by Dara Girard
She sighed resigned. Since he wasn’t going anywhere and his broad, erect posture stood out among the crush of people hurrying back and forth, she took a moment to watch how he walked. He didn’t just walk, he moved. His causal gait propelled him forward with a masculine grace she’d rarely seen. Even when she wanted to look away, her gaze kept returning to him as if it almost demanded her to.
She’d been studying him with such intent that it took her a few moments to realize that he’d arrived at his destination when she followed him through the glass doors to one of the elevators.
She paused and hastily raced out of the building. What was wrong with her? At least he hadn’t turned around and seen her. That would have been embarrassing. She gripped her chest and took a deep breath. Now that he was gone she could focus. First she had to figure out where she was. She looked up at the street address on the side of the building.
Wait. This was her building. The building where she was supposed to have the meeting. What were the odds? Corinne paused and checked the address just to make sure. There were a number of offices inside. It was probably just an awful coincidence. When she stepped inside she was relieved to see that the man was nowhere in sight.
No, it was impossible. It couldn’t be him.
She laughed at her foolishness. That would be a nightmare and Vivian had told her that he wasn’t scary. That his employees liked him. No one could like that bastard.
Corinne took the elevator and walked into the conference room ready to take charge. She paused when she saw three figures. Two women and a man.
A Neanderthal dressed in an ice blue suit, black turtleneck with a cold, knowing, superior grin.
She turned and saw Vivian. She couldn’t return Vivian’s encouraging smile. Because if Vivian was there that meant this wasn’t a mistake. No, this wasn’t a horrible mistake. It was a nightmare come to life.
Corinne swallowed and said in a low, choked voice. “Excuse me one moment please.”
She dashed out of the room, into the nearest ladies room, then ran into one of the stalls and locked it.
Deep breaths. She had to take deep breaths. Bursting into tears would be ridiculous and screaming even more so.
She heard the door open and the hurried clicking of high heels.
“Corinne?” Vivian said. “Are you okay?”
No. “I will be in a minute.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I just...I’m fine. I didn’t expect there to be two other people.”
“They’re just assistants. He’s the only one you need to impress.”
Which was the problem. “I’ll be right there.”
“Everything is going to be okay. You’re going to do great.”
Corinne briefly closed her eyes, her head suddenly spinning. “Hmm.” She heard Vivian walk away and the swinging of the door as it opened and closed.
How could everything be okay? How was she supposed to win him over? That was impossible. He probably thought she was mentally unstable. There was no way he’d give his business to her. But she had to try. If he was going to reject her she hoped it would be mercifully quick. He wasn’t one to waste time so that might work in her favor.
Corinne left the stall, washed her hands and returned to the conference room. He’d probably indulge her for several minutes and then cut her off and tell her that he’d get back to her. She was fine with that.
“It’s a pleasure to have you here Ms. Baylor,” the woman to his right said. “You come highly recommended.”
Corinne smiled. She wouldn’t let Vivian down. “Thank you. The pleasure is all mine.”
She saw him slowly blink. Whether from amusement or boredom she couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. She knew he’d already made up his mind. He wouldn’t hire her, he expected her to fail. He already looked disinterested and she hadn’t even started. She hadn’t even… but she wouldn’t be intimidated. No, she wouldn’t back down. “Hello, my name is Corinne Baylor from Baylor Events and—”
“Stop.”
She stared at him. Did he just tell her to stop? “I’m sorry?”
“I said stop.”
He wasn’t even going to give her a chance to speak? He didn’t even have the decency to give her a chance after she’d come all this way? “If you’ll let me—”
He made a dismissive wave of his hand. “Are you allergic to cats?”
“No.”
“You’re hired.” He rested his chin in his hand. “Now that you don’t have to try and impress anyone, I want to know what you can do for me.”
Hired? Did he say she was hired? Corinne turned to Vivian who just shrugged then motioned for her to continue.
“Well, do you have a particular venue in mind?”
He slowly blinked, displaying that strange disinterested expression again. She assumed that wasn’t a good sign.
“Because if you don’t,” she quickly continued to fill the sudden silence, “I’d suggest the Cameron Mansion. After dwindling business for years they’re now under new management and eager for business so I’d easily be able to reserve space for you.”
“A mansion? Why not a hotel or a conference center?”
“I think the atmosphere of a mansion will further drive home your message of wealth building. That’s the focus of the seminar?” she said, her voice lifting up in a question uncertain if she’d come to the right conclusion.
He blinked. “Is that a question or a statement?”
She cleared her throat. “You’re right. First we need to establish what you want to achieve. Do you want a seminar or workshop?”
He paused and she sensed him studying her, but couldn’t guess what he saw, she only hoped to look professional instead of terrified. “What are the differences?” he finally said.
It was a sound question and an easy one to answer. “A seminar is primarily lecture based with limited interaction with the audience except for perhaps a question and answer session at the end. However, with a seminar you can have a lot of participants, say one hundred or more. A workshop, on the other hand, is more interactive with a smaller audience size. It allows for a more personalized approach where one or more instructors gives demonstrations on a particular topic that participants can try on site.”
He rubbed his chin. “Knowing my topic what would you suggest?”
Corinne paused, surprised that he’d ask for her opinion. Vivian had sent her a brief outline prior to their meeting and he seemed to have a lot of ideas. She’d pictured him as the kind of person who would make up his mind and ignore other’s advice. “A workshop. You run a large operation but don’t have hundreds of employees, plus I feel that participants would learn more from a hands-on approach. Such as having a participatory experience where they calculate the possible return on investment on a made-up venture or participating in an exercise that shows them how to make the most of various assets rather than being lectured to on the importance of them. A workshop would also suit the mansion setting even better.
“Since this will be an aspirational workshop I think getting the attendees in the right mood is essential. They should feel that wealth can be theirs, experience how good it feels to be surrounded by elegance and beautiful things. I believe the location will help them to remember all that you and your speakers will be sharing with them.”
He nodded. “I like the workshop idea, but I may not be able to convince some speakers to attend a small workshop. They may be more impressed by a large number.”
“If the speaker is more interested in the number of attendees rather than the interest of the participants I’m not sure they’re the right speaker for your event. Or rather, the objective of your event. You’re not asking them to come for free so they’ll be compensated. Also, if there are scheduling issues with someone in another state or country, videoconferencing is an excellent choice so don’t limit your options.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“I know of an excellent A/V person. I’ll review your notes furth
er. I already have an idea that the event should mimic a real financial portfolio—letting people understand how their money can work for them.”
“You’ll get the final notes by the end of the week.” He stood. “There are several things I wish to discuss with you at a later date. Do you have anything planned this time next Tuesday?”
“No.”
“Great. I’ll contact you with more of the particulars.” He shook her hand. “Thank you.”
He turned and left. Her palm burned from his touch. But instead of inspiring thoughts of purgatory, the heat he’d inspired reminded her of the heat from a fireplace on a cold night, hot wax drizzled on a bare chest...which was completely inappropriate. Once Brett and his two assistants were gone, Vivian rushed up to her and hugged her.
“You did it! I’ve never seen him so amenable. Great job.”
Corinne absently hugged her back, trying to recover. She couldn’t believe the meeting had gone so well. “I don’t know what I did.”
“Whatever it was, keep it up. I’ve never seen him like this. I just knew you were the right one for him.”
“You mean for the event.”
Vivian only smiled.
Chapter Fifteen
He was waiting for a train.
Corinne knew she shouldn’t have been shocked to see him again at the metro station, but the sight of him standing on the platform still surprised her. She knew she had the advantage since he didn’t know she was there, but she wanted to talk to him. She was curious about why he’d chosen her. She’d been certain he didn’t like her, especially since he’d seen her at her worse. She swallowed and inched closer to him with all the caution of someone approaching a sleeping, wild animal.
But when she was a foot away she lost her nerve. Did it really matter when the outcome was the same? Obviously he didn’t dislike her as much as she’d thought. Or perhaps he pitied her. She could deal with pity. An event like this would be fun to put together. But why had he asked her if she was allergic to cats? Had that made a difference?
Corinne mentally shook her head. It didn’t matter. Everything was settled. She didn’t want to ruin this opportunity by asking too many questions. She took a step back no longer eager to talk to him. That’s when she noticed he was a man who couldn’t seem to stand still. He tapped one foot and then another. But his movements weren’t impatient or fidgety. They seemed quick, practiced and efficient. He drummed one hand against his thigh and then the other. He tilted his head to one side and then the other. It was the head exercises that drew her attention to a mark on his neck. A light/dark circular image. She crept closer to get a better look. It looked like a yin and yang tattoo. A tattoo? He had a tattoo? Somehow she wasn’t surprised.
He suddenly spun around, his dark gaze meeting hers; she squealed in surprise causing other people to turn towards them. She covered her mouth embarrassed.
“If you want to ask me a question,” he said, “do it, otherwise you’re invading my space.”
That voice, it still grated on her, but he was a client now. And he was now also completely still; nothing about him seemed to move, as if he was focusing all his attention on her like a laser beam.
She lowered her gaze, feeling vulnerable and shy. Why did he have to be so intense? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your space. I—”
He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “I didn’t hear you. Speak up.”
His touch left her skin burning. She cleared her throat and raised her voice a little louder, but she kept her gaze lowered. “I said I’m sorry I bothered you.”
He bent down and twisted to look up at her like a curious puppy.
She jumped back. “What are you doing?”
He straightened to his full height. “Trying to figure out whether you’re talking to me or the floor.”
You’re an odd man, she wanted to tell him, but held back that thought. He was a client after all.
He bounced up and down on the tips of his toes. “Do you have a question for me or not?”
She lowered her head. “I was just wondering—”
“Speak up.”
“I was just wondering—”
He lifted her chin again. “And look at me when you speak.”
Her heart pounded. Being this close to him was hard enough, looking at him felt impossible. Why did it matter anyway? She sighed resigned. But if she wanted an answer to her question she had to.
She trembled inside but found the courage to lift her gaze from his shoes and meet his eyes.
Lovely brown eyes in a handsome face that reminded her of the kids who used to tease her, the dates who promised to show up and didn’t. A handsome face that had probably been caressed by beautiful women, admired by powerful men. He didn’t need to give her a chance, but he had. “Why did you choose me?”
He stopped bouncing. He looked at her for a long moment, so long that she wasn’t sure he’d heard her, before he said, “Why wouldn’t I choose you?”
“Well, because I—”
“Don’t answer that. Never answer a question like that aloud unless you have a counter argument.”
She frowned. Was the man talking in riddles? Was he making fun of her? “I don’t understand you,” she admitted.
“I know,” he said with patience. He rested a large hand on her shoulder and gently pushed it back, causing her to stand straighter. “That’s why I’m trying to explain it to you.” He rested his hands on his hips and although his gaze never left her face she got the impression he was studying her—again. She wished she knew what he saw. “You have to sell yourself. When I ask, ‘Why wouldn’t I choose you?’ I mean why would an intelligent man like me be stupid enough to not choose you?”
Her frown deepened. This man was definitely strange, but intriguing. She’d never thought of it that way. Never thought that choosing her would be the rational decision.
“You’re saying that I was the most rational choice?”
“I’m saying that’s the way you should see it.”
“Oh.” She lowered her gaze. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
He bent and looked up at her again.
She stepped back surprised he could twist his body so easily. “Stop doing that.”
“Then stop talking to the floor. I’m starting to get jealous. I’m the one who hired you after all.”
She threw up her hands exasperated and stared at him. “Exactly! Why?”
He scratched his cheek. “Why?”
“Yes, why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because you came highly recommended, you have an impressive history, your ideas are sound.”
“But you didn’t hear my ideas until after you hired me. Is it because of the cats?”
“Cats?”
“You asked about cats. Whether I was allergic.”
“Oh, right. No, I only asked because I was curious.”
“Then why?”
He folded his arms and slowly blinked.
She was starting to sense that meant something but she wasn’t sure what. “You looked terrified,” he said. “Scared. You left the room as if you wanted to hide.”
The train arrived and opened its doors. He stepped inside and turned to her. Although the train was also hers, she was scared to get on.
She felt her cheeks burn. It had been that obvious? She couldn’t ride with him. She’d wait for the next one. People pushed past her to get on.
“So you felt sorry for me?” she said.
“No, I admired you.”
A warning sound that the doors would soon close echoed in the station.
“Why?”
“Because you came back.” He winked. “That’s when I knew you were the one for me.”
The doors closed.
Chapter Sixteen
You were the one for me.
He hadn’t meant to say it like that, but it was true.
“You’re grinning. Why are you grinning?”
Brett gr
oaned as he walked past the well-dressed black woman with straight chin length, highlighted brown hair, standing on his doorstep. He’d thanked the driver who’d driven him home from the metro station and had hoped to come home to peace. “What are you doing here?”
She pursed her lips. “Is that anyway to greet your mother?”
He opened the door then motioned her forward. “Do I have to greet her at all?”
“That’s better, rudeness suits you. You’re still not driving?”
“I drive sometimes,” he said, which wasn’t a complete lie. “What are you doing here?”
“What were you grinning about? You looked ridiculous.”
He hadn’t realized he was grinning, but talking to Corinne had put him in a good mood.
Corinne amused him. She was so eager to please, usually people like that annoyed him. He’d been prepared to be annoyed—after he’d gotten over his shock—when she’d first entered the conference room.
He couldn’t deny that he’d noticed her lattice patterned stockings and the glitter of gold in her ear. When she’d bumped into him and dropped her portfolio in the station, he’d felt sorry for the harried looking woman. She looked so nervous, but determined, and something about her made him wonder why she seemed so familiar. It was only when their eyes met and her expression changed that he realized she’d been that woman.
That woman who’d looked so distraught only a week ago that she’d stepped close to the edge of the platform. He hoped that if he hadn’t been there she wouldn’t have done anything. But then seeing her again, she looked nothing like that woman. That other woman had hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, like she hadn’t eaten in days. Her hair was dull, pulled back in a messy puff.
But this woman. This woman was pretty with a rosier complexion and sharp brown eyes. At first, he wasn’t sure she was the same woman. But the startled recognition on her face confirmed it.