Dream Date with the Millionaire

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.”

A beat passed. And another. “Fine with me.”

As she put her change into her wallet, Bryce gave her the once-over. Okay, all was not lost. He could see raw material there, hidden under the bulky sweats. With those pretty baby blues and full lips most women would pay big bucks to have, Sanfrandani wasn’t so bad.

She raised an eyebrow. “See something you like after all?”

Bryce broke into a reluctant grin. “I’ll stick to coffee.”

“Suit yourself.”

He picked up their drinks from the counter, followed her past a leather couch to their table against the wall.

Sitting across from him, she took a sip of her white mocha and licked foam off her upper lip. “Just what I needed.”

A strand of blond hair had fallen out of her braid and threatened to slip into her drink. Without thinking, he reached forward and tucked it behind her ear. Her hair was smooth, her cheek warm.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Bryce sat back, feeling foolish. “Your hair…it was about to fall into your whipped cream.”

“Oh.” She flushed. “The curse of long hair, I guess.”

“Is that why you wear the bandana?” he asked.

She touched the cloth, as if to remind herself she was still wearing it. The simple gesture reminded him of Caitlin, when she was little and wore a tiara every day.

“I thought you might be some kind of cowgirl or something.”

“Ha-ha. Actually…” she leaned her elbows on the table, cradling her drink in both hands “…I used to work in a stable.”

Bryce studied her oval nails with their pretty pink polish. She didn’t work in a stable now. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s not that exciting.” She smiled and took another sip from her mug. “My mother works on a farm in central California. I mucked stables there and at a couple of ranches to earn money. I used bandanas to keep my hair out of the way. They also work well as sweat rags and, if you wet them, neck coolers when it’s hot outside.”

His family had horses—Caitlin wanted to start riding competitively again. He knew what the work involved and was impressed. “That’s a hard way to earn money.”

“Yes, but it was worth it. Not only did I get stronger cleaning stalls, but I got to exercise the horses when their owners couldn’t.” The words almost tumbled from her mouth with excitement. Her face became animated, but she seemed to catch herself and calm down. She raised her cup. “So now you know where my attachment to bandanas comes from.”

“A worthy attachment, I’d say.” His respect for her grew. He recalled her picture. The shadows. Her red face. Something clicked for him. “The photograph in your profile. Was it taken while you worked at one of the stables?”

She nodded. “I still help out at the farm when I visit my mom. One of my sisters took the picture with her cell phone as a joke.”

Definitely a horse-lover. No one else would offer to help out with that job. But that didn’t explain her using the unflattering picture.

“Why did you use that photo on your profile?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I wanted to make sure men were more interested in who I was as a person rather than my appearance.”

“That makes sense.” So maybe she was on the up-and-up. Caitlin had done the same with her profile picture. “Have you found any guys who passed the test?”

“You’re here.”