Catching The Corporate Playboy. Michele Dunaway

no help. Think of that poor girl!”

      “Child, you’ve got to learn not to worry about those things that don’t affect you. Now go serve that hunk of man his soda. He’s thirsty, and you’re wearing it.”

      Darci looked down in dismay. Cola-brown had destroyed the last hope of her semi-white apron. “Great.” Because of Cameron O’Brien and her grandfather’s sexism, she’d now need to assault her nose with the smell of bleach. She hoped that at least would get her uniform clean.

      With an angry jolt she placed the offending glass of soda on a tray and headed back to serve the hotshot Cameron O’Brien. He’d be lucky if she didn’t dump it on his head.

      CAMERON WATCHED HER walk toward him. She’d even had trouble pouring his soda. And yes, Miss Waitress-from-Hell, they did call it soda in New York City.

      Whatever. It was either Pepsi or Coke. He’d never been one to tell the difference or care. And St. Louis, in his opinion, was still a cow town. Even more so now that he’d met firsthand a product who’d probably grown up drinking the water.

      “No, I think she’s perfect,” Lee said. “I saw her name tag. It’s Darci.”

      “Darci,” Cameron repeated, damning his fate. “Sounds flighty to me.”

      “Yeah, well, you have to admit she’s not a dog.”

      “No, that she isn’t.” He could at least admit that without losing ground to his friend. Besides her legs, Darci’s backside held promise. Her face was a mite bit plain, but makeup would help that.

      And Cameron could tell that her body was in shape. That was a big plus. A good salon would do wonders with her hair and her face. Hell, they did makeovers on those talk shows all the time.

      “One soda.” Darci made a point of setting the drink down in front of him. Blue eyes with a rim of dark blue glared at him. “Finished?”

      Cameron glanced at his plate. After a few bites he’d stopped eating the fiery concoction. “You can take it. Lee?”

      “I’m done. So, Darci, are you from St. Louis?”

      “I am,” she replied in a tone that said she didn’t favor any further questions.

      She shot Cameron a nasty look as she placed the plates on the tray. She didn’t even attempt to hide her annoyance. “You didn’t like it?”

      “I’m not hungry.” He offered her a smile, but she didn’t even appear to see it.

      She tossed her head. “Your loss.”

      No, the tip would be her loss, Cameron thought, trying to gain some satisfaction from this irritating situation. Then he checked his negative thoughts. He had to make this abrasive woman the cream of society, and worse, make his father and his sister think she was the cat’s meow. And all without telling her. That, according to Lee after they’d discussed the bet further, would have been too easy.

      “So, you live here, Darci?” Cameron began with his best charm, but she’d already moved off, the plates in her hands.

      He turned back to see Lee laughing. His friend gestured, and made a sound like an airplane crashing and burning. For a moment Cameron felt every bit of his thirty-four years.

      “You know, Cameron, this is going to be great. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. Come on, let’s pay our bill. You can come back tomorrow once you figure out what you’re going to do. I sure hope you’ve got some ideas. You’re going to need them.”

      Cameron’s vexation mounted as Lee had the audacity to whistle all the way to the cashier. Cameron snagged the bill from Lee’s outstretched fingers. “My treat.”

      “Everything fine?” The older woman in front of him smiled. Her bright-red hair clashed with the pink cap on her head.

      Cameron read her name tag. “Everything was fine, Val.”

      He felt her green eyes size him up. “That’s good. You’re Mr. O’Brien, right?”

      After having his picture splashed all over the local St. Louis papers, her question didn’t faze him. “Yes, I bought the Monitor.”

      “I like that paper,” Val said as she handed him his change. “Now don’t forget to give Darci a good tip. It’s only her third day.”

      “I’ll be sure to do that.” He walked back over to the table. Only her third day. That figured. He wondered how old she was. Early twenty-something, he’d wager. She looked a lot younger than his sister did, and Kit turned thirty in a few months.

      He dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table. That ought to soften her up. He’d prefer to give Darci his two cents worth instead, but that would have to wait. No, he had lots of other tips for her, and she’d get those life lessons soon enough. And then he’d get the satisfaction of besting Lee once again.

      It had better be worth it.

      As he turned from the table he caught her staring at him. She boldly held his gaze for a moment before turning around.

      Her haughty action surprised him. Tip number one, Cameron thought as he strode out the door. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

      DARCI SLAMMED the dishes down on the counter. The nerve! The gall! Didn’t they know she had ears and that she had heard every word of their insulting conversation? Were they that stupid?

      She drew a breath and counted to ten before exhaling again. Of course they were. They were men. If men were smart she wouldn’t be propelling pellers in front of drunks and second-shift employees. No, she’d be sitting in a corporate office at Jacobsen Enterprises doing a job that required her MBA and her brain.

      Of all the nerve. Of all the gall. Just who did Cameron O’Brien think he was? He’d made a bet with his friend, and it involved her! He didn’t even know her! Didn’t he know people had feelings?

      And the look on his face when he walked out. Well, she didn’t care if he thought he was God. What gave him the right to think that she, Darlene Cecelia Sanders, was a lowlife because she worked in a diner? What gave him the right to judge her on her appearance and think that he could turn her into a member of society? Why would she want to meet his father and sister anyway? She’d been to New York once, and she didn’t like it.

      “Darci, I cleared your table. Those hot guys gave you a fifty-dollar tip.” Wanda held the money out to Darci.

      Cameron O’Brien had left her fifty dollars. Anger filled Darci. As if she could be bought. She had a million-dollar trust fund. He thought her so pathetic he’d left her fifty dollars.

      Well, she didn’t need his money. But Wanda did. The single mom struggled to make ends meet by working two jobs. “You take it, Wanda.”

      Wanda’s mouth fell open. “It’s a fifty-dollar tip, Darci.”

      Darci retrenched for a moment. No one working in the diner, with the exception of Val, knew she was Joe Jacobsen’s granddaughter. While they might suspect she was a disowned heiress because of her Porsche, no one knew the truth.

      Darci attempted to convince Wanda to take the money. “Seriously, Wanda. The guy was a jerk and treated me like a tramp. It’s a matter of principle. Besides, I won some money in the lottery.”

      The last part was a stretch, but if being born counted as a lottery then Darci figured she’d won by being a member of the rich Jacobsen family. She just hoped Wanda didn’t ask, “Then whatcha doin here?”

      But Wanda still appeared stunned as she shoved the cash into her pocket. “Gee, thanks, Darci. I need to renew my license plates and this will really help.”

      “No problem,” Darci said. She glanced at the clock. Only one more hour before quitting time. Sighing, she reached for the plates being shoved out from the kitchen.

      After serving the order she returned behind the