Dream Date with the Millionaire. Melissa McClone
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didn’t like being caught off guard, but it had happened more than once today. Flushing out the scammers who probably used hacked computers to do their dirty work with the SQL injection was near impossible, but catching Sanfrandani might actually be…fun.
What did she want?
Only one way to find out.
Coffee tomorrow morning. My treat.
Bryce smiled. He was looking forward to it.
* * *
Remember, Dani. Proposals made after one cup of coffee are rare. Have fun!
Marissa’s instant message delivered while Dani had slept brought a needed smile to her face. She’d been a bundle of nerves ever since Bigbrother accepted her invitation to coffee.
Stop thinking about that. Him.
Don’t think of the meeting as a date. Consider
it market research.
Grace’s instant message echoed what James had said. Good advice Dani intended to follow. She wasn’t going to let Bigbrother’s profile picture or information blind her to her purpose. Okay, so she’d really liked what he’d written about the importance of family. But she knew from experience most guys would say anything to get what they wanted. Bigbrother was probably misrepresenting himself at least a little.
She winced. And she was misrepresenting herself a lot.
Face it, getting to know Bigbrother wasn’t possible under these circumstances. Thinking about him as anything other than market research would be a mistake. Downright wrong. He was not a potential date. He couldn’t be.
And neither could she be one for him.
Dani liked what she’d seen about Bigbrother. He looked like a nice guy, the type who might be a little shy and easily hurt.
She would not be responsible for leading him on.
Time to scare him off.
She walked into her closet.
Fortunately, most guys never looked past the surface. All she had to do was keep the packaging relatively unattractive and her breasts covered, and he’d lose interest.
Her hand wavered over the fitted jeans and sharp jackets hanging on the rod and settled instead on an ex-boyfriend’s pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie from her college days. She braided her blond hair into a single plait and tied a bandana around her head. She didn’t put on any makeup, but stuck on a pair of sunglasses.
She squinted at the results in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the closet door. Perfect.
Perfectly awful. She grimaced.
Dani took the bus to an area locally referred to as SoMa, south of Market, filled with loft warehouses, galleries and restaurants. As she walked toward South Beach and the café, a place known for giving second chances—something she desperately wanted herself—her breath hung on the air. Mornings in San Francisco were usually cold and foggy, no matter what the time of year.
As she stepped inside the café, warm air blasted her. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the loftlike open space and made her mouth water. A good thing. She planned on spending every cent of James’s money this morning.
Hearing the din of the other customers, Dani glanced around. She’d stared at Bigbrother’s picture enough last night she should be able to recognize him, but none of the people sitting on the couches and chairs looked familiar. Maybe she’d beat him here. Or maybe her darkened sunglasses kept her from seeing clearly. She moved toward an empty table.
“Sanfrandani?” a male voice asked.
Dani turned. A man, sitting at a table back against the wall near the bookstore portion of the café, was staring at her. She took a closer look, resisting the urge to push her sunglasses up above her forehead.
Thick dark lashes framed clear, warm eyes. Brown, maybe black, hair carelessly styled, as if he’d run his fingers through it, not a comb, fell past his collar in the back. His hair hadn’t looked like this in his picture or maybe the cap had hid it. Either way, his hair changed his looks completely. But she wasn’t complaining. In fact, Dani wouldn’t mind running her fingers through his hair. “Big… brother?”
He nodded.
Heaven help her. The contrast between his dark hair and lighter complexion and eyes was, in a word, stunning. Talk about a picture not doing someone justice. His photo made him look cute, but didn’t show his true appearance at all.
Was he hiding something, like her?
Dani was willing to take that chance.
As she walked toward him, he stood. Wowsa. He was tall, over six feet. Fit, trim, perfect. Men who looked like him only existed in magazines or the movies or her dreams. Yet she was having coffee with him. Her pulse quickened.
Pull yourself together.
Dani extended her arm. His large warm hand engulfed hers, his shake solid. She cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you.”
He pulled a chair out for her. Good manners. “Thanks for suggesting this.”
She wanted to thank his parents for having him and James for forcing her to ask Bigbrother out. Intelligent, handsome, polite. A blind date couldn’t get much better than this. Or him.
Dani took the seat he offered. “You’re welcome.”
He sat across from her. Their gazes met.
Her heart bumped.
Oh, boy. She crossed her legs, tilted her head and gave him her best buy-me-a-drink smile.
He looked faintly startled.
Why…?
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.” She leaned forward just a little.
“It’s an old photo,” he admitted. “Good thing I had no trouble recognizing you from your picture.”
Dani frowned. “My…”
And then she realized. That picture. No wonder he looked taken aback.
Bigbrother was totally hot.
And she looked totally…not.
CHAPTER THREE
BRYCE watched Sanfrandani tug surreptitiously on the waistband of her baggy sweats and bit back a smile. Nice hips. But the clothes… She looked like a kid who’d dressed with her eyes closed or a coed slumming in her boyfriend’s clothes.
Obviously she didn’t care what kind of impression she made on him.
He could find her confidence attractive.
Or insulting.
“What will you have?” she asked, standing in line to order.
“Two shots Americano.”
She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head to read the menu. “Breakfast?”
“No, thanks.”
She turned her head. “Sure?”
He stared into her sparkling blue eyes and suddenly wasn’t sure about anything. Where had those beauties come from? “I’m not hungry.”
She stepped up to the counter to order. “A two shot Americano, a white mocha and one lemon-poppy seed waffle.”
Bryce pulled out his wallet as the barista, a young man with pierced ears and a tattoo on his forearm, pulled the shots.
Sanfrandani handed the bright-eyed girl behind the counter a twenty. “My treat, remember.”
Confident, he thought again. And it was attractive.
“You pay,” he said. “I’ll carry.”
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