Outbid by the Boss Read Online Free Page B

placed their order and then leaned back in his chair, unabashedly studying Sam as she discreetly took in the restaurant's opulent surroundings.
    Had she grown up in England, her accent, her schooling and her connections, often an important part of their business, would have told him everything he needed to know about her. Perhaps he didn't know his staff as well as he thought. An oversight he was determined to rectify. Beginning now.
    "So," he said, "Miss Redfern."
    Her green eyes drifted back to his. "Mr. Porter."
    "Lest we sit here like a long-married couple who have lost the ability to converse, try telling me something about you I don't know."
    Her left brow rose in a perfect arch. "Like what?"
    "Like why you would bid way beyond your pay grade to buy one silver candlestick?"
    He'd meant to be flip but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Chas realized his earlier fury was still close to the surface. He considered apologizing, but Sam cut him off.
    "You, sir," she hissed across the table, "have a lot of...."
    "What?" Chas shot back. "Leverage?"
    "Actually, what I was going to say was...." she stopped abruptly.
    Their waiter was hovering a few feet away with their wine.
    Chas waved him forward. The young man presented the bottle to Chas, then deftly removed its cork and poured a small amount in Chas’ wine glass.
    Casually swirling the ruby red liquid about the bowl of his glass, Chas tried not to think about Sam glaring at him from the other side of the table. She knew he'd watched her take a shawl from her suitcase and wrap it around the candlestick. She knew he suspected it was now in that oversized bag of hers resting on the floor next to her chair. But what she didn't know was how much he was enjoying every second he spent in her company.
    Raising his glass, he breathed in the wine's burgundian bouquet. It was superb. He took an appreciative sip and with a nod to the waiter, their glasses were filled.
    "Is there anything we might drink to without getting into a fight?" he asked Sam as the young man withdrew.
    "How about my impeccable taste in silver," suggested Sam raising her glass in mock salute.
    She touched the glass to her lips and took a slow sip, letting it linger as she savoured its bouquet. "This is delicious."
    "I'm glad you like it..." Chas sat quietly with his wine and waited.
    And then Sam began to speak. “I saw a painting when I was a young girl…called Five O’Clock Tea. It was only a picture in a book…about women silversmiths,” she blushed slightly. “Two young Victorian women sitting on a chintz sofa. There’s a silver tea service arranged on the table in front of them. One wears a hat and gloves and sips from a delicate porcelain cup. She’s the visitor. They’re just friends having tea, yet it was so…captivating.”
    Enchanted, Chas watched the memories play across Sam’s face. She really was beautiful, and so much more real to him than she had ever been before.
    She must have sensed he was looking at her. “I guess I was hooked.”
    “On silver?” asked Chas.
    Sam laughed. “Tea parties. My grandmother was a good sport.”
    Suddenly, Chas found he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Their gazes caught across the table, the one waiting for the other. Then the jagged ring of a mobile phone stole the moment.
    Chas sighed. "Yours?'
    Flushing, Sam groped beneath the table. "Mine." She popped back up with the offending device in her hand.
    Her forehead scrunched as she scanned the display screen.
    It was a text. And judging by the sudden flash of anger in those gorgeous green eyes, the word was out at Burton-Porter.
     

    Sam turned off her phone and put it away.
    What on earth was she thinking?
    Nattering on like that to a boss who was, without doubt, one of the most self-assured men she had ever met. Not to mention rich and well-educated, handsome, stylish...and, up until today, perfectly boring. She raised her glass.
    He probably had his own sommelier at boarding school, she