6. Ivy
6
IVY
W ith the task of hosting a few different parties in this very same ballroom, I set out today to get every single measurement I could think of. The hotel staff were very helpful too, offering me step ladders and assisting me when needed. Kevin couldn't help me this afternoon since Mike needed him, and my sister Mimi, who often stepped in to help me, had other plans too.
I stood in the center of the ballroom imagining a large ball dangling from the center with a table beneath it covered in food. At its center, a chocolate fountain would be the highlight of the Valentine's gala, but for the company Christmas gathering next month, it would be the stage where the dais would be raised and Mr. Carver's podium would stand, where he would address his staff.
As I stepped back and closed my eyes to picture everything in my head, I heard a noise behind me. It startled me, and I pressed my hand to my chest and turned to see the hotel manager bringing a steaming cup of some sort of drink toward me.
"Ms. Hart, I thought you could use a cup of coffee." She glanced around the ballroom. I hadn't done much but take measurements and mark them down on my notebook, but she glanced down at me and smiled. "Is the space everything you thought it would be?"
I took the cup of coffee from her and nodded. It smelled heavenly, and it was exactly what I needed. "Actually, it's better than I thought. These high ceilings will be great for the lighting I plan to hang…" I thought about it for a second. "Do you have a scissor lift my team can use?" I used the word "team" as if I had a team. Right now it was just me and Kevin, though to pull this off, I really would have to hire a crew.
"Of course we do. Our maintenance team uses one to change lightbulbs." She looked up at the ceiling and frowned. "Like that one that's out. I'll have them ensure all of our lighting is working properly for you ASAP." Her soft smile returned as she looked back at my face. "Have you gotten all your measurements?" Her eyes flicked to my notebook, and I held it up.
"All written down right here."
"It's so refreshing to see that some people still respect paper and pencil." Her chuckle made me laugh too.
"Believe me, this is all going into my laptop when I get back to the Carver estate." I thought of James and dinner last week when I flirted with him. It was the last dinner I shared with him before he went out of town on a quick business trip. I felt like a fool, and I knew the only reason I flirted was because I'd been drinking. But he was a handsome man, and any woman in my position would have been tempted.
"Good, well I hope you are able to get everything you need. If you have any questions or need anything, just stop by the front desk." She smiled and bowed from the shoulders and backed away. I watched her walk across the ballroom in the opposite direction from which she'd come and thought about how attentive the staff was being. I knew my name didn't bring any prestige or attention, but dropping Mr. Carver's name seemed to make things happen.
The coffee was hot and my mind was still whirring with ideas. I set the cup and my notebook down and walked back to the center of the room, starting to completely rethink my idea. A chocolate fountain would be amazing, but what was more iconic at a masquerade ball than to have a dance? I twirled around and pressed my hands together over my chest and smiled. It was exactly what we needed. Though, this carpeted floor had to go.
I could have a wood floor installed over top of the carpet for dancing, and I could hire an orchestra to come and play live music. If I gave it a very vintage French Victorian feel, James's gala would be the talk of the town, and that was exactly what I needed—both for him and for me. This ball could very well be the thing that catapulted my new party planning business into success. I would meet and rub elbows with as many of his friends and associates as possible, and I was sure if I asked him, he'd put in a good word.
The grin that crept over my face couldn't be stopped. But when I heard someone clear their throat, I startled again. My heart raced as I turned thinking I'd see another member of hotel staff, but instead it was James. He stood in the doorway staring at me with a look of enjoyment.
"Mr. Carver…" I felt instantly ashamed and wondered if he'd seen me do that little spin of excitement. "What are you doing here?" I hadn’t given him my itinerary, nor had I told him where I'd be. He was still out of town as of this morning when I left the house, so I was shocked to see him here.
"Ms. Hart," he said, nodding at me. His charming smile made me blush again. I hated that. Any time I felt even slightly attracted to him, my damn face lit up like Rudolph's nose. "I stopped by your workspace at the house and you weren't there. I hope you don't mind. I checked your schedule and saw you'd be here."
He walked into the ballroom and up to the table I was using as my makeshift desk. My coffee sat there with my notebook and a dozen or so scrawlings I'd have to change now that I decided to nix the chocolate fountain focal point and replace it with a dance floor.
"Of course not. Do you need something?" I asked, feeling nervous. My body felt like I'd drunk too much coffee when I'd barely had a sip. Being near him made me feel jittery. I shouldn't have been attracted to him, but there was no point in denying the truth. He was hot, and I liked that he gave me attention and praise. Maybe I was stupid for deceiving myself that it was personal and not just business, but I was on the rebound.
"I'm just checking in…" His eyes scanned the ballroom the same way the hotel manager's had moments ago. "I saw you dancing. Are you a good dancer?" His question made a lump form in my throat.
"Uh, that was more of a celebratory twirl because I got a great idea. I'm not a dancer." My cheeks burned hotter than the surface of the sun as I looked down at my notebook and tried to keep my eyes from catching his gaze. I thought he hadn’t seen that. I felt so embarrassed.
"But there will be dancing, right?" he asked. "At the gala, I mean. We always have a few dances at my parties."
I wasn't sure if he was just saying that, but my shoulders tightened as I lifted my head. I was glad my brain had given me that ah-ha moment. "Of course. I was just envisioning a dance floor," I told him as he walked away.
James moved toward the center of the room where I'd done my spin, and he stood there looking down at his phone. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he looked up at the ceiling then at me. "Right here? A dance floor?"
"Well, yes…" I fumbled for words as he looked back down at his phone as it started playing music. He turned it up, then slid it into his pocket and held his arm out toward me.
"Join me. I'm assuming you know how to dance if a man leads."
Nervous jitters washed down my body, and I pressed my lips into a line. He was asking me to dance with him now? As if testing out an imaginary dancefloor right here and now.
I walked toward him and took his hand, and he pulled me against his chest in one tug. One of my hands rested on his shoulder while he held the other in the air, and I was swept away. The music floated through the air, loud enough for us to hear but not loud enough to be heard outside the room, and he spun me around effortlessly. I barely had to do anything but keep in step with him.
James's eyes were locked on mine, and I couldn’t look away, even as he spun and moved me. His body felt good against mine too. We gelled like seasoned partners who knew each other's steps so well they could do it blindfolded, and then he spoke.
"You know, I'll have a dance at each event that I will need a partner for. Since… well, you know. Since I’m single now, I would think any number of women would be able to fill that spot on my dance card, but I'm not really looking to be acquainted with anyone so soon." He looked thoughtful. "Would you, perhaps, mind being my dance partner those evenings? You know, just so I have someone to dance with."
I knew I had flirted with him openly that night, even asking him to touch me, but this was next-level. Both of us were stone-cold sober and we were in a ballroom dancing in each other’s arms. It was romantic and poetic and I was an idiot, but I really wanted to say yes.
But I didn't. At least not at first.
"Mr. Carver?—"
"James," he said, cutting me off.
"James, your wife just left you. I just got dumped. I think…" I bit my lip and tried so hard to pull my eyes away, but I couldn't.
"One dance, each night. You'll be there anyway to make sure things go smoothly, right?" He wasn't looking hopeful. He was staring at me like I was his prey, and I wanted so badly to be devoured.
"Yes."
"Yes, you'll be there or yes, you'll dance with me?" Now he was smirking, looking satisfied that he'd trapped me.
I almost grumbled, but I held it back. A hot, wealthy man was asking me to dance with him at his party. What was wrong with me?
"Of course I will." I smiled, and as soon as the words were out of my mouth, he stepped back and bowed at the waist, then straightened.
"Good day, Ms. Hart. I'll see you for dinner."
James walked away with his chin held high and the music still lofting through the air, and I swooned at how romantic he was. My God, I'd have given anything for him to have been the man of my dreams, but that was all he could be. He was just a dream. A man that wealthy and esteemed—not to mention that much older than me—would never actually look my way.
If James Carver wanted something from me, it was simply to plan his parties and make him look good, nothing more. I had to keep my head out of the clouds or I was going to get my heart broken.