“Can I be of assistance?”
Sylvia lifted her head. It was the statuesque new girl.
“I’m not sure, Tempest.” Sylvia closed her planner and pushed it to the side. “Beth could be back tomorrow. I wouldn’t feel comfortable handing out her caseload to someone I don’t even know.”
“Beth won’t be back for at least a week.” Tempest paused. “Possibly longer.”
“I don’t need another employee.” Sylvia stood.
“And I don’t need to be shot down before I’m given a chance.” Tempest strolled to the front of the desk. “I’m damn good at what I do. I don’t want your job. I don’t want your clientele. I’m helping a friend.”
“Pretty words.”
“True ones.” Tempest smiled. “I appreciate the abrupt attitude. Believe me. But don’t count me out. I’m an asset. Use me.”
Sylvia nodded reluctantly. “Research conventional and unconventional colors for a Christmas wedding. I don’t want the same old crap. Find me something new I can bring to the Calhoun girl. Make it stunning.” Sylvia stared her in the eye. “Don’t disappoint me.”
“I don’t plan on it.” Tempest turned on her heel and left the office.
Jesus. Sylvia rubbed her forehead. Where was the Ben & Jerry’s when she needed it?
Five minutes later, Liz buzzed her.
The Calhouns were waiting for her.
Sylvia checked her hair and make-up one last time and hurried out of her office.
The man impressed her. The girl, woman, Sylvia amended, was stunning.
Keira Calhoun had the same tawny hair as her brother. But hers fell in large waves to the middle of her back. She had brilliant blue eyes and striking features. She wore a cream peasant blouse with a pair of designer blue jeans. A pair of leather designer sandals were showed off by several toe rings and a diamond anklet that cost more than Sylvia’s last vehicle. And the rock on her finger could very well blind her. Keira’s Jon didn’t do anything by half measures.
The full mouth broke into a smile, and Keira advanced on her.
“Ms. Masters!”
Sylvia smiled and extended her hand, but Keira moved closer and hugged her tightly. The woman’s expensive fragrance tickled her nose. Keira broke off and grinned.
“I’m sorry! I’m so excited to see you.”
“Thanks.” Sylvia pasted a smile on her face. She motioned to her office. “Shall we plan a wedding?”
Keira nodded. “I have lots of ideas, Sylvia. Can I call you Sylvia?”
“Sure.”
Tristan cleared his throat and shrugged. Sylvia scowled at him but smiled at Keira. “You can definitely call me Sylvia. We’ll be rather close over the next few months. A Christmas wedding, I hear.”
“Yes.”
Sylvia closed her office door and motioned to the chairs on the other side of the desk. “Have a seat, and we’ll begin.”
No sooner had Keira’s ass hit the chair than she began talking about what she wanted. Sylvia nodded in the appropriate places since a verbal response didn’t seem to be needed. That went on for a full twenty minutes before Sylvia lifted her hand.
Keira stopped in mid-sentence.
“Now.” Sylvia smiled her best smile. “I understand, Keira. And you have lovely ideas. But I have a list of things we need to work on. A wedding can take up to a year to plan. We have four months.” She passed the bride a list and one to Tristan. “If you’ll notice, some things take precedence here.” Sylvia tapped the paper. “The big musts right now are a wedding planner, a reception site, and an announcement of the wedding.”
“We’re one for three,” Tristan added.
“But a good one.” Sylvia smiled. “We’ll have a list of reception sites to you by the end of the week. If you’ll fax me an announcement, I’ll make sure that it’s published in all the papers.”
“Then what?” Keira frowned. “I’m not even sure what colors I want. A wedding cake. Flowers. Any of it!”
“It’s okay.” Sylvia softened her voice. “This will be your day, Keira. A day that begins your new life with your husband, Jon. And it will be absolutely perfect. But you have to trust me to put everything in place for you. That’s why you hired me.”
Keira smiled and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right.” She blew out a breath. “It’s just so huge. And I feel like Christmas is just around the corner.”
Sylvia reached across to pat her hand. “We’ll get there. Don’t doubt it. I have assistants working on color schemes right now. We’ll find something you will absolutely love. I guarantee it.”
“And the cost?”
Keira turned and scowled at her brother. “Tristan!”
“It’s all right.” Sylvia soothed her and smiled. “I’ll have an estimate faxed to your brother’s office for every item. There are no hidden costs. He’ll have everything in black and white in front of him.”
“That’s all he ever does.” Keira sighed. “Pore over his damn ledgers. I thought it would be a good idea to get him out of the office to help with this.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. “You promised to behave.”
Sylvia covered her laugh with an indelicate cough. She patted her chest and prayed she wouldn’t break out into hysterical laughter.
Tristan behave? That seemed a stretch by anyone’s imagination. This man had to be in control of every aspect of his life. Why would his sister’s wedding be any different?
Sylvia cleared her throat and stood with a smile. “Your brother is perfectly within his rights to question anything and everything I do. He is, after all, paying for this. And I can respect his concern.”
Keira frowned. “Are you sure? He can be a bit of a steamroller.”
“Hey,” Tristan interrupted and waved his hand in front of the women. “Still in the same room here.”
Sylvia ignored him and focused on reassuring Keira. “I realize your brother might be a bit difficult, but I’m sure the two of us can come together for the sake of your wedding.” Her tone hardened as she glanced at Tristan. “After all, this is about your day and your happiness. Everything else is secondary.”
Keira’s face lit up. “You’re perfect! Thank you!” She hurried over to Sylvia and hugged her again. “I’ll be down in the kitchen. Liz said you have an espresso machine and fresh biscotti.” Keira pecked her brother’s cheek and practically danced out of the room.
Sylvia smoothed down her pantsuit and glanced up at Tristan. He studied her closely.
“That was smooth,” he drawled.
She smiled. “Your sister is a sweet kid. It’s my job to reassure her.”
Tristan moved closer. Sylvia could smell his aftershave. Damn, the man smelled delicious. She cocked her head and looked up at him.
“I’m referring to the part where you put me in my place under the guise of ensuring my sister’s happiness.” His brandy-colored eyes didn’t break contact. Tristan’s voice lowered. “Smooth,” he repeated.
Sylvia stiffened her spine and met his eyes. “Your sister is my priority, Mr. Calhoun.” The words were sharp and pointed. “If you choose not to use our services, then that will be up to you break it to your sister. Likewise, if you and I cannot come to a compromise.” Her blue eyes challenged him.
Tristan smiled slowly. “Ah, Sylvia.” He breathed the name out and touched her collar. “I’m sure you and I can reach several compromises.”
Sylvia arched an eyebrow and removed his hand. “Not if they include me on my back and your pants off.”
Tristan barked out a laugh. He shook his head. “You’re so hard and distant. Your nice professional wall in place. We could be friends, Sylvia.”
“No.” The word came out definitive. “I have no interest in being ‘friends’ with you, Mr. Calhoun.” Sylvia brushed her hand through her hair. “Go open your little black book and find a date for this evening. I have no interest.”
“The invitation stands.” Tristan buttoned up his suit.
“So d
oes the refusal.” Sylvia smiled. “I’ll fax you pertinent information as it becomes available.” She stuck her hand out.
Tristan took it and rubbed his thumb along her palm. “I look forward to it.” He nodded once, dropped her hand, and left her office.
Sylvia rubbed her fingers along her palm where Tristan stroked the flesh. Dangerous, that one. Used to turning on that charm to get whatever he wants. Whoever he wants. And Sylvia would never be just another notch on any man’s bedpost. Including the attractive Mr. Calhoun.
She sat at her desk and tried to sort out the timetable for the Calhoun wedding. The only problem she may come across would be Jon’s parents. There was many a future mother-in-law who could and did throw a monkey wrench in the works.
Several hours later, Sylvia closed down her computer and stretched. She would grab a bite to eat and then do some research of her own. Giving Tempest the colors was a simple test. But Sylvia had ideas of her own.
She stood and then stopped.
Speak of the devil.
Tempest smiled and held out a folder to her.
Sylvia took it and waited.
“I spoke with Keira and Tristan in the kitchen for a few minutes before they left.” Tempest’s husky voice lightened. “Keira glows.”
“I know.” Sylvia allowed herself a small smile and tapped the folder. “What is this?”
“The colors.”
Sylvia frowned and opened the folder. Green and gold. It was a complete homage to Ireland. The smile took her by surprise. Sylvia closed the folder and studied the woman in front of her.
“Why Ireland?”
“It’s their heritage.” Tempest nodded. “They both have Claddagh rings. Tristan wears his on his pinkie. Keira has a toe ring. She also wore a bracelet of Celtic knots.” Tempest paused. “I also found out that Jon is of the same background. It seemed perfect.”
“And did you mention these colors to the client?”
“No.” Tempest motioned to the folder. “These are for you to decide. You’re the boss.”
“I see that we agree on two things.” Sylvia slid the folder onto her desk and turned to Tempest once more. “Good job on the colors. You may not be such a hindrance after all.”
Tempest’s lips twitched. “I’ll take that in the spirit given, not the way it came out.”
“You’re an unknown.” Sylvia tapped her fingers on her desk. “And I don’t like unknowns. I’ve built this company from nothing. It is, by far, the most important thing in my life. So. While your appearance seems fortuitous, I’ll withhold judgment until I have further information.”
“I appreciate your honesty.” Tempest motioned to the folder. “There’s also a list in the back of florists that do specialty bouquets along this line. Three of the shops sell gilded rose petals in a rainbow of colors.” She turned on her heel and left the office.
“Show-off,” Sylvia muttered. She reopened the folder and studied the contents. Okay. Tempest is good. Hell. Very good. There were also private emails listed as contacts. It usually took an act of God to get those.
Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Sylvia sat back down and thumbed through the pictures in the folder.
Clever scheme. And green and gold were beautiful colors. She could do a lot with accent colors and wedding shots.
Liz sent a call through ten minutes later, and Sylvia snarled a response. She immediately bit back on the hatefulness. She forgot to tell Liz that she was in the middle of something. For all her secretary knew, she had been at lunch. And she always worked through lunch.
Sylvia picked up the phone. “Hello.”
Rapid Japanese shot out at her, and she responded in kind. The discussion became heated, and Sylvia took a drink of her cold coffee and grimaced. The man kept repeating that she ordered too many fortune cookies. His small factory could not keep up with demand.
Sylvia explained that he could keep up, or she would take her business elsewhere. After a few minutes, the man’s defeated voice gave in. She grinned and hung up the phone. When she looked up, the smile faded.
Tristan Calhoun. My God, the man is a mountain.
He held two large drinks in his hand.
Sylvia walked, as if in a trance, to the cups. “Please tell me that’s coffee.”
Tristan waved the cup in front of her nose. “The best coffee in the city.” He took the cup back and cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t know you spoke Japanese.”
“Gimme.” Sylvia snatched the coffee and sipped it with a contented sigh. “Japanese, Russian, Spanish, Chinese, and French. I also speak a smattering of Czech and Turkish.”
She took another sip. “For the Love of God. I need to buy stock in this.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “So good.”
Sylvia’s eyes popped open to see Tristan smiling at her. She fought the blush and turned her back to him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Calhoun?”
“Tristan,” he reminded her.
She simply smiled and waited patiently. When she turned around, he held a picnic basket out in front of him. Her smile slid from her face. Sneaky bastard.
“You and Yogi have plans?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Not that I’m aware of. But I’d like to have lunch with you. Liz said you hadn’t left yet.”
“I’ll catch something later.” Sylvia’s stomach growled, and she mentally cursed it.
“Parts of you are hungry now.”
She leveled him with a stare. “I distinctly heard myself say no. Yet here you are. Waiting. Picnic basket in hand. Does this usually work for you?” she asked.
Temper flashed on his face for a second before he nodded. “Occasionally, Ms. Masters. I can be extremely persistent.”
“That’s wonderful.” Sylvia smiled. “Because so can I.”
“Truce.” Tristan sighed and held his hands up. “You’re starving. Keira dragged me all over this godforsaken town today. I need to eat. I’m simply killing two birds with one stone.”
“Nothing about you is simple, Mr. Calhoun.” Sylvia inhaled deeply. She could smell chicken in that basket. Food she didn’t have to make herself or pay someone else to make. There would probably be wine, too. A nice glass of red would be heavenly right now.
“We’ll eat on the carpet.” Sylvia walked to her closet and pulled out a cream sheet and spread it on the rug. “This will have to do for a picnic blanket.”
Tristan arched an eyebrow and motioned to the sheet. “Sleep here much?”
“No.” She smiled. “But I like to be prepared.” Sylvia sank down to the sheet and motioned to the large wicker basket. “What do we have?”
She watched in awe as Tristan removed several sandwiches, salads, and desserts. The basket stuffed to overflowing. And there were delicious chicken breast sandwiches. Sylvia put two on her plate. She wanted to taste one of everything. But considering she didn’t have sweatpants in her closet, that probably wouldn’t be wise.
“Worth it?” Tristan asked as he piled food on his plate.
“Yes,” Sylvia admitted reluctantly. “I was rather wrapped up in work. Oh!” She started to stand, but Tristan took her hand and pulled her back down. “It can wait, woman. Eat lunch. Let your food settle. You can tell me whatever it is when we’re done.”
Sylvia narrowed her blue eyes and sat back down. “Don’t think I’m sitting down because you thought it wise.” She took a sip of wine. “I sat because I chose to.”
Tristan threw back his head and laughed. “I’m well aware of that, Ms. Masters.”
“Thank you.”
The smile slid from Tristan’s face. “Didn’t hurt too badly, did it?”
Her lips twitched. “Nothing a little red wine can’t fix.” Sylvia motioned to the basket. “You do have red wine, don’t you?”
Tristan placed his hand over his heart. “You wound me, Sylvia.” He pulled out two wineglasses and poured the wine to half full. He handed her a glass and smiled.
“To Keira’s wedding. And a lifetime of happiness.”
They clinked glasses, and Sylvia took a sip. High class spirits. Just like the man across from her. A man used to getting exactly what he wanted. The thought didn’t leave her mind for a second. As long as she kept that little nugget close at hand, she couldn’t go wrong.
“Where’s the taskmaster now?” Sylvia took a bite of her sandwich and waited.
Tristan sighed. “I called in back-up. Currently her best friends, Jill and Tina, are keeping my lovely sister company. Keira’s not available to drive me mad. I’m buying lunch for all of them. It’s a great trade.”
“Ever the businessman.” Sylvia lifted her wineglass and gave him a mock toast.
Tristan shrugged his big shoulders. “It makes her happy.”
Sylvia took another sip of her wine. “And what made you decide to darken my door with the picnic basket?”
Those brandy-colored eyes studied her. “I thought it best to make nice with the wedding planner.”
“Bullshit,” Sylvia said mildly and smiled. “You thought to bring up your offer of ‘friendship’ again, I’m quite sure.”
“Would being my friend be so bad, Sylvia?” Tristan leaned forward mere inches from her face.
Sylvia leaned forward, also. “I’m not paying the price, Mr. Calhoun.” She paused. “I don’t mind enjoying the occasional lunch sharing. But I’m not interested in pursuing this past that.” She leaned back.
“We’re a lot alike, you know.” Tristan took a bite of the chicken sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “We work hard. I thought someone so like-minded would enjoy a bit of a break.”
“I do.” Sylvia smiled. “On my terms.”
“Terms are negotiable.” Tristan smiled.
Sylvia’s lips twitched. “Mine are not.”
He sighed and took a sip of wine. “Then the opera is out?”
“The opera. The jet to Rio De Janeiro. And all the other nonsense I can quite easily afford for myself.” Sylvia met his eyes. “I like to be able to choose the company I keep, Mr. Calhoun. Not have it forced upon me.”
“Point taken.” Tristan stood and brushed his hands through his hair and then buttoned his suit. He nodded his head. “Enjoy the lunch, Sylvia. I’ll have one of my people pick up the basket sometime later today.” He turned and walked out the door.
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