The Tycoon and the Wedding Planner

by Kandy Shepherd

  He wasn’t sure whether he saw relief or disappointment in her eyes.

  This was just one of many jobs for him but to her it was a big deal. He knew she wanted to do her best for Ben as well as make a mark for her own career. It would be best to be honest with her.

  ‘Actually, there’s a chance I won’t be involved at all with the company by the time construction starts.’ He kept his voice calm, not wanting to reveal the churning angst behind his words.

  His obsession with the company had turned him into the worst kind of workaholic. Someone who, once his headspace was on the job, had pushed all other thoughts aside—family, friends, even his fiancée. His obsession had meant he had not been present at his father’s deathbed. It had led his fiancée to dump him. To sell the company might free him to become a better person. But it could never be an easy decision.

  Kate’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s a serious offer on the table for the company.’

  ‘You mean you’re going to sell your family company?’ The accusation in her eyes made him regret that he had opened the subject.

  ‘It’s an option. A decision I still have to make,’ he said, tight-lipped.

  She frowned. ‘How could you do that when your father and grandfather built it up?’ Her words stabbed like a knife in his gut. Betrayal—that was how people would see it. Like Kate saw it.

  ‘Businesses are bought and sold all the time. You must know that.’

  The words sounded hollow to his own ears. He knew what his father would have said—would have shouted, more like it. But he’d spent too many years trying to live up to his father’s ambitions for him. The business was his now, to make the best deal as he saw it.

  Her frown deepened. ‘But surely not family concerns? It’s...it’s like the business has been entrusted to you, isn’t it?’

  What was she, the voice of his conscience?

  ‘You could say that, but a company becomes an entity of its own,’ he said. ‘The multi-national company making the bid would grow it beyond what I could ever do in the current climate.’

  ‘Bigger isn’t always necessarily better, you know.’

  He had no answer for that. Not when he couldn’t understand why she wanted to lock herself away in a small town. But he could cut this conversation short, stop her from probing any further into the uncomfortable truths he had to deal with.

  ‘That’s beside the point,’ he said. ‘What I do with the company is my concern.’

  Her mouth twisted. ‘So you’re telling me it’s none of my business?’

  ‘That’s right,’ he said.

  * * *

  Kate didn’t know why she was shocked by Sam’s revelation, or his blunt dismissal of the ensuing conversation. After all, her first impression of him was that he looked a tough, take-no-prisoners type of guy.

  But then she’d seen a different side to his character with his talk of his volunteer work in India.

  Who was the real Sam? Was she not the only one with lurking, unresolved issues?

  She had to keep in mind he was a successful businessman. Could he have got where he was without elbowing other people aside, trampling over them, focusing only on the end goal no matter who might get hurt along the way?

  But she didn’t like the idea of him trampling over someone she cared about. ‘What about Ben? That is my business. Ben trusts you to build this hotel. How could you be so...so disloyal to him?’

  She didn’t expect loyalty to her—after all, they were barely strangers—but the fact he could walk away so easily stung just a little.

  His face was set rigid. ‘There’s nothing disloyal about it. It’s business, pure and simple. Ben’s a businessman himself, he’d understand that.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure of that. Ben wants you to build this hotel. Now I’ve met you, I...I want you to build the hotel. I call it disloyal if you hive it off to some other company we don’t know.’

  That scowl was back, his eyes bitter chocolate, dark and unreadable. ‘Correction,’ he said. ‘You want the company to build your hotel. Not me personally.’

  ‘That’s not true. It’s the personal connection that won you the tender.’

  He towered above her. ‘And I thought it was because of my expertise in building hotels.’

  ‘That too, of course.’ His glare made her fear she’d overstepped the mark. ‘I’m sorry. I should back down.’

  She was surprised that he didn’t agree with her, remind her again it was none of her business. But she got the impression he carefully considered his next words. ‘If—and it’s still an “if”—the company is sold, the new owners will honour existing contracts and do exactly the same job as the company would have done under my direction.’

  She exclaimed in disbelief. ‘How can you say that? When our local deli was taken over by a bigger company, the first thing they did was sack people and the quality declined. Same thing happened with our garden centre. They were never the same. How can you be sure that wouldn’t happen with your company?’

  He paused. ‘I can’t be sure. If I sold, the new company would make certain assurances. But once new management was in charge they would do things their own way.’

  ‘As I thought,’ she said slowly. She dreaded having to bear this news to Ben.

  ‘But as yet, I haven’t made any decisions,’ Sam said. ‘That’s one of the reasons I’m here, to take a break and think about the issue with a clear mind.’

  Was that a crack in his armour of business speak?

  ‘I still don’t get it,’ she said. ‘Why would you consider selling, with all that family history invested in your company?’

  ‘Try I’d never have to work again in my life?’ His voice was strong and certain but the conviction was missing from his eyes.

  She was probably totally out of line but she persisted. ‘I don’t know you very well, but I wonder if never working again would really satisfy you. What purpose would you have in life? I have the feeling you’re not the kind of person who would be happy doing nothing.’

  Sam’s mouth tightened and his jaw tensed. She got the feeling she’d prodded a raw spot.

  ‘Let me rephrase that,’ he said. ‘Selling would give me freedom to make my own mark, rather than carry on my father’s vision for the company. To forge something new of my own.’

  She paused. ‘I guess there’s that,’ she said. She looked up at him. ‘I might be speaking out of place here but—’

  ‘But you’re going to say it anyway,’ he finished, with the merest hint of a smile that gave her the confidence to continue.

  ‘Please think about it really carefully. Not just for Ben’s sake. Or mine. Or, I guess, the people who work for you. But for you.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ he said, his voice studiously neutral.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why, but I care about the effect it might have on you. You seem like a good person. And I reckon you might never forgive yourself if what makes your family company so special was to be destroyed.’

  * * *

  Sam swore under his breath. Every word Kate had said had hit home hard where he felt most vulnerable—and then hammered at his doubts and insecurities. How did she know how much he feared wrecking everything that was unique and good about his family company?

  He’d known her for barely twenty-four hours yet straight away she seemed to have tuned in to the dilemmas that nagged at him regarding the sale. Yes, he’d seen moral outrage in those green eyes. But he’d also seen genuine understanding.

  Frances, his ex-fiancée, would have advised sell, sell, sell. Not for the money, but to rid him of the business that she’d seen as a greedy mistress that had taken him too often from her side.

  ‘You’re a workaholic who doesn’t care a
bout anything but that damn company, and there’s nothing left to give me.’ Frances had said that on any number of occasions, the last when she’d flung her engagement ring at him. She’d never understood his compulsion to work that Kate had figured out within hours of meeting him. The compulsion he scarcely understood himself.

  But he didn’t welcome Kate’s naive assumptions about the nature of the company deal. He didn’t want to keep the business because of misplaced loyalty to an outmoded ‘one set of hands on the steering wheel’ management model. He had to be one hundred per cent sure.

  ‘Thank you, Kate. You’ve made some good points and I’ll certainly take them on board,’ he said in a stiff, businesslike tone. As if the deadline for his decision wasn’t already making his gut churn and keeping him awake at night.

  ‘I’m glad you’re not offended,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to get off to a bad start for our working relationship.’ Her brows were drawn together in a frown and her eyes were shadowed with concern.

  ‘Not offended at all. What you said makes sense. I’m not the type of guy who deals well with time on my hands. I like to be kept busy. A day out from the office and I’m getting edgy already.’

  He had started to pace back and forward, back and forward, in the same few metres of ground in front of Kate. It was a habit of his when he was stressed. He was scarcely aware he was doing it.

  In silence, she watched him, her head swivelling each time he turned, until eventually she spoke. ‘Do you realise you’re wearing a groove in the sand?’

  He stopped. ‘Just making a start on digging for the foundations,’ he said in a poor attempt at defusing his embarrassment with humour. As a CEO, as the child of a dominant father who had expected so much of him, he didn’t like revealing his weaknesses.

  She stared at him for a long moment then laughed. ‘Okay. I get it. But if this is what you’re like when you’re meant to be taking a break, I’d hate to see you when you’re on a deadline,’ she said.

  He halted. ‘I need to hit the gym. Or the surf. Get rid of some energy.’

  ‘If you really want to keep busy, I have a job for you that could fill a few hours.’

  ‘A job?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, sorry, forget I said anything. You don’t like waste-of-time wedding things.’ She looked up at him, green eyes dancing. ‘Do you?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  SAM GRITTED HIS TEETH. Kate so obviously wanted him to cajole her into telling him about the job she wanted him to do. If he played along with her girly game he could end up with some ghastly wedding-related activity like tying bows on frilly wedding favours, or adding loops and curls to his no-nonsense handwriting on place cards—all activities he’d managed to avoid for his own cancelled wedding. On the other hand, if he called her bluff and didn’t cajole her, he’d always wonder if it was a job he might have enjoyed, that would have helped take his mind of the looming deadline for his decision.

  ‘Tell me what you’d like me to do and I—’

  ‘Okay,’ she said with delight. ‘I’d like you—’

  He put up his hand to stop her. ‘Before you go any further, please let me finish. I reserve the right to pass on any excessively frivolous wedding duty.’

  She pulled one of her cute faces. ‘Oh dear. I’m not sure if what I was going to ask you to do would count as frivolous or not.’

  He tapped his booted foot on the ground. ‘Try me.’

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Okay, then. That wedding arch.’

  ‘The wedding arch you thought I’d come here to build?’

  ‘The very same. Only there was never a wedding arch. That was me jumping to conclusions.’

  ‘But now there is a wedding arch.’

  ‘The more I thought about it, the more I thought Sandy would love a wedding arch. And, as you told me you could build one, I thought it might be a good idea. As a surprise for the bride and groom.’

  He shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  ‘You mean you’ll do it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Really?’ Her face lit up and for a moment he thought she was going to grab his hands for an impromptu jig, like she had last night. But then she turned away, aware, no doubt, as he was, that it was inappropriate behaviour for a business relationship.

  He realised that, again, his devotion to the company and company rules was squashing the development of a potential relationship with a woman. Did it have to be that way? Was there a way he could keep the company and conquer the workaholic ways that had led him to be single at thirty when he had anticipated being happily married at this age? Maybe even with a family?

  ‘But won’t it be quite difficult?’ she said. Kate’s words brought him back to the present.

  ‘For a simple wooden structure? Nah. I reckon I could get everything I need at your local hardware store. Just give me an idea of what you’ve got in mind.’

  ‘I’ve looked on the Internet and downloaded some images of beautiful arches for inspiration. I’ll show you on my phone.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. He liked to work with his hands. He found the rhythm of sawing, sanding and painting relaxing. Kate’s ‘little job’ might be just what he needed to get the takeover offer into perspective.

  ‘But I’d have trouble getting flowers and ribbons at this stage,’ she said.

  He frowned. ‘Ribbons?’

  ‘Sorry, I’m thinking out loud,’ she said.

  ‘Do you need all that stuff? I can paint the arch white.’

  ‘Nice. But not enough. Not for a wedding.’ She thought some more. ‘I’ve got it—lengths of white organza draped around the poles. Simple. Elegant. Sandy would love that.’

  Sam wasn’t too sure what organza was. ‘That’s some kind of fabric, right?’

  ‘Yes. Fine, white wedding-like fabric.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to make sure the arch is anchored firmly in the sand. If it’s windy we don’t want the fabric to act like sails and pick it up.’

  ‘Oh no. Can you imagine the whole structure taking off and flying into the ocean?’ She gracefully waved her arms in her long white sleeves, miming wings, and he could see the dancer in her.

  He had been dragged along with his mother to see Swan Lake for some charity function; he was struck by the image of Kate in costume as an exquisite white swan. He wished he’d seen her dance on stage.

  ‘Yep. I can see the headlines in the Dolphin Bay Daily,’ he said. ‘“Bridal Arch Lost at Sea”.’

  ‘Eek! Please don’t tease me about it. A wedding planner’s nightmare.’ She frowned. ‘That really would be a disaster, wouldn’t it? Maybe we should forget the whole idea of the arch.”

  ‘I’ll make it work. I promise.’ He liked it that his words of reassurance smoothed away her frown.

  ‘Thank you, Sam. You’re being such a good sport about this.’

  She looked up at him and smiled and there was a long moment of complicity between them.

  Working on the project meant more time spent with Kate. He shouldn’t be so pleased at the idea but he was. He usually looked temptation in the eye and vanquished it. Not so when it came to the opportunity to spend more time with this woman.

  Building a wedding arch was the last thing he wanted to do. Correction—the frilly wedding favours would have been the last thing. But he’d happily make ten wedding arches if it meant seeing more of Kate. He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t date her. He couldn’t think of her in terms of a relationship. But that wouldn’t stop him enjoying her company in a hands-off way.

  ‘Okay, now that you’ve reassured me it will work, I’m so excited we’re doing this,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to see the look on Sandy’s face when she walks onto the sand and sees it there.’

  ‘Let’s get on with it, then,’ he said.

 
; And try not to think about what it would be like to have a hands-on relationship with Kate.

  ‘So, show me the pictures on your phone,’ he said.

  ‘Sure.’ She burrowed into that oversized handbag and pulled out her phone. ‘Here they are,’ she said, holding it up. He moved towards her so he could stand behind her, looking over her shoulder to her phone. He ended up so close, if she leaned backward she would nestle against him, as if they were spooning. Not a good idea.

  He took a step back but then he couldn’t see. He narrowed his eyes. ‘The sun’s reflecting off the screen,’ he said. ‘All I can see is glare.’ He reached around her shoulder so he could cup her phone with his hand and shade it from the sunlight.

  Bad move. It brought him way too close to her. He had to fight to ignore his tantalising proximity to her slender back, the curves of her behind.

  Was she aware too? Her husky voice got even huskier as she chattered on, which made him suspect she was not as unaware as she was trying to seem. ‘This one’s made with bamboo but I think it looks too tropical,’ she said. ‘I like the wooden ones best; what do you think?’

  She scrolled through the images of fancy wedding arches, but he was finding it too hard to concentrate when he could only think of the way-too-appealing woman so close to him.

  ‘Can you see it?’ she asked, swaying back. Now they were actually touching. He gritted his teeth.

  ‘Yes. The wooden one is good,’ he said in a strangled voice.

  ‘Might the bamboo be easier for you to make?’ she said.

  ‘The wooden is fine. Easy.’

  ‘So you don’t like the bamboo?’

  ‘No.’ He couldn’t care less about the arch. He could easily look up some designs later himself when he got back to the hotel.

  ‘Can you figure out the measurements you need?’

  There was only one set of measurements on his mind, and it wasn’t for a wooden wedding arch.

  ‘You have to allow room for both bride and groom,’ she nattered on, while he broke out in a cold sweat. ‘Ben’s tall, but Sandy isn’t wearing a big skirt, so...’