by Zee Monodee
Trent swept his gaze over her again and noticed the many earrings on her earlobes, and the diamond flashing on the side of her nose. “It’s a metal detector that’d take risks with you, with so many piercings.”
She huffed and clenched her jaw.
The movement offset the delicate line of her jaw and her cheekbones, and the anger in her dark, coffee-brown eyes made them sparkle—
“This is fashion, mate. You’re too old to understand.”
Really? She had to have another think coming.
“What I don’t understand is this,” he said. “Did they run out of fabric when they made your skirt?”
Her face went red. “You—”
“Daddy?”
The little voice brought him back to Earth, and he peered at his son.
Trent blinked. The boys stood in the parking lot while he and Diya were still in the opened lift, his foot blocking the door.
Stunned silence had descended onto the carriage, which jerked him out of the sparring verbal duel he’d engaged with his spunky neighbour. How to bring back some semblance of courtesy between them now?
He nodded outside. “After you.”
They locked eyes for a brief second, before she stormed out, ignoring his attempt at peace-making. He moved out of the way when it seemed like she’d grind her pointed heel into his shoe, and he watched with amusement in his heart while she stomped her feet repeatedly on the asphalt as she stalked towards her truck.
“Careful,” he said. “You might break a heel.”
She stopped in her tracks but ignored him as she pressed the button on her key ring to unlock her car.
Once at the Saab, he held the door open for his children to climb in.
“Bye, Mith Diya,” Josh said.
“Sweetie, can you do me a favour? Don’t call me Miss. It makes me feel like a dreary old spinster.”
“Okie.”
“Great. Have a nice day at school. I should get going, or I’m gonna be late.”
“Please don’t be,” Trent said. “We don’t want you to end up driving like a maniac on the road again.”
She slammed the door of her car in reply and stormed her massive vehicle out of its parking space.
Images of the encounter in the lift played in his mind again once she’d left the grounds, and a trickle of laughter flowed in his throat.
Giving in this time, he threw his head back and laughed.
Life would never be boring with her around.
***
Diya parked her Ranger in the lot of Palm Palace at exactly quarter to nine. The hotel, located in Flic en Flac, the tourist-spot coastal village right next to Tamarin, made the trip a short jump from her place.
But still, to make the journey in less than ten minutes in the morning represented a feat, one she didn’t really want to congratulate herself for. Trent’s last comment resonated in her head, and she gritted her teeth in annoyance
Because she had ended up driving like a maniac. Not because she was late, but thanks to that oaf’s irritating taunts.
Trent Garrison had the knack to throw her off track, and she hated the feeling. She’d always been able to use her pointed wit and razor-sharp tongue to get the upper hand in any situation, and to find he got the better of her annoyed her beyond the pale.
As she cut the engine, she took a deep breath and unclenched her fingers from the steering wheel. Smothering the irritating thought of her neighbour away in some corner of her brain, she made herself concentrate on the task at hand. She had a client to meet and needed to have her wits about her.
Her heart flipped. Gareth Clark. The sound of his smooth voice flowed in her head, and her knees went weak with the promise of meeting a man who had such a gorgeous voice.
Would his physical presence live up to the promise in his silky tone?
She climbed out of the truck and walked towards the reception area. She trained her attention over the place throughout the trip, and her professional’s eye started to pick out the little details in the decoration. Green and gold colour scheme, with palms on almost every surface.
Not very imaginative. Exactly what one would expect when they heard the name Palm Palace. No wonder the hotel owners wanted a whole new concept.
A profusion of ferns grew along the path leading to the reception, and the overstuffed furniture in the lobby came across as oppressive instead of welcoming. The windows sported heavy gold and green velvet curtains, held to the side by thick tiebacks with gold tassels.
She forced in a deep breath. The setting stifled the visitor. The opulence and richness only made the overwhelming sensation worse. No wonder the board had liked the minimalist scheme she and Ange had come up with. ALIDA’s proposal had suggested clean lines and a colour scheme of matte slate grey, gleaming chrome, Geranium red, and touches of deep moss green.
Fire versus ice. The concept had already seemed ambitious when they’d created the scheme, but from the actual appearance of the place, to pull it off would require a lot of effort.
Far from being discouraged by the sheer amount of work about to come their way, the elation of taking on such a project coursed through her veins, igniting her with an unhealthy desire to give it more than her best. She could see numerous evenings of frozen dinners in front of her, as well as sleepless nights to pull through the various stages of such a grand renovation and decoration venture.
At the front office desk, a smiling receptionist greeted her and then escorted her to a lounge area beside the large, rectangular swimming pool. Diya sat down and accepted the fruit juice cocktail a waiter brought her. She frowned while taking in the many tiers of colour in the glass. How did the barmen manage to make those unbelievable suspensions?
Taking a sip of the sweet drink, she scanned her surroundings and the garden the secluded lounge alcove opened upon. Green and gold, again. All the flowers in the garden were also of some shade of yellow.
They’d need to add the gardens to the renovation process. She sighed. A Herculean task—that’s what the project amounted to, and she wondered whether they’d have made a bid if they’d seen the place beforehand. The management had only provided a general idea how they wanted a clean break from the actual setting, without actually saying what the current location looked like. They’d worked with a blind premise all along, refusing to drop by for an impromptu visit to get a glimpse of the decor.
She took a quick peek at her watch. Five past nine. Their client was late, but she didn’t mind. He shouldn’t get here before Angélique made an appearance. Alone, she didn’t know where to start with explaining their project, and she stifled her discouragement when she caught sight of the tall, stunning brunette walking her way.
Ange is only five minutes late?
“How come you’re nearly on time?”
Angélique gave her a sly grin as she folded her very leggy body into a sofa. “Patrice woke me early.”
Diya laughed along with her friend. How funny they’d both chosen to wear blue. Ange had on a short, sleeveless linen dress, and its pale colour brought an ice-blue tint to her piercing grey eyes. Her long, straight mahogany hair hung loose, pulled from her wide forehead by a headband the same shade as her dress.
How come Ange had dressed with such a classical sense of elegance? Her outfits were usually even more outrageous than Diya’s. “Raided your mother’s closet again?”
“Yeah, couldn’t find anything decent—Jésus, Marie, Joseph!”
“What?”
Ange usually reserved the French expression for very unsettling instances.
When Angélique’s mouth formed a perfect O, and her gaze remained fixed on a distant point behind Diya’s back, she shuffled in her seat to see what had startled her friend.
Her own mouth dropped open, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head at the sight before her.
A few yards from them, a tall man had stopped on his way over to the alcove to speak to a waiter. A midnight-blue suit hugged his well-built, broad-shoul
dered body. His thick, wavy, honey-coloured hair brushed the collar of his crisp white shirt, and a classic, dark blue silk tie completed the outfit. His profile showed features that could’ve been carved out of smooth marble. What perfection would a full-frontal view carry?
“This is Gareth Clark?” Ange asked in an awed whisper.
As if he’d heard the query, the man glanced in their direction and gave an almost-imperceptible nod before resuming his discussion with the waiter.
“Looks like it,” Diya replied, mouth dry, and her focus never once leaving the handsome director’s face.
Both women ogled with unblinking googly eyes as he concluded his talk and walked in their direction with a confident step, his whole bearing regal with an air of dignity and pride.
If she knew she looked half as good as he did, she, too, would carry herself with such inherent panache.
As he approached, she could make out his face better. His eyes were quite large for a man, but they made a startling contrast against the perfection in his chiselled features. He had a square chin, which flowed into the strong face created by a wide forehead and a bold, square jaw. His aquiline nose had an aristocratic slant, and his thick, sandy eyebrows offset the deep blue of his eyes.
Diya had never seen eyes so blue before. The colour was even richer than the tropical sky on a clear, sunny winter day. His mouth boasted full and sensual lips.
He broke into a large smile as he approached them, and she had to gulp back the drool in her mouth. She heard Angélique do the same thing next to her.
“Good morning, ladies.” He extended a hand and shook Angélique’s first, then Diya’s. “I’m Gareth Clark. My apologies for the lateness. You haven’t been waiting too long, I hope?”
He settled in a seat opposite them.
Diya was the first to find her voice.
“No,” she croaked. “We just got here.”
“Very good.” He clapped his hands. “So, I guess you haven’t had time to look around. I’ll take you on a tour, then.”
“That would be lovely,” Angélique replied brightly.
Why does she sound like a proper little debutante now? Diya threw her a glance, but she had no time to follow on the query when Gareth stood, and they followed suit.
For the next hour, they toured the hotel, from the reception, to the rooms, the suites, master suites, the stand-alone villas, the restaurants, and the spa and gym. They concluded the visit by reaching the alcove lounge once again.
“So, what do you think?” the manager asked once they were all seated.
Diya glanced at Angélique, who glanced back with furrowed brows.
“You want our honest opinion, or do you want the feel-good one?” Ange asked.
He remained silent as he glanced back and forth between the two of them. “Honest.”
Ange nodded at her, and Diya jumped in. “There’s a lot of work. The scheme, set-up, layout. In short, everything.”
“Wow! This bad?”
“Well, it’s not so bad, but then, you wouldn’t have brought us in if you’d wanted to just change a few details,” Angélique ventured to say.
“Yes,” he replied with a chuckle. “The least that can be said is that your proposal wasn’t really, say, conventional. How long do you think it’ll take? The plans, the actual renovation? We need to have an estimate.”
Surprisingly, no dimples appeared in his perfect face when he smiled. Diya shook the disconcerting notion away.
“Well, for starters, we can give you the whole plan in four weeks. Since it can really be said we’re starting from scratch, it’ll be less complicated. For the actual works, I’d say a minimum of five months.”
“How long are you ready to give us?” Ange asked.
“We’re at the start of March right now,” he said. “We closed the bookings as from April first, and we won’t have them open until October. Which should give you roughly six months to work in.”
“That should do,” Angélique replied. “You got yourself a deal, Mr. Clark.”
When her cell phone rang, Ange excused herself to answer the call.
Left alone with the handsome general manager, Diya sat there at a loss for words. The man radiated such magnetism and raw sex appeal, her throat burned and her mouth went as dry as sandpaper.
“It’s really so bad, huh?” he said with a sweep of his hands.
“Actually, yes,” she replied after a small pause. “Mr. Clark, I’m sorry we’re so blunt—”
“Gareth. Call me Gareth.”
Diya froze as his deep-blue eyes bore into hers.
“May I call you Diya?”
She slowly nodded, still tongue-tied by the mesmerising intensity of his irises.
“Listen, Diya,” he said, before pausing.
She sat transfixed, hypnotised by the sound of her own name when he spoke it in his rich, deep voice.
“I’ll be blunt, too. I checked out your company when you sent in your proposal, and I have to admit I was very intrigued by all that is said about you.”
Her heart pounded, and all her senses picked up in a storm of awareness.
“I hope you heard only good things,” she murmured.
“Believe me, they don’t do you justice,” he replied in a low voice. “I’d actually love to get to know the person behind such a reputation.”
Goodness gracious, he was asking her out? Tingles shot along her spine, before her conscience intruded on the pleasurable feeling.
She would be working for him.
“Mr. Clark—”
“Gareth.”
“Gareth.” She paused to take a deep breath. “I’m flattered. Actually, I’m honoured you’d tell me all this. But I’m sorry. I’ll be working for you, and I don’t usually mix work and pleasure ...”
Upon the last word, a heated blush flamed upon her cheeks. To think of pleasure with a hunk like him …
“I understand,” he said after a few seconds.
A sharp note hung in his tone, and she squirmed.
“It’s just that, I don’t want people to think we won this contract because I’m going out with you,” she blurted out. “My company means the world to me.”
“I said I understood,” he replied, more gently this time. “I wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”
“Thank you.”
She peered into her lap. She didn’t like to have to fend people off, and needing to do so usually made her extremely uneasy. To think she’d have practice from all the breaking up she’d done in her life, but no, it didn’t come any easier.
“So, when can I start having my hopes up again?”
He still wanted to date her? She brought her head up, to stare him right in the eyes.
A small smile grazed his mouth and brought a roguish charm to his already picture-perfect features.
“In six months?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrow.
No kidding. He would actually wait for her. Was this man for real?
She gave him a slow grin. “Not that long. Let’s just say, as soon as the works are under way.”
“Five weeks, then? That should be the all-clear?”
“Yes.”
“I look forward to it.”
His voice had taken the same deep-timbered note he’d used during their phone conversation. He winked, and she lost herself in the blue depths—
“Sorry it took me so long.” Angélique settled on the sofa she’d vacated a little while earlier.
Her irruption broke the spell. Diya shrugged out of her sensual fog, and under Ange’s intense scrutiny, lost her voice yet again as heat suffused her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, but there’s another appointment I must attend to,” Gareth said. “It’s been a pleasure meeting with you. I hope this is the start of a very fruitful collaboration.”
“Same here, Mr. Clark,” Angélique replied.
“I’ll take your leave now.” He stood. “Mrs. Laroche.” He nodded in her direction. “Diya,” he sa
id as he angled his head towards her.
“Gareth,” she said with a soft nod.
He left them, and the burn of her friend’s eyes on her, scraping her raw with curiosity, made her squirm. “Ange, stop it.”
“Bon sang, Dee. I’m gone for barely five minutes, and you two are already on first-name basis?” Angélique gaped. “You didn’t waste time, or he didn’t?”
A sigh escaped her. No point hiding from her bestie. “He didn’t.”
“Lucky git. He’s a hunk.” A wink and a giggle accompanied the gushing statement.
“He asked me out. I told him to wait until we hand the proposal in.”
“And he agreed?”
“Yes.”
“He’s got it bad for you,” Angélique said with another giggle.
The burn from yet another flush stung her face. She hated blushing and such silly bimbo behaviour. “So, what’s your first impression?”
“He’s gorgeous.”
“Not him, silly. I meant the hotel.”
Angélique’s shoulders slumped. “Lots and lots of work.”
“I thought so, too.” She paused, deep in reflection. “I gotta tell you, I’ll be at the office more now. Can I please be allowed to move into the guest bedroom that’s close to the studio? Please pretty please? I don’t want to work from home so much any longer. Patrice won’t even know I’m there.”
Ange frowned. “Why? I thought you liked the peace at your flat.”
Diya threw her hands up. “Well, that’s just it. I don’t have peace there anymore. Every time I go out, I fear bumping into that oaf. He’s managed to rob me of my peace.”
“What, and who, are you talking about?”
Right—she hadn’t brought her friend up to speed on that man.
“Remember the idiot I had an accident with? Well, he’s my new next-door neighbour.”
“Ayo! Are you serious? What’s he like?”
Diya’s mouth twisted in a snarl as she thought of how best to describe the obnoxious Trent Garrison. “He’s a savage. Rude, with no consideration for others.”
“Is he single?”
“Goodness gracious, he’s got two young sons.”