Redeeming The Billionaire (The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 5) (10 page)

“You’re the expert here. Start wherever you want and I’ll follow.”

With no further encouragement, she headed for the rear of the home. Inside the kitchen, she switched on the overhead lights, then began to snap pictures from various spots in the large room. In an effort to stay out of her way, he remained in a doorway, his shoulders against the frame.

“Do you want a kitchen designed for a staff or one where you would sit and eat meals you prepared yourself?” She lowered her camera and looked in his direction.

“Maybe something that could lend itself to both. I don’t cook much myself, but that could change. What about you? Do you enjoy cooking?” If everything worked out as planned, any changes he made here would affect her as well.

Addie moved to the opposite end of the room and snapped another picture. “I do, but I don’t do it much. Sometimes it is hard to scale down certain recipes for just one person. When I lived at home though, I used to help my mom in the kitchen all the time.” She looked around the kitchen one more time. “I think I have enough pictures from in here. I’d like to get the bathrooms next.”

Trent tucked away the extra tidbit of information and took her hand. “Let’s head upstairs then.”

In no time Addie snapped pictures of the rooms they’d agreed needed the most work and he led her back outside to his car and headed for her home.

Addie concluded her conversation with the flooring company and hung up the phone. With the start date settled on, she turned back to her computer and typed up a short email with all the final details. She hit send just as a knock sounded on her office door. Seconds later Tara entered, closed the door behind her, and then rushed to her desk her eyes wide.

“Oh my God, Addison. Trent Sherbrooke is here to see you.” Tara sounded as if she’d just run a race.

“Now?” They didn’t have any meetings scheduled. She’d promised to set something up with his secretary once she finished some preliminary plans for him. At the moment her designs weren’t even half done.

“Yes! And God he’s even more gorgeous in person than in pictures. Do you know why he’s here?”

With all the extra work as of late, she’d never told Tara about the projects he’d hired her for. “I’m working on his office here in Providence and his home in Newport.” That answered Tara’s question but not her own. What brought him to her office today? “You can send him in, Tara.”

As Tara disappeared to deliver her message, Addie glanced around her own office. While well organized and functional it looked shabby compared to Trent’s. She’d purchased much of the furniture from a local office supply store. The pictures on the walls were a combination of her own photos and paintings she’d completed over the years.

He’s not here to assess my office
. She turned back to her computer and pulled up what she’d put together so far. His unexpected visit must have something to do with one of his projects.

“I hope you don’t mind that I just stopped in.” Trent’s voice cascaded over her and kicked her pulse up a notch or two.

“No, not at all. Is there a problem with the work on your office?” Unless something had gone wrong the painter should have showed up at his office that morning.

With relaxed confidence, Trent dropped into the chair across from her desk resting his ankle on his knee. “No problems. I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop in.”

“You were at Ambrosia again, weren’t you?” She eyed him with a bit of suspicion. The bakery was just down the street and she recalled his comments from the afternoon they’d first had coffee together.

Trent shook his head. “I had a meeting with my father. But now that you mention it, I could use a cannoli and an espresso. What do you say? Care to join me?”

Addie didn’t hesitate to answer. “Love to. I haven’t left my desk since I came in this morning.”

“Let’s go then,” Trent said, as he stood.

After a short stop by Tara’s desk to let her know she was leaving, Addie and Trent walked down the flight of stairs to the first floor of the historical building and outside. Much like the week before, temperatures remained in the high nineties. Even with the oppressive weather, Addie turned her face toward the sky as the sunlight beat down on her. After an entire day closed up inside, the natural sunlight revived her.

For a few minutes they walked in silence, but as they approached the courthouse, she looked over at him. “Your father’s a Supreme Court Judge?” She remembered reading that Mark Sherbrooke was a judge and since the Supreme Court house wasn’t far from her office it seemed like a safe guess.

“He’s the Chief Justice here in Rhode Island. He has been for a while now.” A messenger on a bicycle came towards them and Trent moved closer to her, giving the rider more room to pass. When he did, his shirtsleeve brushed against her arm. Unlike their outing in Newport, he again looked like the well-polished business executive in a pair of dark blue dress pants, a crisp white dress shirt and a striped tie. Even in her light skirt and short-sleeved blouse the sweat trickled down her back, so he must’ve been hot. Yet, despite that fact, he appeared comfortable and didn’t complain.

“Your father is a Chief Justice and your uncle is the President—there must be some interesting political discussions at your family get-togethers.” Addie reached for the door into the bakery, but Trent beat her to it and pulled it open for her.

Following her inside, he placed a hand on her lower back and guided her toward an empty table. “It’s not too bad. My father and uncle share similar views on most topics.”

As if he’d done it a thousand times before for her, he pulled a chair out for her. “Have a seat. I’ll order for us. What would you like?”

She scanned the specials list posted on top of the display case. Each day her uncle featured a special pastry and sandwich. Judging by the case, they’d already sold out of the Angel Wings listed as today’s special. “I’ll have a biscotti and a coffee.” She pulled a five-dollar bill from her wallet and held it out to him.

Trent made no move to accept the money she held out. “I got this. You can get it next time.”

Before she could respond, he walked away. Get it next time? Had his statement been one to simply placate her or had he been referring to when they meet to review her designs for the house? Her thoughts leaned toward the placating route. When they met again to review her design ideas their meeting would be held at one of their offices, not in the middle of the busy downtown bakery. Whatever his true intentions, she planned on returning the favor even if that meant bringing something to their next meeting. After all, she should be purchasing something for her client, not the other way around.

With the lunch rush over, only a handful of customers remained in the bakery. While she waited for Trent to return, she scanned the people seated, trying to determine their backstory. It was either that or stare at Trent like a teenager with her first crush while he stood at the counter and placed their order.

Tucked in at a corner table three young men sat drinking coffee. Judging by their age, style of dress and the textbooks open in front of them, she assumed they were students at Brown University. Though not the only university in the area, something about them pointed her in that direction. Across from the students, a man in a pinstripe suit sat with a cell phone glued to his ear and a half-eaten sandwich next to his open briefcase. She tagged him as a lawyer. Perhaps he’d spent the earlier part of the day at the courthouse and stopped in the bakery on his way back to his office. Addie turned her eyes to the last occupied table where two teenage girls around seventeen or so sat texting away on their phones; how they managed to type a coherent message was beyond her. Rather than being focused on the screens in front of them, their eyes remained on Trent as their fingers flew across the letters on their screens.

“They’re brewing a new pot of coffee.” Trent placed their afternoon snack on the table. “They promised to let us know when it is ready.” Before she could move a muscle, he placed a biscotti in front of her.

“That’s not a surprise. They’re probably just recovering from today’s lunch rush. It can get a little wild in here sometimes, and it can be hard to keep up.”

Across from her, he lifted his own cup of espresso toward his mouth. “Sounds like you speak from experience.”

Maintain eye contact. Don’t look at his lips or think about how they’d feel against yours.
“I worked here and at the bakery on Federal Hill all through high school just like everyone else in the family. Even when I was in college, I worked at one of the bakeries in the summer. It was sort of expected.”

“I know how that can be.” He put his cup on the table, once again giving her an unobstructed view of his mouth.

The night before she’d dreamed of him. They’d been standing on the balcony that ran the length of his home in Newport and he’d been trailing kisses down her neck.

“Everyone, even my cousin Jake, who my Uncle Warren had to drag into the office, did an internship at Sherbrooke Enterprises. Both my father and uncle insisted we know the inner workings of the company.”

An image of the former playboy, Jake Sherbrooke, being dragged into an office formed and laughter bubbled up inside her. “Now that’s a picture I wish the media had printed.”

Trent chuckled. “It is too bad they didn’t get one. What about you? Did you mind working for the family business?”

“No not really. My brother Tom hated it. Only lasted one summer before my mom banned him from ever entering the kitchen again.”

“Banned him? Sounds a bit harsh. What did he do?”

Memories from the one summer her brother worked at the bakery surfaced. “More like what didn’t he do? When my parents refused to let him get a job somewhere else, he set out to make sure our mother didn’t want him at the bakery. At first it was just little things. Showing up late, taking extra long breaks. When that didn’t work he stepped up his efforts. The final straw was when he started a small fire in the kitchen. He still insists that it was an accident, but no one believes him.”

Across the table Trent cringed. “I can see how that would get him banned. Is he your only brother?”

Addie opened her mouth to answer, when Chloe called out to her from the front counter. “Your coffee is ready, Addie.” Addie didn’t even manage to push her chair back before Trent stood.

“I’ll get it for you.”

A girl could get used to this.
From the table she followed Trent’s movements as he crossed to the front counter and she almost sighed out loud. Watching the guy walk was just so… she didn’t even know how to describe it. Yet, she knew no one should look that good while simply crossing a room.

At the counter he said something to Chloe, who still stood there, and in return she smiled at him. Then with her coffee in hand, he started back toward their table. The minute he turned his back on her cousin, Chloe flashed her a thumps up sign, then used her hand to signal Addie to call her later.

With the same athletic grace he used when he walked, Trent retook his seat, his attention once again focused on her. “So is he your only brother?” He asked, picking up their conversation right where they left off.

Addie cocked her head to the side and wondered if he asked all his business associates such questions. “If only,” she answered after deciding it didn’t matter how he treated his other associates. “I have four, all older than me.” Even she heard the hint of exasperation that crept
into her voice. She adored her brothers, really she did, but having four older brothers was sometimes like having four additional fathers.

At her comment Trent laughed, a deep rich sound that soon had her smiling despite her best efforts to maintain a straight face.

“You sound like my sister. The two of you make it sound like having brothers is worse than death. I’ll have to introduce you to her, I think you’d get along well.”

Addie doubted that. She’d get along about as well with Allison Sherbrooke as she would with the Queen of England. In fact, she probably had as much in common with the Queen as she did Trent’s sister. “You try being not just the only girl in the family, but the youngest, too. Then get back to me.”

Trent raised his cup in a gesture of surrender, but amusement remained in his eyes. “Fair enough.”

With no idea where to take their conversation next, she looked down at her untouched snack and broke it in half. When nothing else came to mind she settled on talk of the projects he’d hired her for but had not yet asked about. “I’ve started on some preliminary designs for your house. I hope to have something rough for you by the end of next week. Depending on what you like or dislike, I can make changes.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with.” On the table Trent laced his fingers together, the movement causing his shirt sleeve to inch up just enough to uncover a large expensive-looking watch on his wrist, another stark reminder of just who sat across from her. “I read that the city has WaterFire scheduled for this Saturday night. I’ve never been. Have you?”

Addie shook her head. “Almost made it once last summer, but then it rained and I decided not to go.”

“If you not busy, would you care to join me? We could have dinner first.”

A multitude of questions, ones she should never voice, popped up in her head all clamoring for answers, answers she couldn’t even begin to speculate on. “That sounds like fun.”
Great choice of words.