He let it go, said, ‘I didn’t ask if you were free this evening.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘Are you?’
There were two possible answers to that question.
One…She could tell him that she had to work and then waste the evening pointlessly stressing over the last minute details of the HOTfood party even though she knew there was nothing left to do, or…
Two…‘No, Max. I’m not free. I’m having a working supper with the new head of the Valentine empire. Unless you’ve got something more interesting planned?’
His response was a sudden smile that involved every part of his face, deepening the creases that bracketed his mouth, lighting up his eyes in a way that almost impossibly intensified the blue. The kind that took time, that she hadn’t seen in years.
‘I can’t think of anything more interesting than that,’ he said and she was forced to bludgeon down the heart leap, the foolish warmth at his admission that being with her would be a pleasure rather than a pain.
‘Interesting’ was what he’d actually said.
In some cultures ‘interesting’ was a curse…
‘If that’s your measure of interesting, Max,’ she replied, ‘you need to put some serious thought into getting a life.’
He looked as if he was about to say something. He clearly thought better of it, because instead he shrugged, said, ‘This is my life.’
He’d got that right, anyway. The restaurants, the people who worked for them; he’d strived for success not just for himself, the family, but because he knew that it was the men and women who worked for them who would suffer most if things went wrong.
He’d only fired her, she realised, because her volatility when she was around him threatened that success…
‘Come on, let’s get started,’ he said, ignoring the lift in favour of the stairs. ‘I’ve been thinking about some of your ideas.’
‘Which ones?’ she asked, taking them rather more sedately in her high heels and narrow skirt.
‘All of them, but especially Meridia. I really think you’re on to something so I sent Emma an email and asked her to look out for likely locations.’
‘Your sister doesn’t work for you any more, Max,’ she reminded him. ‘In fact I imagine being Queen of Meridia doesn’t leave her with too much spare time to spend running errands for you.’
‘You think?’
He stopped without warning, turned and, a step below him, she was suddenly cheek-to-chest close. Without thinking she swayed back to avoid touching him, just as she always had, just as he always had, but now he put out a hand to grab her, steady her as she took a step back. Save her from a fall. Keep her close.
‘If we’re not cousins,’ he’d said, ‘we don’t have a problem…’
Not for him, maybe, but it was as if that moment when he’d come close to kissing her had intensified her response to him. Even through her coat, the sleeve of her suit, his hand was applying heat to a square of skin just above her elbow that spread like wildfire to every part of her body.
Just the simple act of breathing became suddenly more difficult.
Yes…
The word whispered through her mind, silken temptation.
This was what you wanted. Max at your feet. Max in your bed…
‘Yes,’ she said. Then, when he waited for her to elaborate. ‘I do think.’
‘Well, never mind,’ he said, with a tormenting smile that she knew only too well, ‘I’ve got you for that now.’
Got her? To run his errands? Was that what he thought? Not even close…
‘You think?’ she enquired, throwing his words back at him as the heat intensified to a dangerous calm. She knew this feeling, recognised this, welcomed it even; the motorway sign was flashing an urgent warning ‘SLOW-ACCIDENT AHEAD’ but, just as she always had, she ignored it.
‘What are you looking for?’ Max asked as she cast about her before fixing her gaze on the vast arrangement of flowers on the half landing where the staircase split into two and curved away on either side.
She blinked, collected herself, swallowed.
What was she thinking? She was grown up, an in-demand consultant, not some stupid girl with a crush.
Get a grip. He was just teasing.
There had been a time when his teasing had made her insides curl up in a paroxysm of pleasure that this godlike figure had noticed her.
A lifetime ago.
Then there had come a time when it had just made her mad.
Now…
‘A vase,’ she said. ‘If you think I’m interested in running your errands, Max, you obviously need a large dose of cold water.’
For a moment he just stood there and she knew, just knew, that it was going to be a rerun of the last time they’d worked together; he said something dumb, she responded like an outraged cat, spitting and arching her back, then he blew up.
And she felt nothing but regret.
‘Since your aim is as bad as your timing,’ he said, after a monumental pause that had probably been no more than a heartbeat but which had seemed to stretch for a hundred years, ‘maybe we should take the cold shower as read.’
Her timing?
‘My timing is off? I like that! You were the one who couldn’t wait. One kiss, a token, how hard could that be?’
No! No…Do not remind him of that foolishness…
‘My mistake. Just tell me when and we’ll seal the contract.’
Tell him it was a joke. That you didn’t mean it…
Now!
But her gaze was riveted to his mouth, her own lips burning with a lifetime of unrequited longing, of denial, and with her breath caught in her throat she was unable to speak.
‘Your call,’ he prompted, clearly in no hurry.
It was enough to break the spell. With extreme care, she said, ‘Thanks. I’ll let you know.’
‘Any time,’ he said, then turned away before she could respond, taking the rest of the stairs in a couple of strides.
By the time she’d caught up with him on the top floor where the offices were situated she’d recovered her composure, had reminded herself that this was supposed to be a working supper. Posted a mental note to keep a curb on her tongue.
It would probably get easier with practice.
In the meantime, Meridia.
‘Are you-we-doing the catering for this big gala dinner and ball Emma is throwing to launch her “Queen’s Charity”?’ she asked, focussing on business.
‘I’m signing the contract on Monday. Do you want to come?’
‘To the ball?’
Was he asking her…?
‘I imagine Emma will want you there.’ Then, as she hesitated, ‘She adores you, Louise.’ Oh, right, just more propaganda on behalf of the family.
‘Of course I’ll go,’ she said. ‘Who in their right mind would give up a chance to buy a new dress?’
Most people would have taken her response at face value. The look Max gave her suggested that he was not so easily fooled.
‘All right, Max. I’ll be there for her.’
Just for Emma.
After a moment he nodded, accepting that she was sincere. It was frightening how easily he could read her.
‘Good. But I was asking if you want to come with me to Meridia on Monday.’
‘Oh, I see.’
It was unnerving how much she’d wanted him to be asking her to the ball as his partner. Still sixteen and waiting for her prom night Prince Charming. Still yearning to feel his arms around her. Instead she got a business meeting…
‘Well, it would be useful.’ Then, forcing herself to keep to the point, ‘Actually, since we’re doing the catering I’d like to discuss the possibility of a behind-the-scenes-in-the-palace-kitchens feature with the royal PR people. The work involved in putting on a royal gala ball. If you’re serious about moving into Meridia-’
‘I’m serious. You’re right; it’s the obvious place to start.’