Chapter 12
Maybe Eric had misunderstood the assignment, but he was dressed far more casually than she had expected, dressed as he was in chinos and a white business shirt that had a couple of buttons undone, with his shirtsleeves rolled up.
“Hi.” She winced. That didn’t sound very professional. She held out her hand. “Thank you for being flexible with the arrangements today.”
“Of course.” He shook her hand, his large grip enveloping hers. There was so much of him, so little of her. It felt strange, almost like he swamped her. Overwhelmed her.
She released his hand, conscious that people were looking at them. “So, did you want to meet somewhere nearby?”
“I wondered about the golf club. That’s not too far.”
The only golf club she knew around here was Royal Sydney Golf Club.
People had to be a member to go there. Which he probably was.
He probably definitely was. But a golf club gave images of tradition and staidness and old school tie connections that didn’t seem much like her.
It would likely further intimidate her, as if this man weren’t doing a good job of that already.
“Um …” Oh, she really had to stop saying that all the time. It made her sound so insecure. “If it’s all the same with you, I’d rather chat in a little more informal setting.”
“Sure,” he agreed easily. Then gestured to the nearby restaurant. “Would you like to try there?”
She blinked. Catalina was another of those five-star places she’d longed to try. But it screamed fancy occasion, not business meeting. “I thought this was just coffee.”
“They serve good coffee, if I recall correctly.”
She bit her lip, certain that whatever coffee they served was bound to be more expensive than what she’d imagined.
And given that she was trying to make a good impression on him, it would be up to her to pick up the tab.
That’s how proposals like this worked. Schmoozing was all about wining and dining, helping people see why they needed them.
And while she hadn’t had to pay at the Darling Harbour bistro—thank goodness—she fully expected to do so today.
Still, going there would be better than keeping him waiting even longer.
And if she was only paying for Eric and herself, and not three or four others, then maybe Dream Match could afford it.
Still, “Would they have room? It doesn’t seem like the kind of place that accepts walk-ins. ”
He smiled. “I think you’ll find they make an exception for me.”
Oh, to be so self-assured. But then, that’s what money did. It opened doors—and secured tables—that ordinary mortals would never experience. “Fine.”
Five minutes later, after Eric was recognised by the restaurant manager, they were taken to a freshly prepared table near a window that overlooked where the seaplanes were berthed.
On the hill, turrets and towers spoke of exclusive private schools for the rich who lived in the fancy multistorey houses with views of the harbour.
She peeked around. Some of those houses probably belonged to the restaurant patrons here.
She didn’t want to appear full of shiny-eyed wonder, but it felt a little surreal to be surrounded by such luxury.
“Can I get you something to drink?” their waiter asked.
She gestured to Eric, as she was the host, but he smiled and shook his head. “Ladies first.”
In that case, she was sticking to her guns. “I’d like a large skinny cappuccino, please.”
Eric’s brows rose, as if mildly surprised. “I’ll have a short black.”
“At this time of day?” she asked. “Doesn’t it affect your sleep?”
“I’ve learned to enjoy my caffeine whenever I can get it.”
Probably the legacy of all his trips to Europe that regularly saw him photographed and featured in women’s magazines.
She dragged her gaze from the window and looked at him. “Well, I’m sorry again for the change of plans.”
He shook his head. “Things happen. I understand.”
“Then shall we begin?”
His head tilted, a small smile playing about his mouth, as if he was amused.
Defensiveness rose, but she didn’t want to let him see that his mannerisms affected her, so she smoothed out her prospectus.
“I see you’ve come prepared.” He gestured to her documents.
She inclined her chin. “As I said last time, Dream Match is ready to scale up, and we are looking for more investors who are willing to believe with us and take this to the next level.”
Their coffees were served, the waiter asking if there was anything else they needed, which they declined.
Eric listened intently, asking several questions that showed he’d been paying attention, and she gradually relaxed.
This was a business meeting, and he was being professional, and so was she.
In fact, far from being under the microscope of lots of onlookers, after the first few moments of people’s interest, nobody else seemed to be paying them attention anymore, which suited her just fine.
She was able to clearly and coherently answer his questions, including the ones about the Christian elements he’d objected to before, and she hoped it made sense.
“Are there any other questions?” she asked.
A seaplane approached, and she joined him in watching it land. Then his attention returned to her. “You’ve explained everything beautifully.”
Oh. “Then you don’t have anything else you want to know?”
“Actually …”
Her stomach tensed as his gaze grew intent.
“Are you hungry?”
The abrupt subject change made her blink. “Um, I could eat something. But it’s getting late.” Already the sun was sinking, stretching dark blue shadows across the water. She straightened her documents. “And I know you’re a busy man, so I should let you get on with the rest of your day.”
“EJ, I cleared my schedule for this meeting.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did. I wasn’t sure how long it would go for, especially with so many of you.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that—”
“Please, no apologies necessary. It’s been good to have the chance to get to talk directly to you. Especially as you are the main innovator of Dream Match.”
“I, er, yes.” Ugh. She really needed to work on the silly little expressions that leaked. That wasn’t exactly selling confidence and professionalism.
“I’m hungry,” he said, glancing around.
A moment later, a waiter appeared. “Yes, Mr. Churchill? Is there anything I can do?”
“We’re hungry. I missed lunch. I don’t suppose Chef has anything that we can eat?”
EJ snickered, and he glanced at her. “Imagine a restaurant having food to eat.”
Eric’s lips arced on his handsome face. When he showed genuine amusement, and not like he was sneering at the world, he possessed a charm that made her heart skip a beat.
“Would you care for a dinner meal, or something less substantial?” the waiter asked.
Eric glanced at her. “Did you have dinner plans tonight?”
Apart from a microwave meal for one, “No.” Wait, was he asking her to have dinner with him? That wasn’t a good idea. Was it?
He turned back to the waiter. “Then I think an early dinner would be good.”
“Does madam have any allergies?”
“No.” But before she could say she didn’t think she should dine with him, she heard herself saying, “I’m happy with anything.”
“As am I.” Eric glanced at her again. “Do you wish to see a menu, or do you want to live dangerously?”
She eyed him. It didn’t seem like they were talking about just a meal anymore. She swallowed. “How dangerous are we talking?”
“Do you trust me?”
No. She barely knew him. She made a noncommittal noise, which seemed to satisfy him as he turned to the waiter. “Then ask Chef if he could give us two of today’s specials.”
“You don’t wish to know what they are?”
“You heard the lady. She’s happy to live dangerously. And so am I.”
She clasped her fingers on her lap, as anticipation whirled around.
Okay, while she might’ve enjoyed perusing a menu, there was something rather audacious about ordering two specials, sight unseen.
Was this how the super-rich lived, not caring about what normal people did?
She supposed if Eric didn’t like it, then he could just order something else, and it would be whipped up in a hurry.
That was the kind of man Eric Churchill was.
People wanted to please him. Heaven knew how much this would cost.
“So, is this okay?” he asked, once the waiter had left.
She glanced around. The setting sun glimmered golden light on the water, the restaurant’s candles were being lit, and their little private table suddenly seemed a lot more romantic than it had two hours ago.
She nodded. “I can’t believe we’ve been talking for two hours.”
“You’re very easy to talk to,” he said.
And despite him being a rich man, she felt the same. Shyness washed over her, and she glanced away. Saw people looking at Eric, looking at her. And she suddenly realised what this would look like. Uh oh.
She straightened in her leather chair. “So, I’m just checking. Us being here together isn’t going to cause a problem for anyone, is it?”
He thanked the waiter who placed slices of bread on their side plates. “In what way?”
“I mean, this looks like we’re out on a date.”
He nodded, buttering his bread. “It probably does.”
“But … but that isn’t going to be a problem for someone? You don’t have a secret girlfriend that nobody knows about, do you?”
His eyes flickered. “I think as far as everyone is concerned, they’d be seeing you and thinking the same.”
She choked on the piece of bread she was chewing. “But I don’t.”
His carefully sculpted eyebrows rose. “You and Jordan are not together, then?”
“No. We’re best friends, more like brother and sister than anything.”
He studied her. “Then if two consenting adults choose to eat together, who can have a problem with that?”
She swallowed. She certainly hoped he didn’t mean “consenting” in the way most people did these days. “Just to be clear, I’m not consenting to anything more than a meal.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I do like how you say things like that.”
Indignation flared. “Are you patronising me?”