to come to an end. “It’s a nice night, and I need the exercise. Humor me.”

  Jen shrugged and the strap of her bag slipped from her shoulder. “They’re your feet.”

  He pushed the strap back into place. Her sleeveless blouse left her entire arm bare, and he skimmed his fingers across her skin, amazed at how soft it felt. With the strap no longer a good reason to be touching her, he moved his hand to her lower back. “After you.”

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a good reason to maintain the contact as they walked down Benefit Street and toward a parking garage near her office building.

  “This is me.” She stopped alongside a dark green Mustang and used the key fob to unlock the door. He remembered Jen’s excitement when she told him she’d finally bought her dream car.

  Jen opened the door. “I’m glad we met tonight.”

  “Me too.”

  “Good luck on Monday. Let me know how it goes.” She tossed her bag in the car but made no movement to get in despite her earlier comment about her dog being starving. Instead her eyes dropped to his lips and then quickly met his again. “And if you’re in Providence again let me know. We can meet for coffee or lunch.”

  He interpreted her statement to mean they were on the same page. “Are you free Saturday?”

  “Uh, yeah. Free all weekend. Why?”

  “Let’s go to the beach and work on your tan.” In more than one of her e-mails she’d talked about how much she enjoyed the beach. If the weather was as nice as predicted, they could spend a good portion of the day there.

  Actual concern, an odd reaction to his invitation, crossed her face. “The beach,” she said rather than answer him.

  “We can do something else, but you did mention your tan earlier. And I haven’t been to the beach in a while.” He didn’t date often. When he did ask out a woman, he didn’t get turned down. Actually, never in his life had a woman turned him down.

  “It is supposed to be a nice day. Okay, sure. A Saturday at the beach sounds nice,” she said, sounding uncertain.