Chapter Six #2
The three women got up from their seats as he approached.
Andie, tall and elegant in a deceptively simple caramel-coloured short dress—businesslike but with a snug fit that showed off her curves.
Her sensational legs seemed to go on for ever to end in sky-high leopard-skin-print stilettos.
He got it. She wanted to look businesslike but also let it be known who was the creative mind behind Party Queens. It worked.
Gemma—shorter, curvier, with auburn hair—and sophisticated, dark-haired Eliza were strikingly attractive too.
They had a glint in their eyes and humour in their smiles that made him believe they could enjoy a party as well as plan them.
But, in his eyes, Andie outshone them. Would any other woman ever be able to beat her?
It was disturbing that a woman who he had known for such a short time could have made such an impression on him.
He addressed all three, while being hyper aware of Andie as he did so.
Her hair pulled back in a loose knot that fell in soft tendrils around her face, her mouth slicked with coral gloss, those remarkable green eyes.
‘As I’m sure you’re aware,’ he began, ‘my marketing team is delighted at both the concept for the party and the way you plan to implement the concept to the timeline. They’re confident the event will meet and exceed the target we’ve set for reputation management and positive media engagement. ’
It sounded like jargon and he knew it. But how else could he translate the only real aim of the party: to make him look less the penny-pincher and more the philanthropist?
‘We’re very pleased to be working with such a professional team,’ said Eliza, the business brains of the partnership. But all three were business savvy in their own way, he’d realised through the meeting.
‘Thank you,’ he said. He glanced at his watch. ‘The meeting ran so late it’s almost lunchtime. I’m extending an invitation to lunch for all of you,’ he said. ‘Not that restaurants around here, excellent as they are, could match the standard of your cooking, Gemma.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gemma, looking pleased. ‘But I’m afraid I have an appointment elsewhere.’
‘Me too, and I’m running late,’ said Eliza. ‘But we couldn’t possibly let you lunch alone, Mr Hunt, could we, Andie?’
Andie flushed high on those elegant cheekbones. ‘Of course not. I’d be delighted to join Dominic for lunch.’
Her chin tilted upwards and he imagined her friends might later be berated for landing her in this on her own. Not that he minded. The other women were delightful, but lunch one-on-one with Andie was his preferred option.
‘There are a few details of the plan I need to finalise with Dominic anyway,’ she said to her friends.
Dominic shook hands with Gemma and Eliza and they headed towards the elevators. He turned to Andie. ‘Thank you for coming to lunch with me,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘Be warned, I’m starving. I was up at the crack of dawn finalising those mood boards for the presentation.’
‘They were brilliant. There’s only one thing I’d like to see changed. I didn’t want to mention it in the meeting as it’s my personal opinion and I didn’t want to have to debate it.’
She frowned, puzzled rather than worried, he thought. ‘Yes?’
He put his full authority behind his voice—he would not explain his reasons. Ever. ‘The Christmas tree. The big one you have planned for next to the staircase. I don’t want it.’
‘Sure,’ she said, obviously still puzzled.
‘I thought it would be wonderful to have the tree where it’s the first thing the guests see, but I totally understand if you don’t want it there.
We can put the Christmas tree elsewhere.
The living room. Even in the area near where we’ll be eating. Wherever you suggest.’
He hadn’t expected this to be easy—he knew everyone would expect to see a decorated tree on Christmas Day. ‘You misunderstood me. I mean I don’t want a Christmas tree anywhere. No tree at all in my house.’
She paused. He could almost see her internal debate reflected in the slight crease between her eyebrows, the barely visible pursing of her lips. But then she obviously thought it was not worth the battle. ‘Okay,’ she said with a shrug of her slender shoulders. ‘No tree.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, relieved he wasn’t going to have to further assert his authority.
At this time of year, Christmas trees were appearing all over the place.
He avoided them when he could. But he would never have a tree in his home—a constant reminder of the pain and loss and guilt associated with the festive season.
They walked together to the elevator. When it arrived, there were two other people in it.
They got out two floors below. Then Dominic was alone in the confined space of the elevator, aware of Andie’s closeness, her warm scent.
What was it? Sandalwood? Something exotic and sensual.
He had the craziest impulse to hold her closer so he could nuzzle into the softness of her throat, the better to breathe it in.
He clenched his fists beside him and moved as far as he could away from her so his shoulder hit the wall of the elevator. That would be insanity. And probably not the best timing when he’d just quashed her Christmas tree display.
But she wouldn’t be Andie if she didn’t persevere. ‘Not even miniature trees on the lunch table?’ she asked.
‘No trees,’ he said.
She sighed. ‘Okay, the client has spoken. No Christmas tree.’
The elevator came to the ground floor. He lightly placed his hand at the small of her back to steer her in the direction of the best exit for the restaurant. Bad idea. Touching Andie even in this casual manner just made him want to touch her more.
‘But you’re happy with the rest of the plan?’ she said as they walked side by side towards the restaurant, dodging the busy Sydney lunchtime crush as they did.
‘Very happy. Except you can totally discard the marketing director’s suggestion I dress up as Santa Claus.’
She laughed. ‘Did you notice I wrote it down but didn’t take the suggestion any further?’ Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down in mock inspection. ‘Though it’s actually a nice idea. If you change your mind—’
‘No,’ he said.
‘That’s what I thought,’ she said, that delightful smile dancing around the corners of her mouth.
‘You know it’s been a stretch for me to agree to a Christmas party at all. You won’t ever see me as Santa.’
‘What if the marketing director himself could be convinced to play Santa Claus?’ she said thoughtfully. ‘He volunteered to help out on the day.’
‘This whole party thing was Rob Cratchit’s idea so that might be most appropriate. Take it as an order from his boss.’
‘I’ll send him an email and say it’s your suggestion,’ she said with a wicked grin. ‘He’s quite well padded and would make a wonderful Santa—no pillow down the front of his jacket required.’
‘Don’t mention that in the email or all hell will break loose,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry; I can be subtle when I want to,’ she said, that grin still dancing in her eyes as they neared the restaurant.
In Dominic’s experience, some restaurants were sited well and had a good fit-out; others had excellent food. In this case, his favourite place to eat near the office had both—a spectacular site on the top of a heritage listed building right near the water and a superlative menu.
There had been no need to book—a table was always there for him when he wanted one, no matter how long the waiting list for bookings.
An attentive waiter settled Andie into a seat facing the view of Sydney Harbour. ‘I’ve always wanted to eat at this restaurant,’ she said, looking around her.
‘Maybe we should have our meetings here in future?’
‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘Though I’ll have to do a detailed site inspection of your house very soon. We could fit in a meeting then, perhaps?’
‘I might not be able to be there,’ he said. ‘I have a series of appointments in other states over the next two weeks. Any meetings with you might have to be via the Internet.’
Was that disappointment he saw cloud her eyes. ‘That’s a shame. I—’
‘My assistant will help you with access and the security code,’ he said.
He wished he could cancel some of the meetings, but that was not possible.
Perhaps it was for the best. The more time he spent with Andie, the more he wanted to break his rules and ask her on a date.
But those rules were there for good reason.
‘As you know, we have a tight timeline to work to,’ she said. ‘The more we get done early the better, to allow for the inevitable last-minute dramas.’
‘I have every confidence in you that it will go to plan.’
‘Me too,’ she said with another of those endearing grins. ‘I’ve organised so many Christmas room sets and table settings for magazine and advertising clients. You have to get creative to come up with something different each year. This is easier in a way.’
‘But surely there must be a continuity?’ he asked, curious even though Christmas was his least favourite topic of conversation.
‘Some people don’t want to go past traditional red and green and that’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’ve done an entire room themed purple and the client was delighted. Silver and gold is always popular in Australia, when Christmas is likely to be sweltering—it seems to feel cooler somehow. But—’
The waiter came to take their orders. They’d been too busy talking to look at the menu.
Quickly they discussed their favourites before they ordered: barramundi with prawns and asparagus for him; tandoori roasted ocean trout with cucumber salsa for her and an heirloom tomato salad to share.
They each passed on wine and chose mineral water.
‘Because it’s a working day,’ they both said at the exact time and laughed.
It felt like a date. He could not let his thoughts stray that way. Because he liked the idea too much.