The Sweetest Mistake
Page 16
“I’m twenty-nine. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” I asked with a smile.
“I know, I know,” he said. “But the point I’m making is that this guy, Colton Cooper’s his name, is only a little older than you. And this company of his is poised to grow even more over the next year or two. If we can land them as a client, it’d be quite the coup.”
“Thanks for bringing me along, by the way,” I said.
“No problem,” said Richie, his eyes fixed forward. “It was your portfolio that got their attention. If we manage to get the okay to start work with them, then I’m going to want you to take the helm.”
“Sounds good,” I said. My tone was calm and composed, but deep down my stomach quaked with anxiety. I’d worked on some pretty big projects during my time at Liminal, but CooperWare would be the most high-profile so far.
“Ah!” said Richie, coming to a stop. “Here we are.”
CooperWare headquarters was a stunning building. A three-story brownstone situated on a corner, it was a gorgeous, historic building of dark red brick with ornate concrete adornments above the doors and windows. It was imposing and majestic all at once.
“Hell of a place, huh?” asked Richie. “Sure as hell beats our offices in Bushwick, right?”
He was right about that.
A suited man hurried over to the driver’s side of the car. Richie rolled the window down.
“Park your car, sir?” he asked.
“How about that?” said Richie, glancing over to me. “Valet service!”
Richie and I got out, and the valet slid into the car and drove it off. I tightened the belt of my coat against the bracing wind that cut through the air.
“At least, I hope that was valet service,” said Richie as he watched the white luxury car disappear around the corner. “Ah, and look at that!” he said, pointing up and around us at the lights and tinsel over the windows. “Good to see that they’re in the Christmas spirit.”
He opened the front door for me and the two of us stepped inside.
The interior of the building was done up in the exact sort of old-fashioned style that one would expect from how the outside of the place looked. The floors were a glossy wood, the walls were rich brick, and a large, oak desk dominated the lobby, “CooperWare” written above it in black, bold lettering. Men and women dressed in sharp, business-casual dress entered and exited. The place seemed to be the precise opposite of the small shop that Richie ran.
The two of us approached the desk, a pretty blonde secretary turning her attention to us right away.
“Welcome to CooperWare,” she asked in a chipper voice. “How can I help you?”
“Morning!” said Richie, leaning his tall, well-built frame on the desk, his red tie draping over the surface. “I’m Richie Garland and this is Shayla Zielinski. We’re with Liminal Graphics, and we have an appointment to meet with someone from your company to discuss a potential project.”
She nodded, turning her attention to the sleek computer in front of her. As she did, I turned around and took in more of the gorgeous interior of the building.
“This place is beautiful,” I said.
“Isn’t it?” asked the receptionist, her eyes still on the computer. “When Mr. Cooper bought this building, he was adamant about keeping the original features intact. Most of the designers wanted to gut the entire building and deck it out all modern, but he wouldn’t budge.”
A small smile spread across my face as my eyes flicked from detail to detail.
“Okay,” said the receptionist, snapping me out of my dreamy state. “Please have a seat and someone will be right out to see you.”
She gestured to one of the rows of antique, wooden chairs lined up in the lobby. Richie thanked her, and we took our seats.
“You nervous?” he asked once we were seated. Then a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh, I shouldn’t ask that,” he said. “Asking someone if they’re nervous only makes them more nervous, right?”
“It can,” I said. “But I’m not nervous. More excited than anything.”
“Here’s the thing, though,” said Richie, leaning in. “I know it’s your work that they were the most impressed with, but let me do all the talking. I’m the owner of Liminal, and it’ll look bad if both of us are talking over one another, you know?”
Normally, I would’ve protested. But Richie wanting to be the big boss man in charge of everything was something I was used to by now.
“Sure,” I said. “You can take the lead.”
“I mean, if they ask you a question directly or anything like that, then sure, speak up.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile.
I noticed a slight sheen of sweat on Richie’s forehead, which he quickly wiped away with a handkerchief that he stuffed hurriedly back in the front pocket of his suit.
Then, before either of us could say anything else, a clear, confident voice spoke out.
“Good morning!”
My eyes flicked away from the interior detail that I’d been fixated on and toward a man who stood in front of us.
An impossibly gorgeous man, at that.
He was tall, that was the first thing I noticed. His hair was dark, thick and slicked back behind his ears. His eyes were a sparkling mint green that shone with intelligence and energy. His lips caught my eye next, red and full and perfectly shaped, the right side tugged up into a warm smile. His jaw was wide and strong, reminding me of a military sergeant or the captain of a football team.
And his suit was impeccable, a light grey outfit with a deep red tie made clearly for his body alone—a body I could tell at a glance was built and strong. I had to use all the restraint I had not to drool at the sight of him.
“Taking a look at the molding?” he asked.
“Um, yes,” I said, surprised he knew right away the particular detail of the interior that I was fixed on. “It’s beautiful.”
“Hand-carved from the eighteenth century,” he said, his hands on his hips as he cast a glance in the direction of the gorgeous molding that outlined the doorframes. “Just one of the reasons I love this place.”
Richie shot up to his feet and stuck out his hand. I rose too, though more slowly than he did.
“Richie Garland,” he said, swooping his curly, graying hair away from his forehead with his free hand. “And this is Shayla Zielinski, one of my designers.”
“Ah, yes,” the man said, shaking Richie’s hand before taking my own. “Shayla…you’re the one with the killer portfolio.”
A slight tinge of blush warmed my cheeks both at the feel of my hand in his and the compliment.
“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘killer,’” I said. “But I hear it’s what got CooperWare’s attention.”
“That it most certainly did,” he said, flashing me a charming smile as he let go of my hand.
“Her designs were all under my supervision,” added Richie. “Samples we put together for a company we didn’t end up working with.”
“Noted,” said the man, his eyes flicking to mine one more time in a way that sent a tingling thrill up my spine.
“So!” said Richie. “I assume you’re the representative that we’re going to be meeting with?”
The man chuckled warmly. “I suppose you could say that. But let me introduce myself—I’m Colton Cooper.”
My jaw dropped.
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His Baby Secret
Hot Pursuit
SEXT ME
Secret Daddy Surprise
My Protector
SAN BRAVADO BILLIONAIRES’ CLUB
Second Chance Twins
Nanny For Hire
The Baby Bargain
Accidental Triplets
Take My V-Card
Bought by the Boss
Four Secret Babies
BABIES FOR THE BILLIONAIRE
Triplets For The Billionaire
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