She had even dressed the part—loose white linen pants and a cream waterfall jersey that hid the curves of her body effectively. And then she had resolved never to think about him and what he did to her body, to her heart, again. She had focused on her work and come up with a pretty decent idea, even if she said so herself. Now she was just waiting for him to acknowledge it.
‘It’s a good idea. A really good one.’ He tilted his head. ‘A gala event for all our potential investors would do wonders for their interest in the hotel. Especially if they’re introduced to the competition. I just don’t know how you’ll be able to pull it off in seven days. Maybe we should push it back?’
‘Timing is important.’ The words were so formal that she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at herself. ‘We should hold the event when the proposals are still fresh in the investors’ minds and before the negotiations start, so it can help influence their decisions. That means next Friday is our best bet.’
She sighed when he didn’t respond.
‘It’s just an idea,’ she said. ‘But I think that if we do this we’ll have an opportunity to show the investors the possibility of much larger events in the hotel. So far we’ve only done corporate events, but if we started adding birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, I think it would be a source of revenue for the hotel that will increase profits immensely.’
‘Yes, I saw all that in your email. But how?’ Blake stood now, and leaned against the table as he had so many times in the weeks they’d worked together. ‘How are we going to pull off the best event the hotel has ever given in a week?’
She faltered. ‘We could do it. We’ve racked up favours from all kinds of vendors and services, and I know a lot of them would be grateful for the opportunity to—’
‘How long did it take you to organise my welcome event?’
‘I didn’t organise that. Connor did, mostly.’
‘How long did it take Connor to organise the event?’
She bit her lip, and didn’t answer him immediately.
‘Callie, how long did it take for Connor to organise the event?’
‘Fourteen weeks.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Fourteen? And you want to throw an event bigger than that in one week? In addition to working on the proposals we’ll be doing for four of those seven days?’
She locked her jaw and looked at him. ‘Yes.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Forget it—it’s fine.’ She turned away.
‘Callie, wait,’ he said, before she could leave. ‘I was going to say I don’t think you can do it alone. We’ll have to get everyone involved. We need to call in all our favours, with every vendor and every service provider, and make this happen. Because we can do it. Together.’
Suddenly Callie was transported back to the previous day, when similar words had made her feel more valued than she ever had before. And she cursed him for still having the ability to make her feel that way.
‘Okay, great.’
He smiled at her, though there was something behind it that she hadn’t seen before. ‘So let’s get to it. There’s a lot of work to be done.’
Her heart stopped. ‘You’re going to help with this?’
He nodded. ‘That’s generally what’s meant by “together”.’
‘I just thought you meant all the staff.’
‘Oh, everyone will help. But you and I will be running it.’ He sat down and started typing on his laptop. ‘We seem to work well together.’
She stared at him, wondering who had kidnapped the surly boss she’d worked with before and replaced him with this cordial man in front of her.
‘Yeah, apparently we do.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘ARE YOU READY to go?’
Blake stood in the doorway of her office and she nodded, scribbling a note to remind herself to check when the lights for the gala event would arrive for set-up.
‘Let’s do this.’ She grabbed her handbag and locked up, following him to the front of the hotel. ‘I think I might actually be looking forward to this.’
He laughed and nodded his thanks when John pulled the car in front of them. ‘It’s food—what’s not to look forward to?’
How about the fact that we have to do this together?
But she smiled in response, clinging to the truce that had settled between them over the last few days. The proposals were going well, and now, since the German investor they had seen today had had to attend another meeting in the afternoon, they had some more time to work on the gala event.
Blake had arranged that they do a tasting to ensure the catering for the event was good, and she had resigned herself to the fact that she had to go. Eating together—even professionally—seemed dangerously close to a date, but Callie had agreed because she didn’t want to rock the boat between her and Blake. She almost rolled her eyes at the description—why did it need to be a boat?—but then remembered that Blake always seemed to be watching her recently. And she didn’t want to invite any questions she wasn’t willing to answer.
‘We never really spoke about how you chose this restaurant,’ she said once they were in the car, hoping to stop her annoying train of thought.
‘This is one of the rare restaurants I’ve actually been to in Cape Town.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ He glanced over at her, but his expression was closed. ‘My father has been friends with the owner since before I was born. When we did go out together, it was generally there.’
She frowned. ‘Then why are we doing a tasting, if you already know how the food tastes?’
‘For several reasons. One being that they’ve recently hired a new chef. He came with new menus, and I haven’t had a chance to taste anything on them yet. Another is that I need you to make sure I’ve made a decent choice and not just gone with something I know because I trust that the catering will be reliable.’
It made sense, she thought, though she wished he might have said, Oh, I see your point—we can just skip this.
‘There’s a lot to be said for reliability,’ she said. ‘The last thing we want on Friday is to worry that the food won’t be good or won’t arrive when it should.’
‘Which is why I hope you’ll give this place the stamp of approval.’
Callie didn’t answer, instead looking out of the window at the hills they passed. She didn’t come to this side of Cape Town very often, she thought, as the hills become vineyards. It was a popular venue for large events—weddings, especially—and many of the vineyards offered wine-tastings. Though she had recommended it as a weekend activity for her guests, she had never considered including it on her tours since she knew they would always be battling traffic to get back to the hotel in the afternoons. And, more importantly, she didn’t want to deal with tipsy guests and the potential problems they brought.
As Blake turned on to a gravel road that slowly inclined Callie looked up to the top and saw a building made mostly of glass. It was beautifully designed, with curves that spoke of specialised techniques and artistry even to an amateur eye like hers.
‘Is that it?’ she breathed, but didn’t need an answer when Blake pulled into the car park. ‘It’s amazing.’
‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘And the inside is even better.’
He guided her into the restaurant, where they were greeted politely, and while Blake spoke to the maître d’ Callie looked around and was forced to agree with Blake about the interior design. Wooden tiles swept across the floor and chandeliers hung from the roof. The glass exterior meant that the restaurant’s patrons were treated to a spectacular view of the winelands and, from their position at the top of the hill, some of the city as well.
They were led up spiralling stairs, from where Callie could appreciate the deco
r of the restaurant even more. It was definitely an upper-class restaurant, but the subtle touches of warmth—like the soft yellow and white table settings—made her think that the owners wanted to avoid the alienating effect more expensive restaurants often had.
When they finally stopped climbing she was out of breath, and she looked around, realising that they had climbed to the top of the building while she had been distracted by aesthetics. And then the maître d’ led them through a door and she lost her breath altogether.
‘Blake...’ she said, but couldn’t even continue as she took in the beauty of their location.
She was standing on the rooftop of the restaurant, overlooking the view she had thought so spectacular only a few moments ago. Except now she felt that description had been overzealous, since what she was looking at from here was better than the view through the glass walls.
Blake smiled at her reaction and led her to a table at the edge of the rooftop, from where she could see everything merely by turning her head to the left.
‘How did you arrange this?’ she asked, when they were seated and the maître d’ had been replaced by a perky waitress.
‘Connections,’ he said, and shrugged as though sitting on the roof of a restaurant was normal. ‘I take it you like it?’
‘I really do.’
‘So do I,’ he said, and looked out to the view. There was a slight breeze that helped lessen the effect of the summer sun and rustled through Blake’s hair like leaves during the autumn. ‘I don’t think I will ever get tired of this.’
She had been wrong, she realised. Even though getting them to the rooftop might have been easy for her boss, the experience wasn’t lost on him. That loosened something inside her—something that had stuck the night she had told him to forget everything that had happened between them. The fact that something so simple, something so small, could make her heart ache for him again told her she was in trouble.
So she pulled back, forced herself to act professionally. She made the right sounds when the food was served, agreeing on some dishes, asking for variations on others. She made polite conversation with Blake about the weather, about work, about the event preparations that were coming along nicely. She had almost congratulated herself on surviving when the waitress brought out dessert.
‘We’ve prepared a variety of dishes for you to taste,’ said the pretty blonde, who had been incredibly helpful throughout the tasting.
Callie wondered if she had been warned about who she would be dealing with.
‘Chocolate mousse, strawberry cheesecake with berry coulis, pecan pie, and a cream cheese and carrot cake trifle.’ She pointed at the individual dishes, which were lined up on a long plate. ‘You can choose three of these desserts to be served at your event. Please do let me know if you have any questions.’
She smiled brightly at them and then moved to join her colleagues.
Callie frowned as she looked at the plate in front of them, and her stomach dropped when she realised that the waitress wouldn’t be bringing out a second. And then she saw the spoons on the table—two of them—and mentally kicked herself for thinking that the restaurant must be encouraging romantic dessert-sharing.
‘I suppose we start at each end and move in?’ she said, hoping to sound logical about it.
His lips twitched. ‘Yes, let’s do that.’
She frowned slightly, but chose to ignore him, and instead took a bite from the chocolate mousse. She closed her eyes as it melted in her mouth. She had never tasted anything like it, she thought, and greedily dipped her spoon into the small dish for another bite.
But as she lifted it to her mouth she realised Blake was watching her, and she felt heat flush through her body when she saw the desire in his eyes.
She put the spoon down slowly and said huskily, ‘I’m sorry, I suppose I’m being selfish by taking another bite.’
She cringed at her words, knowing full well it wasn’t selfishness that had caused her to pause.
He didn’t respond, but reached over and took the spoon from her plate instead. ‘I don’t mind you being selfish,’ he said, and lifted the spoon to her mouth.
She opened it on a reflex, though her eyes never left his, and felt a thrill work its way through her body. The mousse melted in her mouth, just as it had the first time, but she didn’t taste it now. No, she was remembering the way he had tasted when they’d kissed, the way his eyes had heated just as they did now, the electricity that had sparked between them.
The sun was setting behind him, and it cast a glow over them that made everything seem a little surreal—as if they were in a romantic film and about to shoot the perfect ending. She wished it were that which made Blake look like a movie star, but she knew that Blake’s looks were not an illusion. Her handsome, gorgeous boss was all too real, and with each moment she spent with him she wanted him to become a part of her reality. She wanted that heat, that electricity, his taste to be hers.
And, even though it couldn’t be, for once she didn’t fight showing how much she wanted it.
His eyes darkened at what he saw in hers and he placed the spoon down on her plate again and leaned over to kiss her. She felt it right down to her toes...the slow simmer of passion although his lips were only lightly pressed against hers. The taste she had longed for only a few moments earlier was sweeter than the dessert she had just eaten, and it wiped away the memory of it.
She wanted to deepen the kiss, to take more, but the sane, rational part of her brain—the part that was half frozen by his kiss—reminded her that they were in a public place and she pulled back, feeling embarrassed and needy from what she knew had only been a brief kiss.
She reached for her glass of water at almost exactly the same time he did and she drank, grateful that the glass hid the smile that crept onto her face for one silly moment.
He cleared his throat. ‘I can tell why you wanted another taste of that.’
She looked up at him in surprise, and bit her lip to stop the bubble of laughter that sat in her throat. But nothing was funny about this, she realised, and the thought banished her lingering amusement.
So she just smiled at him politely, and said, ‘We should probably finish the tasting and get back to the hotel. There are a couple more things I need to do before tomorrow.’
And just like that the mood between them shifted.
* * *
‘Are you done for the day?’
It was like déjà vu, Callie thought as she looked up to see Blake at her office door. It was only a few hours since she’d last seen him there, before they’d gone for the tasting. Before they’d tasted each other. She shook her head at the thought, resenting her mind for reminding her of the part of their afternoon that she really wished she could forget.
‘Yeah, just about. Why?’ She looked down at the papers in front of her, taking care not to look him in the eye.
‘Great. Connor’s asked me to take you home. He said something about your car breaking down yesterday?’
She was going to kill Connor. ‘Yeah, it did. But he said he would drop me at home.’
‘Something came up.’
Blake didn’t seem nearly as concerned as she did about spending time alone together in a car. Even after the tension that had mounted between them on their way back to the hotel. And the awkward parting they’d shared when they’d arrived.
‘It’s fine. I’ll call a taxi.’
Blake placed a hand on her own, which was reaching for her phone. ‘Callie, I’ll take you. I don’t mind.’
‘It’s really okay, Blake. I don’t want to put you out.’
‘This is the second time you’ve said no to my offer of taking you home.’
She looked at him in surprise when his words were spoken in a terse voice.
‘Why won’t you accept my help?’
<
br /> ‘Because you’re my boss,’ she said, grasping at the one thing that she could cling to. The very external thing that she held on to instead of admitting the real reasons she was pushing him away. ‘It isn’t appropriate.’
‘Can we both stop pretending that’s still a factor here?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘It’s the card you pull out every time you want to put distance between us, Callie. We both do.’
She stared at him as he walked into her office and closed the door.
‘I know I messed things up between us that night on the boat. I used our professional relationship as an excuse because I was scared. We were getting too close...and my judgement has failed me before.’
He didn’t look up at her, but for some reason she could tell his expression would be tortured.
‘My ex-wife was an employee. And marrying her was probably the worst decision I’ve made in my life.’
He lifted his eyes, and she could see that she’d been right. The look on his face tore her heart into two.
‘I just don’t know if I can trust my judgement any more.’
She could see that the admission had taken a lot from him. And she wished that she could take away the pain that had come with it.
Instead, she bit her lip and said softly, ‘I do use our professional relationship as an excuse.’ She played with a stray thread at the bottom of her jersey. ‘To distance myself from you—yes. And because...’ She sighed, and gave up on the resistance every part of her screamed out when it came to him. ‘Because I don’t want to have feelings for you. I don’t want to open up to you and have you shut me out again.’
Or, worse, have you leave.
But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
‘Do you...? Have feelings for me?’
She shouldn’t have said anything, she thought immediately, and then saw the sincerity in his eyes. Trust me, they seemed to say, and she spoke as honestly as she could.
The Tycoon's Reluctant Cinderella Page 10
