by Stacy Hoff
“Good Evening, Mr. Orland,” Charles said respectfully. “I hear you’re going to make lots of money for your charity tonight.”
“Good, Charles. Very good.”
Ty did his best to keep the smugness off his face, a real challenge. Success was a great thing. It was hard not to enjoy it. Especially when Cat was witnessing it.
“What charity is this for?” she asked, breaking his revere.
“Orland Charitable Foundation,” he answered, halting his step. “It acts as a giant funnel, giving to various non-profits. We try to rotate by category, so each get a turn at special funding. This year is focused on helping children with dyslexia and learning disabilities. It’s a cause close to my heart.”
“Really? Why?” She paused for a minute. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be intrusive.”
“It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. I grew up dyslexic so I had an even harder time than most in keeping up my grades.” Always second best. Tossed aside like some defect. Punished for a situation I was born with. “My parents put me in a free after-school program for dyslexic kids and after three solid years of it, I reversed my letters and numbers a lot less. I could read and write fluently and excelled in math. My grades went up and I finally felt like I was smart.”
He straightened up, back stiff. He didn’t want to look soft in front of her. “I want to pay it forward in life, that’s all. There are kids out there who need this kind of free help, too, or they’ll always be struggling.”
“I’m sorry you went through that. It’s wonderful you’re helping others.” Cat stopped walking. “Wait a minute,” she said. “I read your family is wealthy. They helped you out in the hotel business.”
Ty laughed but it didn’t sound mirthful. “My parents were poor. My aunt and uncle had all the money. They never helped us out financially or with business connections. Didn’t matter. I made my own success by becoming partners with my first cousin.”
“Choco.”
“Yes, Choco. You’re catching on to my life pretty quick.” He gave her a wink. “I’ll try not to be jealous you’ve got so much interest in my cousin. You’re my date for tonight. Shall we start enjoying ourselves?”
“I already am.”
She was obviously answering him with complete sincerity. The effect caused a different type of heat, one that was pure warmth. If he weren’t careful she’d melt him. “Then let’s go in,” he said gruffly.
The doors opened to a packed ballroom. The body heat made the room warm, though blissfully not as hot as the bar in their hotel. People were laughing, drinking, and checking out the items available for the silent auction. Quite a few pens were scribbling away, putting down bids. Mostly, though, people were gambling. No doubt tonight was going to be profitable. Excellent.
“Wow,” he heard Cat murmur. “Is all this really your foundation’s event? It’s incredible.”
“Yes.”
“You run everything here? In addition to running your hotel business?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer before Jacques, his majordomo, interrupted them. The stress must be getting to him, Ty observed. The tall, thin man was moving as fast as a whirlwind despite being almost sixty years old. Age was apparently not a factor though, his appearance youthful and distinguished. Ty could only hope he looked that good in a tuxedo at Jacques’ age.
“Mr. Orland, you should know that the band . . . oh, hello,” Jacques said, cutting himself off. “Pardon me, madam, for my rudeness. Jacques Leffite at your service.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Leffite. I’m Cat Warner. Please do continue with what you were saying. Don’t mind me.”
“Actually Jacques, you should mind her. She’s my date tonight. Business can wait.”
“But the band—”
“Handle it however you need to.”
Jacques nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Before I go, I should tell you the week at your Paris condo you put up for auction is already at twenty thousand dollars.” Turning to Cat, he added, “A most sincere pleasure meeting you, madam,” before disappearing.
Ty was glad to see Jacques leave. Whatever problem the event was having, he didn’t want to know about it. That’s why he paid Jacques the big bucks. Let him figure it out.
He was pleased Cat broke his train of thought. “This event of yours is fabulous. I love the DJ. Seeing all these people dancing. And the surroundings are so lush and gorgeous . . .”
Ty appraised her body. The only thing he was concerned with was how lush and gorgeous she looked.
“And the furnishings,” she continued. “Dark purples and cobalt blue colors everywhere. So warm and rich. Sumptuous, even.”
Ty opened his mouth to respond but bit back the obvious compliment. He decided to address her point instead. “I can’t take the credit, my staff arranges most of this. All I do is bring the big time contributors. Running the type of hotel chain I do gives me access to quite a few potential donors. Our patrons obviously have money to burn, so I thought I’d have them use some of it for the public good.”
“So one-half of you caters to the rich, the other half of you caters to the poor. You’re either schizophrenic or Robin Hood. Wait, what’s that banner off to the side of the stage say? Oh, my . . .”
“Yes, I like to hire notable rock bands. Don’t be so impressed. I’m gathering from Jacques’ obviously high stress level, they might not even show up for their ten o’clock start time. This is the fifth year I’m doing this event. I will personally kill these people if they screw it up for me.”
Cat stared at him, open mouth.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t actually kill them. We’ve already established I’m not a murderer. I’ll just sue them until they wish they were dead.” Yet another reason to hire a better law firm.
She laughed. “More scary stuff for school kids to know about you.”
She stood there, obviously surveying everything in the enormous room. Or trying to. There was a lot going on. Good. His event was going to impress the hell out of everybody. But for some reason, the only person he cared about impressing was her.
Was she impressed? After a minute of her silence, Ty spoke up. “I’m going to use one of the trite clichés you’ve been bombarded with. Cat got your tongue?”
“I guess so,” she said slowly. “Actually, I have a lot to say. Though I’m not sure which thoughts to get out first.”
“Start in any order.” He observed a waiter pass by with a tray full of champagne flutes. Ty stopped him, lifted two off, and offered one to Cat. “I hear alcohol helps move conversation along.”
Cat held it, but didn’t drink. “Okay, here’s my first thought. You must be a really good person to do this for charity.”
Ty felt the corners of his lips jerking upward. “I’ll try not to let that comment go to my head.”
“Fantastic, because the second thought I have is, why the heck would you not have had a date for this? You’re flawed, mister. Spill it. Are you a ‘hit and run’ kind of guy? Your millionth girlfriend dumped you because of it, leaving you at the last minute without a date?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” he deadpanned.
She felt her eyebrows furrow. “Okay, somehow I’m not buying that.”
“The truth is, I never bother getting a date. This event is for the charity to earn money, not for my social life to develop. I come here, hobnob, build better business connections, and then go home.”
“Not a real attached kind of guy, are you? Well, it works for me, so I’ll drink to that.”
He watched her take a gulp and swallow. “Are you a love ’em and leave ’em type, too?”
“More like the ‘don’t even trust ’em’ type.”
He nodded, holding back from revealing he felt the same way.
~ ~ ~
Cat was mesmerized by the party scene. Such a beautifully done event. Filled with beautiful people. Just like when she was a teenager back in Boston, attending one of the elaborate parties in the society circle she was forced to travel in. Only this time she was actually having fun. Then she snuck a peek at what she was wearing, noting she barely fit in. Well, some things never change.
“Can you excuse me for a minute, Ty? I need to go the ladies’ room.”
“Of course,” he answered, pointing her in the direction she needed to go.
Quickly she slipped away, seeing Jacques replace her by his side. Which of the two of them was harder working she didn’t know. Either way, they gave her and Vanessa a run for their money. It was something she had in common with Ty. She could relate to at least some of his pressures and the issues he faced in the hotel industry. At least on a small scale.
Imagine what she could learn from his experience. She could only hope to offer him some insights, too. She catered to people a very different way, but it was still effective. Numerous healthy eating choices on her menus. Individualized attention for her guests. To Cat, anyone who stayed at her inns deserved the same treatment as the elite would if staying at one of Ty’s locales.
In the bathroom, she did her best to fix herself up. The mirror reflected a ghost-like image of her mother grinning back at her, saying, “If you had dressed the way I told you, you would have safely passed inspection.”
Fortunately, Cat’s purse was big enough to carry the equivalent of an entire cosmetic counter with her. Her smaller pink makeup bag was out on the counter, under the brightly lit mirror, in seconds. Cat assessed her reflection and bit back a frown. This is going to take a lot of work.
Luckily, a good, strong brushing did wonders. Her hair was down now, gracefully framing her face. The change helped but was not enough. Despite her preference for a natural look, sometimes a woman needed help. Her purse kept her prepared for times like these. A peach tone lip-gloss helped bring out her lips. Blush powder, her cheekbones. The tiniest amount of mascara, her eyes.
If only she were wearing eveningwear, like the other women. Or heels, even. Her business suit wasn’t looking too good, or feeling too good. Not much she could do about it, other than open another button on the shirt and spread out the lapel to make it look less business like. A gaze in the mirror showed some improvement from when she’d first walked in.
Making her way back to Ty was exciting in itself. The scene before her was as impressive as any event to which she’d ever been. She viewed her surroundings with her jaw hung open. She pictured her lips dragging on the marble floor. Even her parents would be impressed with the party, and that was saying quite a bit.
A walk past several tables showed hundreds of items displayed for the silent auction. Jewelry pieces from designer stores. Signed artwork from the best galleries. Cruises on world-class ships. Rare bottles of wine or Scotch. Certificates for restaurants run by celebrity chefs promising on-demand seating. And, of course, pictures of the many Orland Premier Properties where people could bid for a “free” week’s stay. The man certainly did what he could to make this fundraiser bring in every possible dollar.
This event was going to be a winner, no doubt about it. To ensure everyone’s good time, servers were everywhere, handing out drinks and hors d’ oeuvres. It dawned on her she hadn’t eaten since she shared the bag of peanuts with Ty. From the moment she’d met him, all interest in anything other than him seemed to evaporate.
“You look lovely,” he remarked when she returned to him.
“Why thank you.” She could only hope he meant it. Regardless, it was a nice thing for him to say. “You’ve got an amazing event here. I don’t know how you do it. I couldn’t even put together the company picnic without stressing myself out.”
“The secret is to have a lot of capable staff. And to get yourself in a state of Zen.”
“Really? You’re into Zen?”
“No.” He smirked. “I don’t practice what I preach.”
“I’ll remember that when I hear your lecture this weekend.”
“You’re going to one of my lectures?” He quirked an eyebrow up at her.
“Yes. Two of them, actually. One on branding.” She shot him a sheepish look. “Because you’re supposed to be one of the best in the business.”
“I am,” he quipped.
“No need to be so pleased with yourself,” she responded, though her admonishment was light.
“Too late.” He laughed. “What’s the other topic you chose?”
Cat felt heat rush up to her face. She must be the color of a boysenberry. “Ummm . . .”
“Well, besides marketing, my only other talks are on budgeting and getting zoning variances. Should I guess you’re going to the one on budgeting?”
Stiffening her back, she nodded. No doubt he now surmised she needed his damn money. Well, he was in for a shock because she needed her land more.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He put his hand lightly on her back. “I can see this is a sensitive topic for you. Everybody goes through growing pains. I overgrew my business the first time, moving too fast for the income my hotels were generating. We learn from our mistakes and try to move on.”
She sucked her lips into her mouth and bit down to not say anything. He was more right as to what was happening with her inns than he could know. The last bed and breakfast she bought, her one real shot for solid growth, was dragging her down. An anchor.
“Hey,” he said again, gently lifting her chin up until he met her gaze. “We’re not supposed to be talking about business tonight, remember?”
She remembered all right. Specifically, how meeting him at the bar had given her stomach the same floppy feeling she had now. How his deep, intense, beautiful green eyes had almost held her spellbound.
“Right,” she gratefully agreed. The less Ty Orland knew about her business’s financial troubles, the better. Lifting the champagne flute to drink, she felt the bubbles of the cold, crisp liquid hit her lips. “Mmmm. The champagne is great. You don’t buy cheap, do you?”
The look he gave her was intense enough to start a fire. “I settle for nothing less than the best.”
She had the distinct feeling he wasn’t talking about her land anymore. Or the champagne, either. The fluttering in her stomach would reach her heart if she wasn’t careful. Not knowing how to respond, she quickly finished the drink.
She knew that after their one evening together, they’d go back to being business opponents. Worse, there was no possible way to break their impasse. He’d probably wind up being furious with her. After the high of being with him tonight, tomorrow she’d have the low. She felt her eyebrows furrow.
If she were smart, she’d spend the evening keeping this warning in mind. But right now, it was almost impossible to do. How could she, when his concern for her felt so real? Like he actually cared about her, personally and professionally. Instead of putting her down for her failures, he picked her up. And made her feel things she hadn’t before. Valued. Protected. Desirable.
Maybe Ty Orland was nothing more than a shrewd businessman and a skilled actor. But she could hope he really was as perfect as he seemed.
Yes, a smart businesswoman would be cautious around him. If only he didn’t have a devastatingly sexy smile.
~ ~ ~
Ty grabbed a second fluted glass of champagne off of a server’s tray so quickly he doubted the young man even noticed.
“Here, have another,” he said, offering the glass to Cat.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk,” she said, laughing.
“Maybe. Later on though.” He felt a grin spread across his face.
Cat was cute. Very cute. And very accurate. He ignored the little flare up of guilt pitting
his stomach. All is fair in love and war. Which of these two situations he was in, however, he no longer knew. If he were smart, “business” would win out. He purposely didn’t tell her he might have made a bonehead budgeting move himself—buying land only to find out he couldn’t get it developed. Nor did he tell her he was completely at her mercy because of it.
He started wondering, however, if “love” would win out when he watched her take a long sip. And was absolutely positive of the outcome when she licked a drop of alcohol from her lips.
He bit the inside of his mouth to shake himself out of his Siren induced trance. “You’re not Greek, are you?” he heard himself say suddenly. Damn. He really had to keep his thoughts to himself.
“No. Why? Do I look like Aphrodite?”
Ignoring her laughter, he answered her in a tone deadly serious. “Yes.”
Cat paused but quickly recovered, obviously refusing to take him seriously. “How would you know?” she quipped. “Have you and the goddess met?” He noticed that whenever she was teasing him, her eyes gleamed impishly.
“I’ve seen many pictures of her in Athens’ best museums. Next time I go to Greece, I’ll take you with me, so you can become acquainted with her, too.” His thoughts briefly flashed to a picture of the two of them in Greece. Her loose, blond hair blowing prettily around her face, tendrils dancing from the sea breeze coming off the Mediterranean. If they were out on his yacht, she’d become more acquainted with him than a bunch of paintings in a museum. Hopefully, real acquainted.
His comment must have hit home. Cat stopped speaking altogether, her mouth agape. “Really? Greece? It does sound exciting. But we hardly know each other,” she protested. Still, there was that sparkle in her eyes, showing her pleasure at being asked.
