by Joanne Rock
“Makes you appreciate how fortunate you are to have me, doesn’t it?” He thumbed the remote on his corner television to raise the volume, a not-so-subtle signal to his brother their conversation was over.
“You could buy the business, you know.” Joe sat up again to reach behind him and tap the off button on the TV. “I checked out the profile on the company a couple of years ago and it’s got a great niche even if it’s struggling. We could spiff it up, make it rock-solid.”
“And milk the charm out of it in the process?” Adam had seen more than enough buy-outs, mergers and liquidations of smaller firms to last him a lifetime.
“Is that what you think we do?” Joe’s forehead furrowed.
Adam shrugged. “Don’t you?”
“Hell, no. I think we bring a unique perspective to every business we touch. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the future, bro, because I’d like to change our focus.”
“You want to take Dad’s spot, don’t you?”
It was the first time he could remember seeing his brother struggle for words. Adam would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching the smooth-talker get tongue-tied.
“It’s cool,” Adam reassured him, realizing how very okay he was with that. It could be his ticket to try some other things. Travel. Work on a few of his own business opportunities after busting his butt for so many years on his father’s workload. There had been a handful of businesses that Burns managed that held personal appeal for Adam, including a winery, a small market football team and now, amazingly, the perfume business. But he’d never been able to specialize in the areas he enjoyed because of the corporation’s vast diversification.
“I’d never want to take it if you—”
“No, I mean it.” The rightness of his brother’s ambition settled around Adam for the first time and he felt a weight rolling off his shoulders. He could think of other avenues for his life and his own ambitions. A few jasmine-scented possibilities came immediately to mind. “I wouldn’t be opposed to making a few changes myself….”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DANIELLE’S SHOP WAS a long way from the port in Villefranche, but she knew when the cruise ships had docked based on the traffic along the streets, and today the store was jammed with people.
To an outsider, Les Rêves looked like a successful business. Danielle knew she was hanging on by her manicured fingernails. But she would keep hanging on, damn it. She had sold off a few personal items in the month since she’d found out about Marcel’s mistakes—a car she didn’t need, a few paintings her mother had bought from friends who had gone on to achieve commercial success. But she hadn’t been willing to part with any of her mother’s work and she refused to sell the country house that Danielle had made her home since moving to Nice. Of course, she could just barely afford to keep all sixty-five employees on the payroll. If it came down to the house or the employees, Danielle would find an apartment to rent.
She hadn’t even had the heart to displace Marcel from the Paris house, although to his credit he had sold his Ferrari to return a small percentage of the money he’d lost through his bad investments. Danielle was in the process of buying him out and his name had been removed from the list of authorized parties with access to the company’s accounts. He would not be able to repeat his mistakes.
For now, contrite, he was manning the front counter along with his teenage daughter from his first marriage—a beautiful girl whose mother had been smart enough to uproot her daughter from Paris and relocate to Marseilles ten years ago. Danielle was touched that Marcel had offered to pay his daughter good wages from his own pocket to help keep Les Rêves in business while Danielle scrambled to stay afloat.
The Paris production operation was now being supervised by Marcel’s former assistant, a capable colleague who seemed to be invigorating the whole process. He’d proposed giving tours of the perfume factory, where many of the steps were still done by hand, so that Les Reeves could benefit from Paris tourism. Tours would require little financial commitment from the company and might result in substantial sales in an attached shop. Danielle was thrilled to back the new idea and to see enthusiasm from the employees despite the financial tightening.
Finishing up some paperwork, she was about to help out on the sales floor when a tentative tap came on her office door.
She knew that soft knock was not a man’s, and yet she couldn’t help the sense of anticipation she felt whenever a door opened or a phone rang. A foolish fancy since the man she hoped to see lived thousands of miles away and had made it a point to say goodbye to her.
“Danielle?”
The feminine voice was a familiar one although she hadn’t heard it in weeks.
“Ariana?” Danielle opened the door with a flourish and embraced the ship’s librarian. The two exchanged a few e-mails in the weeks since Danielle’s cruise in regard to a business project. “It is wonderful to see you.”
“You, too. I’m glad one of my days off landed on the Villefranche port of call so I could pop in to say hello. Business is good, I think.” She looked over her shoulder at the crowded store before Danielle shut the door on the noise out front. The scents of essential oils, body lotions and new all-organic fragrances still wafted around the office.
“Business has really kicked into high gear since I convinced the ship’s shopping coordinator to recommend our shop as a destination. I could not have done it without your help in pinpointing the right people to talk to.” She rooted around her office shelves for the gift box she’d wrapped as a small thank you.
“It was you who did the hard part.” Ariana insisted, waving away Danielle’s thanks with her easygoing manner.
“Well I could have never navigated the confusing personnel protocol without your guidance. Between that and your advice about who to talk to to pitch new in-room complimentary soaps for Argosy’s ships, I am very grateful.” She thrust the pink-and-gold wrapped package at her friend, who slid a small backpack off her shoulders before taking it.
“Thank you.” Ariana opened the package—an obscure recording of Wagner’s Rienzi opera—and squealed in delight. Danielle had not forgotten Ariana’s discussion of opera the night they’d spent researching online for resources to use in the Arabian Nights project.
After a moment Ariana set the package aside. “Danielle, could we talk for a minute more? I know you’re busy and I have a few appointments of my own, but I came to the store because I have some news you might need to hear.”
Immediately on alert, Danielle nodded, gesturing toward the matching pair of gold-damask club chairs across from her antique cherry desk.
“Of course. Please have a seat.” Danielle cleared away the gift wrap from Ariana’s present and sat, too. “Can I get you some coffee? Or maybe some sparkling water to combat this heat?”
“I’m fine.” Ariana smoothed her gray skirt as she took a seat. “I heard from our hotel manager that your Dubai contact booked another cruise for the spring.”
Danielle nodded, unsure why that would be a matter for concern.
“Alexandra’s Dream must have impressed him.”
“There’s more to it than that.” Ariana shifted uncomfortably. “Apparently he’s making some preliminary arrangements to use the cruise to unveil a new line of fragrances.”
Her stomach knotted as the news took on greater significance. Of course, it could be that Prestige Scents had decided to unveil a new product line totally independent of any ideas Danielle had brought to the table. Certainly, Ahmed hadn’t approached her about the Arabian Nights line. Her contract was for Les Rêves to supply existing scents in the United Arab Emirates marketplace while Adam’s company provided the lion’s share of perfume options specifically to Dubai customers.
“Did he mention what kind of fragrance line this would be?”
Heaven knew she was interested. Had Adam held back telling her about an idea he’d pitched to Ahmed? While it wouldn’t have been a strictly unethical decision, she would be hu
rt to think he’d seen what she was pitching and hadn’t fully explained his own original concept.
“Actually, he did. The hotel manager told me the company wants to unveil an Arabian-themed line and specifically asked if our chefs could create banquet food in keeping with the theme.”
Danielle could not come close to thinking of a response. She felt as if the rug had been pulled—no, yanked—out from underneath her.
Ariana leaned forward to cover Danielle’s hand with her own.
“I thought I should mention it since I helped you with research for just such a line. And while I’m sure your friend would never engage in that kind of corporate espionage, I did think the coincidence was a bit peculiar.”
Danielle’s eyes burned. This didn’t sound like the Adam she knew, and yet—mon Dieu. It would not be the first time she had been duped in just such a way.
“Thank you.” Those were the only words she could come up with while her heart slowly fell apart. “Thank you for telling me, Ariana. I owe you so much that I can never repay.”
“No.” Ariana squeezed her hand. “I’m grateful for your friendship.”
Danielle returned the squeeze, but her mind was racing. She had no choice but to contact Adam now to discuss the origins of this new line of fragrances.
Before seeing Ariana out, Danielle made plans to meet for lunch next month when the ship docked in Villefranche again.
Marcel hurried into the office uninvited. Their relationship had been patched carefully together only because her brother had extended numerous olive branches to her in the last few weeks. He carried a stack of papers, relegated to being Les Rêves’s gopher for as long as he wanted to work in the shop. He did regret his actions, and he’d joined a therapy group.
“Danielle, you need to go over these as soon as possible.” He thrust a stack of papers in her hand. “They’re applications for an operations manager to oversee the stores and the company’s day-to-day business. If we’re going to increase our sales volume, you can’t wait to get more help.”
She nodded absently, her mind not on work when her heart ached so deeply. How could she have been so wrong about Adam?
“I know.” She’d discussed the idea of the operations manager with Marcel strictly as her brother and not as her partner. She suspected he would always want to play some role in the company whether he owned shares or not, and as long as she watched over him carefully, that was all right with her. She would forgive him, but she would never trust him the same way again. “I can look them over now.”
“I ranked them in order of the candidates I thought were strongest. The guy on top has been hounding me for an appointment with you if you have time today.”
Danielle forced thoughts of Adam and the Arabian Nights line from her mind.
“Is that so?” She spun the paperwork around to read the qualifications of the first applicant. “I have time today, and now that the bank has processed the deposit from last week’s sales, I could probably afford to take on a salary for someone who will work hard to generate new—”
She stopped cold as she read the name typed neatly on the first line of the standard application form.
Adam Burns.
“What kind of joke is this?” How could Marcel skewer her heart with childish pranks after all the grief he’d caused over the last few weeks? Had she been wrong to accept his overtures of peace between them?
But Marcel wasn’t looking at her. He stood half in her office and half on the sales floor, his attention fixed on the shop door. He waved to someone she could not see.
A touch of panic seized her. Surely he could not have been serious about this so-called applicant wishing to have an appointment with her?
“Marcel.” Her whispered word contained a warning note.
“Just hear him out, Dani,” he whispered back, holding open her office door and ushering in all six-plus feet of the man she wanted to see and didn’t want to see. The man who filled her dreams and yet might have sold her ideas right out from under her.
She didn’t know what to say.
Adam removed a pair of aviator sunglasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket. He looked like a gorgeous, wealthy American tourist, the tense energy of a New Yorker apparent in his movement even when he was relaxed.
“If you’ll excuse me,” her brother interrupted. “I need to get back to the storefront.”
Danielle didn’t say anything as he left, closing the door behind him to give Adam and her privacy. She had a déjà vu moment back to that first day aboard Alexandra’s Dream when Jonathan Nordham had left them alone to get to know each other on an open deck overlooking the sea.
She’d been just as bowled over then, damn it. Shouldn’t she know better now?
“Hello, Danielle. Nice place you have here.” He gave her a crooked grin that spoke directly to her heart before her head could issue a warning.
Stifling the giddy sensation a woman sometimes felt as a result of a rapid pulse, Danielle vowed she would play this as coolly as him. No acting on instinct and definitely no consultation with her wild side where this man was concerned.
“Thank you. Congratulations on the Dubai account.” Perhaps that wasn’t playing it as cool as she would have liked, but she needed to find out what was happening there.
“To you, too.” His eyes roamed lightly over her, not in a sensual manner so much as in a warm, assessing way that reminded her how close they’d been a month ago. “I hear your fragrances are selling well already in the UAE marketplace.”
She took a fair amount of pride in that fact, actually. She allowed herself a moment’s pleasure in his recognition of that success. Despite Prestige’s fat contract, the company had not found the right personality to attach to the fragrance it wished to launch as its lead scent. In the meantime, Les Rêves’s primary scent would be arriving in stores throughout the United Arab Emirates this week.
“I have had healthy reorders so I cannot complain.” She tried to remember a self-improvement class she’d once taken that called for affirming mantras during times of life stress.
She told herself she was calm and collected. That she did not want to tear off this man’s clothes or jump into his arms.
And devil take him, why didn’t that self-help technique seem to be working?
Instead, she simply stared into his eyes and hoped he would give her some clue what he wanted and why he was here before she forgot all about her mantras and kidnapped him for a few days. Weeks.
Adam locked gazes with Danielle, ready to give anything to know what she was thinking right now. She had a mysterious quality to her elegance and sophistication, a veneer of togetherness that hadn’t even been cracked the night she discovered Marcel had sold her out. She’d simply excused herself from the situation and retreated upstairs.
Now, as she stood in front of him in her feminine pink suit, he wanted to touch her so badly he hurt and he hadn’t even come close to telling her all the things he’d come here to say.
“So what did you think of me as an applicant?” He figured he’d get the discussion rolling since she wasn’t exactly leaping into his arms to welcome him to her side of the ocean.
Peering around her office, which was both chic and comfortable, he thought about how different it was from the impersonal high-rise he’d left behind. Here, botanical prints in lavish gilt frames of various sizes added color to pale gold walls. On another wall, an antique baker’s cart held a collection of perfume bottles.
“You mean this?” She waved the piece of paper he’d given to Marcel in response to the ad he’d seen for a position with Les Rêves. “I think you found a clever way to make an appointment, but perhaps you should tell me what you really want from me, Adam?”
A-dam.
God she killed him. He’d been going crazy thinking about her the last few weeks and now that he was here, he could swear there was a wall two feet thick between them.
He debated the wisdom of putting himself on the line with her when
she seemed so aloof. Then again, he’d already taken a huge gamble to show up here. He wouldn’t dilute that by holding back now.
“Wait.” She held up a hand, cutting him off. “I have reached a point in my life where I do not wish to play games. I must ask you a question first.”
“Fire away. I’m all about cutting to the chase.” He’d done the same with Joe a month ago when he told his brother his new game plan. Sometimes it worked best to get everything out in the open.
Maybe clearing the air would take away this awkward tension between them so he could tell her why he was here. He’d thought about her so much the last few weeks that it was tearing him up not to be able to just hold her. Taste her. Bury his face in her hair, which he knew smelled like jasmine.
She took a deep breath as she met his gaze head-on, her violet eyes serious.
“I found out Ahmed is booking a cruise to launch a new fragrance line next spring.”
Ah, hell. He hadn’t meant for her to find out this way.
“Are you sure?” He’d wanted to tell her under different circumstances when they weren’t looking at one another as rivals.
“I have it from a very reliable source. Furthermore, the new fragrance line is scheduled to be Arabian-themed.” He couldn’t miss the wary look in her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“I need to come clean about a few things.” He’d hoped to tackle this part of the conversation last, but she’d moved it to top priority. “Maybe we should sit down.”
He gestured toward the chairs in front of her desk but she shook her head and pointed toward a window seat overlooking the street. Tourists, locals and cruise ship passengers hurried by on their way to cafés and shops during the lunch hour. Silk drapes in a soft shade of pink were tied back with golden rope, giving the whole room a girly appeal that charmed him. He wondered if she would ever be persuaded one day to pull the shade on the window and the silk curtains to indulge in a private moment on those gold tapestry cushions.
Wordlessly, she slipped off her heels and folded her legs under her in the window seat.
