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Yet before she could say anything further, Callum continued, “So if you didn’t come to accept my invitation and you didn’t come see me about your brother, why are you here?”

Help. She sucked in a deep breath. There was only one thing left to say—sure, it meant she’d have to eat crow, but she could do that.

“I wanted to thank you for giving me the chance to cater for you.” Her stomach heaved. “I’ve already had a call as a result. Look.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a few of the business cards she’d had printed up yesterday. “One of your dinner guests on Saturday asked for a card. I didn’t have any. So I’ve had some printed up. What do you think?” She couldn’t restrain the lilt of pride in her voice as she passed him a card.

He studied it. “Not bad. Do you have any more?”

“Why?”

“I might be able to hand them to prospective clients.” He shot her a quick glance. “In fact, can you cater a Christmas cocktail party?” Callum rattled off a sum per head. “In the boardroom here? This Friday?”

Embarrassment squirmed through her. “That wasn’t a hint. I didn’t mean for you to give me more—”

“The caterer we booked has fallen ill. Do you want the job? Or do I get Biddy to find someone else?”

Miranda considered Adrian’s predicament. Their tight finances. “Perhaps,” she said cautiously.

A rap on the door had Callum stepping away from her. “Yes or no?” He parodied her question from earlier, and Miranda flushed.

Biddy popped her head around the doorjamb. “The copies are done, and everyone’s finished their coffee—they’re waiting for you.”

He moved toward the door. “So what will it be?”

Ignoring the receptionist’s curious glance, Miranda blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Yes.”

Five

The boardroom was packed.

Everywhere Callum looked people held cocktail glasses, while they talked and laughed. Waitresses in long, red sequined dresses wearing Santa hats with fur trim offered around trays of snacks. And behind the hum of conversation he could hear the festive notes of “Ding Dong Merrily on High.”

He should’ve been pleased. Ecstatic, in fact. Yet all he could do was glare in increasing frustration at the woman who’d pulled it all off.

Miranda had chosen to wear fishnets.

Callum really hadn’t needed his brother, Fraser, to point that out to him. She wore black. A snug dress that, unlike the V-neck of last week’s dress, had a high collar suited to a nun and should’ve looked seriously sedate. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she busied herself around the buffet table piled with mince pies and pots of whipped cream, repositioning the posies of poinsettias tied with gold bows and lit up with red candles.

Did the fishnets, too, end at the tops of her thighs?

A bolt of raw lust stabbed him at the memory of stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh. Had she worn them deliberately to drive him out of his mind?

As for that damn frilly white apron that tied with the great white bow behind her back, begging him to yank it loose…

Ah, hell.

“Back off,” Callum growled as he caught Fraser smiling at Miranda for the second time in less than five minutes.

“I’m pulling rank,” Fraser murmured. “I’m older. Go away.”

Callum forced his attention from the woman who had him tied up in mental knots. “Forget it,” he told his brother grimly. “That doesn’t work anymore.”

“You’re warning me off!” Fraser’s grin widened as he searched Callum’s face. “I thought you were already attached.” Turning his head, Fraser scanned the room. “Although I haven’t seen the princess here tonight.”

“Petra doesn’t like it when you call her Princess,” he said pompously, and spoiled the effect by slicing his brother a dirty look.

“Does your lack of answer mean she was supposed to be here?”

“No.”

Callum shuddered at the memory of the disastrous call he’d made from New York. He should have ended it with Petra a week ago. It hadn’t been fair to keep Petra on a string, not while this hunger for Miranda ate at him like acid. Petra hadn’t said much, but he knew he’d hurt her. It’s not you, it’s me—he’d even used that old corny line. You deserve better. She did—he should’ve waited to break it off with her in person.

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