Alison heard the deep, commanding, masculine voice behind her. She didn't recognize it but she could see that the angry customer was already taking things down a notch.
"I'm the manager." Sebastian repeated firmly.
"Oh," the man said, "is that right?"
"That's right, sir. My name is Daniel Johnson and I'm the supervisor here today. I'll be happy to help with your complaint."
Alison stepped aside. The guy must be new. She had never seen him before, but there had been no talk of a new manager and certainly nothing about a drop-dead gorgeous Greek god come-to-earth manager. All of a sudden, the morning didn't seem so bleak. Even under his Tête-á-Tête Coffee Shop uniform, his tall, muscular frame left no doubt as to his rippling masculinity. He was definitely all man, whoever he was, and sexiest of all was his manner. This was a guy who knew exactly who he was and had absolute self-confidence.
Sebastian didn't even know her name but as soon as he saw her face, it came to him in a flash: she was the one. He had to know her. He had to have her.
She would be his and his alone forever, but she had to take him for who he was; no billionaire bullshit. She would want him as Daniel Johnson, minimum wage wannabe barista or she wouldn't want him at all.
He read her nametag and a surge of apprehension went through him. Even though he towered above her, he couldn't shake the thought.
What if she doesn't like me?
Normally, he didn't care.
"This girl, Alison," the customer squinted at her name tag, "just can't seem to get my order straight."
"Well I'm very sorry about that, sir. Can I take your order for you? It's on the house of course."
"Huh. Well, I guess that would be okay." He huffed. "But what about her?" He said. "Are you going to do something about her?"
"Of course sir," the new manager said in his soft, sexy commanding tone, "I'll attend to Alison myself and make absolutely sure that the proper disciplinary procedures are adhered to. And you can have my number if you would like to follow up on that." He reached into his shirt pocket but the little man had calmed down by now and waved it away.
Stupid little asshole. He thought. You don't know how lucky you are.
He gave Alison a tiny wink and complicit smile to let her know that it was all hot air and she should forget about it.
Wow. She thought. Who the hell is this guy?
The line didn't get any shorter for an hour and the New Yorkers didn't get any friendlier, but Alison was as light as a feather in her work. She had forgotten she could even feel that way. It had been a long time since there had been anybody like that on their team. In fact, it was the first time. This guy wasn't just cute, he was a knock out hunk with moviestar looks and that super-confident understated charm to boot. She smiled back at him.