Planned to Perfection

by Roxanne Tully

  Scott knew she was right. Knowing your staff helps in a lot of good business decisions. Not knowing who does what exactly is where the downfall usually originates. “Very well,” he agreed. Perhaps the woman should speak up more often. “The employee that worked on the Hayes event,” he turned to Dean, “You said she was new and supposedly somewhat of a somebody in the industry?”

  “To those within the industry, yes. There aren’t many venues in Manhattan that haven’t heard of Elle Rybeck.”

  That surely was impressive. So was the night she’d thrown together; unquestionably flawlessly. “I’d like to meet her.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We haven’t exactly made it public knowledge that we need—”

  Scott held up a hand. “Relax, I just want to thank her and start on my end of our understanding—get to know the staff,” he winked at Starr.

  Starr stepped in front of her partner and held a hand to his chest. “I’ll take him.”

  Chapter 7

  Elle

  The best cafe within a two-block radius was Blue Reserves. It was a bright and modern establishment, with the exterior primarily made up of glass windows. The café was located on the corner of a busy intersection just across the street from her office building. It typically had a line out the door and around the corner; almost reaching the next nearby coffee shop. At this late hour however, it was a reasonable fifteen-minute wait. Elle had only been a consumer of the place on two other occasions, but the coffee was exceptional. The elite cafe mainly had business attired clientele and served pretty, high-end healthy choice pastries to complement their coffee. She had yet to hear anyone order plain coffee here. It was either a large cap, or red-eye, or cinnamon latte. Elle just wanted a large coffee to go.

  She overheard the barista telling a young woman that they didn’t serve decaf, and can offer her a decaf Americano. At nearly double the price of regular coffee, the customer reluctantly accepted.

  What kind of coffee place doesn’t serve decaf?

  She quickly scanned the menu before it was her turn to order. She needed something strong, hot and foamy.

  “Try the Censored Hot Brew,” a deep voice murmured over her shoulder.

  She spun at the slight feeling that she might recognize the voice. And there he was—Scott Weston.

  He wore a crisp, solid white button-down shirt with a tan blazer. His hair was the same golden brown with slightly curled ends that Elle found mesmerizing the night before. And that killer slow smile when her own features registered him. “Isabel,” he acknowledged with a slight nod.

  So sophisticated.

  Elle smiled back and was just about to say God knows what, before the barista abruptly called out, “What can I get started for you?”

  Elle turned back. “Ah, large censored hot brew—please.”

  Scott’s lip curved and he glanced at his shoes.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” she said but didn’t look directly at him for fear of blushing seeing him in broad daylight.

  He slipped in front of her in line, and now faced the cashier, handing her a clear plastic card. She realized that he was paying for both their orders.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t even hear you order.”

  “I didn’t. They know my usual.”

  Usual? Oh no, does he work around here?

  “So what did I just order?” she asked to keep herself cool.

  “Exactly what you wanted,” he replied casually with a small shrug. He picked up her drink at the counter. “You take sugar?”

  Definitely. But all she could manage was a nod. “How did you...”

  He handed her the drink with a grin and cleared his throat. “Your strong, hot and foamy, madam.”

  She stared at him as chills ran down her spine. “I said that out loud?” Not that it was so terrible but what else could she have subconsciously said out loud?

  Again, Scott grinned. “It’s a strong roast covered with foamed steamed milk. Hence the “censored”.”

  She nodded, appreciating the sensual creativity of the name. “So you work around here?” she asked, and immediately regretted it, since it would only prompt him to ask her the same.

  “No.”

  Strange, how does someone expect to be served their usual when they don’t work nearby? “Oh. You live here!”

  He chuckled this time. “No, I know the owner. What about you?” He gazed at her, admiringly.

  She bit her lip and moved aside from another customer who pushed past her.

  “Here, do you have a few? Let’s sit.” He motioned to an empty small round high-top table, and they took the two seats across each other. She took a slow sip from the steaming cup, knowing he was waiting for an answer.

  Well, I was running late this morning because of the detour you made me take last night in the middle of my first event on the job. So I snuck out to grab a decent cup of well-deserved expensive coffee. I am the newest and least respected employee at the firm across the street that served the hors d’oeurves you had yesterday at exactly 7:15 p.m., because that’s the time they were scheduled to be served!

  “I’m actually just on this side of town checking on a client,” she took a sip and smiled politely. Making a mental note that lying was okay since she didn’t intend on ever seeing this man again. Still, she kicked herself for her lack of creativity with the response.

  He eyed her intently.

  “Forgive me for not focusing on the current topic, but I’m extremely concerned to find that I am thinking out loud!” she said, desperately trying to avoid another blatant lie. “What other secrets have I revealed to the world, unintentionally?” she half smiled and half mocked utter shock.

  “Well lucky for you, you only muttered the G rated secret; how you take your coffee.”

  She bit her lip and tapped a fingernail on the plastic white lid. “Thank you, by the way. It’s perfect.” She took another sip of her delicious beverage. “So, tell me about your friend. Is this a franchise?”

  He seemed to be considering the question. “Oh, the owner. Not exactly a friend. Stewart, is more of a business acquaintance.”

  Of course.

  “Well please let him know that I’m not only impressed with the taste, but the creativity of the name of my new favorite drink.”

  “I’ll be sure to let him know that Just Isabel is a big fan.”

  She offered a single nod, and refused to take the last name bait. She considered for a moment that Scott was implying why her opinion would matter. Then again, it should—she is a customer.

  “I really should be going.” She didn’t want to disappear from the office for too long.

  “Oh, do you have an appointment nearby?”

  She glanced at her phone to see a handful of emails come through. She scrolled down, making quick mental notes to herself about each one. She still held her phone a few inches from her when she stood. A no-subject email from Mimi asking her where she was; apparently Starr had brought over someone who ‘looked very important’ to meet her and her boss was irked that she wasn’t around.

  “Is that work?”

  “It’s my assistant,” she answered, without a skipped beat. It was a reflex of having to deal with head managers and owners of some of the most prominent venues. Sometimes Elle needed to sound like she was coming from the top. She was used to leveling herself with people like Scott Weston. Her old boss, Ron, used to remind her that with a slight raise of your head, no one will ever be the wiser.

  “She’s just reminding me of my busy schedule today,” she smiled politely. “Thanks for the coffee,” she repeated, ironing out her skirt so she could take another second to decide if she should extend a hand. It was something she typically never thought twice about but this man seemed to have stirred something in her. She cleared her throat and extended her hand with her head held particularly too high for it to look natural, she was sure of it. “It was a pleasure running into you.”

  Scott stood and t
ook her hand, but didn’t shake it. He held it and locked eyes with her. It was as if he knew what he was doing to her.

  “Same,” he said simply. “I think it would only be fair if you bought the next round. Say, tomorrow?”

  Elle stared at the man who seemed like he was…asking her out? She mentally searched her library of witty and polite turn downs for when executives would ask her out. The words were there; she had several excuses: That’s so flattering, but not for this busy bee; I would in a heartbeat, but just can’t afford the distraction right now; Absolutely, why don’t I give you a call; we’ll plan a celebratory lunch after the event.

  But none sounded just right in her head—not for Scott Weston

  She realized she may have been staring at the man whose features were pure perfection and just uttered, “Um…”

  “Come on Ms. Isabel; don’t make me ask around about you.”

  God his eyes were really something. And the way he was looking at her; as if challenging her to say no. When he probably damn well knew she couldn’t.

  She let out a breath. “Tomorrow huh? How about 12:30?” She could substitute her lunch break for a cup of coffee.

  “Perfect.”

  “Don’t you need to check your calendar?” Guys like him always had a calendar to check. Then again, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if he cancelled. She had absolutely no business seeing this man again.

  He opened the door and winked at her just as she passed him. “I’ll move some things around.”

  Chapter 8

  Scott

  “Harrison, I need to see strategy,” Scott insisted after Todd Harrison, a multimillionaire entrepreneur, had sent Scott a worthy investment proposal. The man wasn’t drowning by any means, but his family-operated business certainly was. When numbers started dropping at his large printing organization last year, Harrison got nervous and stingy. Firing his well-paid GM and promoting a senior associate with little experience to run things. Scott was surprised by the stupid move by someone who was supposed to be in the top five of New York’s printing companies. A move like that usually meant the guy was desperate and taking advice from amateurs.

  He had met with Todd and his senior officers a few weeks earlier, looked over some quarterly reports and made a good amount of assessments on where it went south.

  Typically, the next step was for them to let him know what they planned to do to fix it. It wasn’t a game Scott played with his future partners. Nor was it a test. Before he committed to a partnership, he needed to know that the firms he was bailing out had in turn planned a well thought out business strategy that would potentially skyrocket numbers in the coming year. It didn’t need to be a sure thing. Scott knew every investment had its risks.

  But if the guy had nothing, then neither would Scott. It was as simple as that.

  “Look, my team is trying. But some suggestions would help here.”

  “I’m not a problem solver, Todd.”

  “Well then how do you know if what we come up with will work?”

  “I take chances on people with a plan. People who think and don’t give up. You stop thinking—you’ve given up. I’m not investing.” He was about to hang up but thought better of it before he blew an opportunity. “And I’m at my limits with these useless phone calls; call me when you have something solid.”

  He never said he was nice about it.

  He took a deep breath and looked at his watch for the seventh time in the past hour. It was almost time to meet her. A small but unmistakable spark went off in his chest. His eyebrows creased. He was excited to see her.

  The realization made him grit his teeth and he wondered if he should call it off. He enjoyed a life where nothing meant anything to him, and people were easily forgotten. Something told him Isabel was not a woman who would blend well with his lifestyle.

  But he didn’t get her phone number and would never keep a woman waiting.

  * * *

  “Apologies for my tardiness,” he offered one hour later. Isabel stood in front of the café where they’d agreed to meet. She looked radiant and flawless, if there were ever such a being. She wore a black dress that angled on one end, barely touching her knee, and a sapphire blue blazer. She met him with a smile, one that was too polite and formal.

  Surely, she’d thought they were on better terms than that.

  “I take it you haven’t eaten lunch yet?” he asked holding out an arm for her.

  Her face fell and she glanced at her watch. “Well, I...”

  “I didn’t think so; of course a busy woman like you couldn’t possibly stop to eat lunch. I bet your assistant grabs you a usual salad assortment from somewhere very specific.”

  She seemed comically offended and then lifted her head high. “That is not true. I like variety just as much as anyone.”

  He turned the corner and lightly pulled her along. “Ever been to Grainy Tavern?”

  “I have not…” she shook her head and turned back to the coffee house now half way up the block. “I really thought I’d buy you that coffee and be on my way.”

  Why does she keep doing that?

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t believe you’d come all this way to do just that,” he challenged. Something he rarely did with a woman.

  “I’m not coming from very far.”

  “Now I know your business dealings are on the lower west side.”

  She paused and turned to meet his challenging glare. “Fine, I’ll have lunch with you. But I’m not answering any questions about my business dealings.” She held up a finger. “Or, falling for any more traps.”

  He nodded once in agreement to her terms and held back a laugh. “It’s only fair.”

  They locked eyes for a moment and she offered him the same swift nod before following him inside.

  “Are you going to suggest something here for me as well?”

  He let out a grin but remained focused on his menu. “That depends if you’ll start mumbling cravings again.” When she didn’t respond, he glanced up and caught her smile behind her own menu.

  “Smoked salmon bowl.”

  “Great choice.”

  “It has capers, so I’m sold.”

  “Salty foods. Impressive,” he glanced at her.

  “Most women are into salty foods,” she said with a matter of fact.

  “But they don’t show it.”

  “That’s silly. What? Do they order a bowl of kale and just for color, some cherry tomatoes?”

  He laughed. She’d met half the woman he’d been on dates with. Which, an average male his age might consider too few, Scott considered too many.

  “So how do you know Donovan Hayes...and or Elaine?” he asked just before he set both their menus down to signal the waitress, they were ready to order.

  “I don’t.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, are you not the gorgeous woman I had the pleasure of speaking with for seven whole minutes the other night?”

  She shrugged, taking a sip of her water. “I crashed.”

  He laughed out loud. “A Donovan Hayes party? That wouldn’t be possible.”

  “Okay I’m lying. I was invited. But it was very last minute.”

  “You’ll be happy to know, everyone was invited last minute.”

  “You’re kidding. How’d they pull it off?”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “If you ever need event planners, Starr-Levy Events are your people, by the way,” he threw in.

  “What about you?” she asked almost instantly.

  “I’m in short term investments.”

  “Stocks?”

  “Businesses.”

  She watched him, waiting for more.

  Scott went into a very high-level description of his work and his investments. “They let me in cheap to save themselves. As soon as they manage to make it on their own, I pull out with my original investment plus a percentage of current assets.”

>   “That’s brilliant.”

  He smiled. Her compliment seemed so genuine. He then remembered their agreement of keeping her business private. He relayed their lunch order to the waitress and turned back to find Isabel studying him. He tilted his head when he could tell that she’d finally reached a question.

  But she took longer to ask, as if hesitant, or searching for the right words.

  It wasn’t a talent; it was more of a curse. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation without reading someone’s every tone and expression. It was part of the reason he rarely dated for too long. The women in his life either thought too much or not enough.

  “What was the inspiration of your first save?”

  “My first save?”

  “Every superhero has an origin story. What’s yours?”

  Scott raised a fascinated eyebrow to her analogy. It was one that he’d never considered. In fact, he thought the opposite. Often his involvement resulted in layoffs or smaller spaces, taking a few steps back in order to come back stronger. And most of the time, they did. Once in top shape, those firms worked on expanding. But only the stronger ones who learned where they went wrong in the first place would end up flourishing toward the end.

  “That sounds like a second date response.”

  Isabel eyed him and twisted her lips. “Hmm…do I really need to know that badly?” she mumbled.

  Scott laughed and nearly choked on his water. “I worked for a firm whose sole mission was to dissolve smaller companies that were in the way of larger ones from growing. In other words, these mom and pops were keeping the rich from getting richer.

  “And your job was to aid in the growth of monopolies.”

  Scott gave that harsh description a thought and couldn’t disagree. “I watched my firm aid in hostile takeovers, negotiating buyouts with downright threats, and...I didn’t like it.” Scott arched his back slightly to allow a young man to place their food out in front of them. “I was sent on a mission to get a CEO to sign fifty-one percent of the company to another, with the advice that their future didn’t look good. And the guy, knowing his company’s undeniable fate, refused. Said his father wouldn’t want it sold. He’d figure out a way to get business moving again, and if not, he’d go down trying.”