“Anne!” Lauren bumped her with her hip. “No propositioning the clients. We’re a full service catering company, but that’s one service I draw the line at.”
“Besides, he could play for my team,” Ricky offered.
“That’s true,” Anne said with a sigh. “He did seem rather pleased with the way Lauren dressed the rooms.”
Lauren grinned, glad she’d impressed him. Not because he might be the man she drooled over, but because she needed this account. The Anders’ entertained here a few times a year, but they were on the East Coast the rest of the time. If Cameron Price took over on the West Coast, this account had amazing potential. Save them from catering for frantic brides kind of potential.
She finished off the salads, sprinkling yellow pear tomatoes, the cubes of creamy Brie, toasted pine nuts and the sweetened raspberries over the Mesclun. She loved this salad, the vibrant colors always impressed. She stored the plates in the bare fridge. There hadn’t been a single thing inside it when they arrived.
“The potato crisps are done,” Lauren said, scrunching her nose as she sniffed the air. Diego continued to be mesmerized by cuddling the giant bowl and whisking his pale green soup. “Go, you need to get those potatoes out.”
“One more minute.”
“One more minute and they’ll be burned. And that charred stench will permeate the house.” Lauren turned to face him, placing her hands on her hips. Diego was one of her best friends, but she would remind him who signed his paycheck to avoid a kitchen disaster.
“Lauren you really should take a peek.” Anne cocked a hip against the counter. “He was walking up the stairs, and in all my years I have never seen a more perfect—”
“Hey!” Diego cut in, setting the large bowl on the counter. “If I were talking about a woman that way, you’d all have my head.”
“Your ass is nice, too, buttercup.” Anne offered a matronly smile.
Lauren threw her hands up in the air. “Fine! I’ll take care of the potatoes myself.”
Why did everyone have their hormones in a knot? She marched toward the oven, pulling a towel off the counter to grab the pan with. The corner of the towel must have been under the bowl because it spun out of control and off the counter.
Sounds rushed at her ears. The clatter of the whisk as it flew out of the bowl and bounced against the granite, the thud of the bowl as it jumped onto the hardwood floor, the splat of the soup as it sloshed across her body, dripping down her face, against her starched white shirt and down her pants, where it met the rest of the dish soaking her feet. Everyone froze, staring at her for a second before Diego began barking orders.
“Ricky, take the potatoes out and sprinkle them with gray salt. Anne, you’re on this soup mess.” He stepped closer to her and reached out a hand to touch her, but pulled it back, probably to avoid coating himself with avocado. “Do you have another uniform in the car?”
Lauren shook her head, watching everyone bustle around her. “I picked up my dry cleaning on the way here, but—”
“Ricky, go to Lauren’s car and grab her dry cleaning bag.” Ricky’s curly head disappeared before she could protest. But then, what choice did she have? She stared down at her sensible black loafers, covered in green slime.
“Anne, I don’t suppose you have any shoes I could borrow?”
…
Cameron had barely unpacked his suitcases, could hardly make it into the office without getting lost, and he already had to put on a performance for the team of people who probably all thought they should’ve been given his job. He preferred to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else show their colors. But tonight, he was the one on display.
He stood on the landing and leaned over the railing, taking in the view of the downstairs. Come For Dinner Catering earned every penny, no matter what they charged. The house looked better than he’d ever seen it. Sonja Anders had decorated everything in white. Sterile, stark, cold. Now the rooms were washed in warm light, red scarves covering the lampshades and adding to the ambiance.
It was intimate, without being romantic. Classic, without being feminine. Everything he needed it to be. A weight lifted from him as he descended the stairs. He liked that it looked different, not wanting to seem like junior filling in for the old man.
The change in lighting, red pillows and throws on the couches, lush green plants in shiny silver pots, and vases overflowing with red roses lining the dining room table and scattered on every other open surface made a statement. Saying to all who entered he was here to make his mark on the company.
Ten minutes until the party started, guests would be arriving any minute. He wiped his palms against the gray wool of his slacks and closed his eyes, enjoying the solitude while he could.
A warm force plowed into his chest, opening his eyes with a start. He gripped the whirlwind by her slim shoulders and looked into her large round eyes framed by long blonde eyelashes. He couldn’t help but smile at the startled look in that gold flecked green gaze. He took in the smattering of freckles crossing her button nose, the long strawberry blonde hair pulled tight into a braid, and the milky skin of her shoulders bare, but for the thin spaghetti straps of her gauzy black dress. He blinked hard, bringing himself out of shock and dropped his hands, running one through his hair.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone had arrived yet.” Cameron looked about the room for her date, but saw no one. She looked vaguely familiar, but both of the female executives invited were old enough to be this woman’s mother. “Who did you come with?”
An impish grin played on her pouty pink lips. She held out her hand. “I’m Lauren Brody, from Come For Dinner Catering.”
“Oh. I apologize for assuming.” Stupid ass. Caterers could be pretty and well dressed. “I didn’t expect…wait, have we met?”
Her big green eyes widened and she gasped, her hand pressing against her stomach. Then just as quickly as she reacted, she calmed. “I’ve catered parties for the Anders’.” Her voice was breathy, almost to the point of a whisper.
“Have you decorated this same way?” His stomach sank. He’d look like a Bob Anders clone, the king of suck-ups.
“No.” She shook her head. “Mrs. Anders had her own sense of style. But I assumed since you had so little time to organize the dinner, you wouldn’t have time to decorate as well. It’s a service we provide for many of our single male clients.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “How did you know I was single?”
“I asked your assistant. I needed to know if you would have a date for the evening, for the seating arrangements.”
He nodded furiously. Right, seating arrangements. Couldn’t just tell people to plop down wherever at a formal dinner. Thank goodness Lauren had him covered on that end. For two years Sonja Anders had been gently reminding him he should have a wife, but lately her approach grew more direct. As in blatantly telling him he couldn’t handle his new position without a wife. As if he had the time or energy to devote to a relationship.
Sonja Anders was obviously wrong. He didn’t need a wife, just Come For Dinner Catering.
“If you’d like,” Lauren began, “I could give you a run through of how the night will go.” She crossed the room, turning on the stereo and picking up a butane lighter from an end table. Cameron relaxed his shoulders as the sounds of Pink Martini filled the large room.
“Isn’t that a little loud?”
“You want it just a smidge too loud at the beginning. Nothing is worse than stepping into a silent house. Gets the social swirl moving. Do you like it? I have other playlists if it’s not your style.”
“No, I’m a fan. The founder went to Harvard, so they’re pretty big back there.”
“You went to Harvard? Impressive. And a relief. I started with Sympathique, but Hang On Little Tomato is in the rotation.”
Cameron liked her before, but with eclectic tastes in music mirroring his own, she was dancing in dangerous territory. If he had time for trying a relationship, she’d be
an option. But showing his vulnerability to the world was not.
“I’ll turn it down as we start serving cocktails. Raspberry martinis, and of course, Chivas for Mr. Anders. We’ll be serving potato crisps with a caviar dip.” She slid about the room lighting candles. Did she know he needed to romance the team into trusting him?
“For dinner I’ll lower the volume more. Anita Baker should get us through the salad, and beef filet. When Pink Martini comes back around we serve a flourless chocolate cake with raspberries for dessert.”
She stepped around the room like she owned the place, far more comfortable there than he was. But then, she knew how to throw a party. He could convince people to invest millions in a groundbreaking idea with nothing more than his word, but he had no idea how to get those same people to enjoy a party.
“Thank you for putting all of this together. It’s exactly what I needed.”
A gleaming smile lit her face, lifting her rosy cheeks. “I’m glad to hear that. I hope—”
The shrill peal of the phone interrupted her. Cameron held up a finger so she would hold that thought and stepped to the side table, lifting the receiver. Before he got out so much as a hello, the doorbell chimed.
Chapter Two
Lauren scampered to the door, grateful for the chance to catch her breath. She’d tried to focus while talking to Cameron Price, but she kept getting distracted by his bright blue eyes, fringed with unfairly long dark lashes. And that voice. A rich baritone, filled with lascivious suggestion.
She checked her lip for drool and pulled open the front door. Bob and Sonja Anders stood at the entry and she stepped aside, waving them in. Sonja arched a perfectly shaped blonde brow and eyed Lauren as she entered the foyer.
Looking down at her feet, Lauren winced. Barefoot. Great way to impress a woman like Sonja Anders, shod in Prada’s finest.
“Can I take your coats?” Lauren offered, looking for any chance to slip away. In seconds Sonja would be commenting on Lauren’s lack of uniform and footwear, which might mean she’d have to explain about the unfortunate avocado incident. Best to disappear rather than let a client know something had gone wrong.
“Bob can hang them in the closet.” Sonja shrugged out of her ivory sheared mink coat to reveal an elegant off-white boucle dress suit. “Did you bring extra hangers down?”
Lauren nodded and wished she hadn’t doused herself in avocado. In her work uniform she knew her place. Her perfect little black dress usually made her feel confident and sexy, but next to Sonja Anders’s obvious couture, the black viscose silk felt off season. And being three years old, it was.
“This is very interesting,” Sonja said as Bob retreated with their coats. “I had no idea. I should have thought of it. You are the perfect solution.”
”Am I?” Lauren smiled, lost and desperately needing a translation. Was Sonja commenting on the slight changes in decor?
“You know, it makes perfect sense. He’s just so private about these matters. I actually asked Bob if he might be gay.”
The breath she’s just taken expanded in her chest. No one else was supposed to be on board her train of thought.
Sonja grinned and patted her arm. “I know. It would be a crying shame.”
“Sorry about that.” Cameron joined them and stood beside her. Lauren was glad for the reprieve from Sonja’s confusing scrutiny.
“I’m going to go check on dinner. It was nice seeing you again.” She smiled at Sonja and tried to retreat to the less puzzling confines of the kitchen, but Cameron’s warm fingers on her arm stalled her.
“Thank you, Lauren. For everything.” Oh, that smile could be lethal. Absolutely deadly. Lauren nodded and prayed he used his powers for good rather than evil.
…
“Quite a few women will be very disappointed.” Sonja Anders’s voice lilted as she shook her head and grinned, her perfectly coifed blonde hair not moving an inch.
“How so?” Never sure what to make of her, Cameron tried to remain noncommittal and hoped Bob would come back soon.
“You know Cameron, you could have told me you were seeing someone, saved me the trouble of compiling a list of potential women for you. But then—” She laid a hand on his arm, the rich pink manicured fingernails bright against the dark gray of his shirt. “This is new, isn’t it? I’ll keep the list, just in case.”
Damn. Sonja thought he and Lauren were together. He swallowed hard at the idea of her playing matchmaker. He had no time for dating, and even if he did care to, he couldn’t risk it, not with so much on the line.
“What’s this?” Bob Anders asked, joining the group.
“Cameron is seeing Lauren Brody,” Sonja supplied.
“Who’s that?” Bob scrunched his round face.
“The caterer.”
“Oh. Good choice. But a bit quick, Cameron.”
“I agree. If she doesn’t work out, he can start with a few of my suggestions.”
Cameron cleared his throat. “I’m not taking suggestions.” The Anders’ had been parental with him since Bob invited him to join the firm five years ago, but this crossed the line.
“Cameron, don’t start this again.” Sonja pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest. “You need someone to help you manage your life. You don’t understand the difficulty of the position you are taking on. The paycheck may only have your name on it, but it is a partnership. You need someone to manage the house, coordinate when you entertain, and be your eyes and ears at events. You can’t do this alone.”
“I’m not. I have Lauren.” Cameron understood why Sonja would be so sensitive about this, thinking he needed a wife the way Bob needed her. But he wasn’t about to go on dates to validate her sense of self-worth.
“For now.” Bob nodded. “And she is a great short-term solution, but if things sour you’ll be without a companion and a caterer. You should meet a few of Sonja’s choices, so you have options.”
“No.” Cameron shook his head and sighed. How did he make this stop without creating tension with the Anders’? The last thing he needed were people thinking they had a rift.
Sonja chuffed. “It can’t be that serious with her already. You just got here.”
“She’s been catering your parties for years.” Stop. Stop now. “Parties I attended, Sonja.” What are you doing?
“Oh.” Sonja stood up straighter. “My. Well, that certainly makes more sense now.”
“Good.” Glad it did to someone.
“So that’s why you never brought a date with you to parties in New York.” Bob’s cheery grin spread across his face. “You sly devil. No wonder you agreed so quickly to the move. I thought I’d have to sell you on it, but you jumped at the chance.”
Cameron opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. He’d only meant to make Sonja and Bob stop their badgering, not lie his way into a long-term relationship.
Thankfully the doorbell rang again, saving him from having to explain. Though, maybe he wouldn’t have to explain tonight. If he could just make it through this party, he could sort the rest out later.
“Would you mind getting that?” he asked Bob. “I need to see what’s keeping Lauren.”
Cameron dashed off without waiting for a response, needing to see if she’d be at all willing to play along for a night. He headed down the hallway to the kitchen he hadn’t so much as stepped into yet.
“Is he straight?” A falsetto voice asked from behind the closed door.
“Yes, he’s straight,” Lauren said. At least she’d determined that much from their conversation. “I think.”
Cameron winced.
“It doesn’t matter. The guests are arriving, so we need to get the drink service set, and the potato crisps circulating.”
“I’ll set the bar.” The falsetto was back. “I want to get a good look at old blue eyes and see which team he plays for.”
Just what he needed. Cameron shook his head and knocked on the kitchen door before entering. Everyone froze as he step
ped onto the tile, except for a tall, brawny, dark-haired guy by the stove.
Lauren recovered first. “Mr. Price, can I help you with something?”
He waited for her gaze to lock with his. “You can call me Cameron.” He smiled as the kitchen came to life again around them. “Can I talk to you for a moment, privately?”
“Absolutely.” She nodded, and then turned to her staff. “Diego, can you make sure the hors d’oeuvres get started?”
The brooding hulk lifted an eyebrow, to which Lauren shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. With a shrug of his own, he turned back around. Cameron’s stomach sank. He’d noticed she wore no ring, but didn’t think far enough ahead to realize a boyfriend might be in the picture. But then, he hadn’t done any thinking ahead where this plan was concerned. The doorbell gonged through the house, making Cameron wonder how loud it would seem first thing in the morning. There had to be a way to turn it down.
He ushered Lauren out of the kitchen and deeper into the hallway, turning them both into the den at the end of the hall. She looked up at him expectantly.
“I’ve done a really stupid thing,” Cameron began, taking a deep breath before digging his hole any deeper. He needed to know one thing about her before he tried to convince her of anything. “You and the big guy in the kitchen, are you together?”
“Big guy? You mean Diego? He’s not any taller than you.” Her rosy cheeks lifted in a smile. “Why would you think that?”
“Non-verbal communication. Speaks volumes about relationships.” And if she were in one, he wouldn’t even bother asking for this favor.
“Ah. We can do that because we often need to talk in front of clients. Like in the kitchen. He wanted to know if I knew what was wrong.”
“But outside of work, are you together?”
“Cameron, are you asking if I am single?” She cocked her head to the side, her long braid dangling over her shoulder.
“In a way, yes.”
“Diego and I are friends, good friends, but no sparks.”
The Billionaire's Holiday Engagement (Invested in Love) Page 2
