Under the Millionaire's Mistletoe Read Online Free PDF Page A

and looked around the room, as if searching for a hint to the owner’s identity. When she found nothing, she said, “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to talk to me about painting a mural in here.”
    â€œNo,” a deep, familiar voice said from behind her. “Mrs. Soren made the call, but I’m the one who wants to hire you.”
    Anna went completely still. A setup. And she’d walked right into it. Turning around slowly, she looked up into Sam’s blue eyes and, keeping her voice cool, she said, “I’m sorry. There’s been a mistake.”
    He scowled at her. Small consolation, she knew, but she was pleased that she’d disrupted whatever plan he’d concocted.
    Shifting his gaze to the other woman in the room, he said, “That’s all, Jenny. Thanks.”
    â€œYes, sir,” she answered and nodded at Anna as she left.
    â€œYou had her lie for you. That’s just low.”
    â€œShe didn’t lie.”
    Anna tipped her head to one side and tapped the toeof her boot against the floor. “So you want to hire me? Please.”
    His eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “Are you always this crabby with a prospective customer?”
    â€œYou’re not a customer, prospective or otherwise,” she said firmly and clutched her portfolio closer to her chest.
    He walked into the room and Anna couldn’t help but notice how at home he looked in faded black jeans and the dark red T-shirt that clung to his broad chest. His black work boots hardly made a sound as he walked across the deep blue and green rug to stand in front of her.
    â€œBusiness that good, then?” he asked. “You can turn down customers?”
    â€œIn my shop, I can do what I like.”
    â€œTrue, but seems shortsighted to turn down a job just because you’re embarrassed about kissing me.”
    â€œWhat?” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Are you delusional?”
    He smirked. “You seem a little sensitive.”
    â€œI’m not sensitive. I’m insulted.”
    â€œDon’t know why. It was a great kiss.”
    True. Damn it.
    â€œLook,” Anna said, clinging to every stray fiber of her dignity, “we’re wasting each other’s time here and even if you can afford it, I can’t.”
    â€œYou agreed to give me an estimate on a wall mural,” he reminded her. “The least you can do is keep your word.”
    Anna glared at him and the dirty look she gave him had zero effect on the man. If anything, he looked supremely pleased with himself. Well, fine. She’d keep the appointment and then when she quoted him anoutrageous price, he’d tell her no and she’d leave. All she had to do was take control of this situation.
    â€œFine, then,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”
    He gave her a wide smile that tugged at something deep inside her. The man was a walking hormone party. Anna gave herself a stern, if silent, talking-to. There would be no more kissing. No more flirting. No anything with Sam Hale.
    â€œActually,” he said, spreading his arms wide to encompass the room, “I’d prefer to hear your opinion. What kind of murals do you usually suggest?”
    Anything would look fabulous in the opulent room, but Anna wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. She gave a quick look around and fixed her gaze on the wide, empty space above the fireplace.
    â€œA window and garden scene would look nice there.”
    â€œA window? ”
    â€œTrompe l’oeil,” she told him patiently.
    â€œOptical illusion?”
    â€œYou could call it that,” she said and in spite of what she was feeling, she found herself warming to her theme. She loved faux finishing. Loved the trompe l’oeil murals that mimicked reality so completely, she’d once seen a man try to pick up a marble that had been painted onto a tabletop.
    â€œA close translation of