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?”