by Fiona Harper
Alice scurried home and checked out Jennie’s files again. Booking models wasn’t a problem; Jennie had made a shortlist of agencies. But as Alice picked up the phone to ring them on Wednesday morning, she froze mid-way through dialling the first number.
Just where was she going to hold a ‘go-see’ for these models? In the last two days her tiny rented bedroom had become a makeshift office, and was now mostly buried under bits of paper, hanging rails and boxes of clothes. Now when she fell into bed at night she had to scoop a whole load of mess off of her bed and dump it on her desk. The next morning she scooped it right up again and threw it back on the bed. She could hardly phone up the modelling agencies and ask them to send a steady stream of girls and boys to 27b Laburnham Terrace, so they could tramp up the narrow stairs and parade around in her boxroom. What sort of impression would that create?
She put her mobile on the only titchy free bit of space on her desk and stared at it. There was only one thing she could think of doing. Phoning Cameron. And she really, really didn’t want to do that.
How could she face him again after the site meeting? Thank goodness she’d recovered a little when she’d seen the building and realised all the possibilities for the ball. She’d been able to block all the stupidity out for a while and talk sense. A shudder rippled through her as she remembered how she’d suddenly got all clumsy and wordless. She’d practically been drooling, for heaven’s sake! No wonder she had no desire to repeat the humiliation.
Yes, okay, she knew they’d see each other again on the fourteenth—the night of the ball—but until then she’d hoped to keep things completely to e-mail. She’d already sent him a few lengthy updates, keeping him abreast of everything, preempting any more unexpected phone calls.
Why?
There was no point hiding from it. She’d got the hots for Cameron Hunter, and she’d got them bad. Which was a disastrous idea. She needed to be cool and professional to make a success of this project. Being so far out of her comfort zone, she was practically on a different planet.
She rested her elbows unevenly on top of some notebooks strewn across her desk and put her head in her hands. It was probably just some subconscious reaction to being recently dumped. Something to do with feeling on the shelf and unattractive. Just a subconscious thing.
And a physical thing. Definitely a physical thing.
Which was why she was aiming to keep being in the same room as him to a minimum. Perhaps then she’d have time to gather herself together. By the time the fashion show and the ball came around she’d be over it, and far too busy organising things on the night to even speak to him. And he’d be too busy mixing with the great and good on the guest list to want to talk to her. No, if she kept her distance, it would all work out fine.
But then there was the voice…
Log fires were so yesterday. Today’s trend was furnaces. Every time he’d opened his mouth on their tour of the building she’d felt a fire lick the soles of her feet, and it had travelled up and up and up until her ears had burned and she’d been sure he’d notice the heightened colour in her cheeks.
Hence the e-mails. E-mails were good. E-mails didn’t require her to stop listening to the actual words and just drift away on the warm, earthy sound of his voice…
Alice’s eyes had slid shut and she snapped them open. Stop it! She picked up a bright yellow folder from her desk and fanned herself down with it. Was twenty-eight too young to be having hot flushes?
Now she thought about it there was a problem with the e-mails—the replies. When they arrived, and she read Cameron’s sharp, concise verdict on her notes, she couldn’t help picturing him standing on that balcony, standing so close to her that she’d been able to smell his clean, unfussy aftershave, close enough to see those warm flecks in his dark eyes. And that led to thinking about his rare, show-stopping smiles, and then her pulse would start to get all silly.
So, whichever way she looked at it, she was in big trouble. In which case she might as well just stop sitting here daydreaming, pick up the phone and get it over and done with.
In a minute, anyway. She’d just look at her notes first.
She booted up her laptop. Her fingers were hovering over the keyboard when her phone rang. Her heart did a sickening lurch, as if it had tripped over its toes and gone tumbling down the stairs. She stared at it.
It was a number she didn’t recognise.
Answer it, you fool!
What? Oh, right.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Alice.’
Whoomp. The furnace rushed into life.
‘Hi, Cameron! I got the stuff you sent over.’ Great. She’d been aiming to sound like a calm, professional woman and instead she’d got closer to Minnie Mouse.
‘Were those files any help?’ he asked, a slight tinge of desperation in his voice.
She spread the sheets out on her desk and frowned. ‘I’ve only been able to leaf through so far, but Jennie seems to have a lot of the details covered. I suspect she may have booked musicians and caterers already, but I’ll have to ring and check.’
Cameron made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a relieved sigh. ‘Good. I’m glad it’s not a complete disaster. Is there anything I can do to help?’ he asked, and she took a deep breath and told herself to behave.
She explained about the models—the casting session, the lack of a suitable venue.
‘We’ll do it here,’ he said, before she’d finished her last sentence. ‘In fact I should have thought of the fact that you’d need space, an office…’
‘But I’ve got—’
‘You can have space here. There’s a spare office in my suite, and you can use the meeting room for casting the models.’
Alice’s face crumpled into a look of utter despair. ‘Really, there’s no need for an office. Just the meeting room would be fine. I can do the rest from—’
‘It makes sense for you to be on hand. That way I can answer any queries immediately, approve things quickly, and you can stop flooding my inbox with charts and pages of notes.’ It was only the faint edge of humour in that last comment that stopped her flinging the phone down on him.
What was it about this man that made it impossible to say no to him? It was like having an argument with a steamroller. One minute you were standing your ground, pleading your case, and the next you were flat on the floor, agreeing to everything he said and wondering what had hit you. If she was going to manage to work with him on this party—this extravaganza, as she was now beginning to think of it—she was going to have to start giving as good as she got, even if no one else seemed to do it.
She’d seen the way everyone at the building site had behaved around him. It was, Yes, Mr Hunter…No, Mr Hunter. Well, maybe not no. She hadn’t actually heard anyone be brave enough to utter that word in his presence.
But she had an advantage his employees didn’t have.
None of his staff had seen him playing ridiculous party games. That Christmas, after they’d escaped from the party, they’d eventually been discovered and told off for not joining in. His staff hadn’t seen him trying to pass an orange to Aunty Barb with the thick foundation. It had been cringeworthy and hilarious all at the same time. Cameron had screwed up his face and desperately tried not to get smudged with make-up that was almost as bright as the fruit under his chin. He had failed miserably.
She’d just have to keep that image in mind every time he decided to get all high and mighty on her. Yep. That ought to do the trick.
Alice moved into a little office at Orion Solutions the following morning. It was a small space near the lifts, and nowhere as huge as some of the other rooms nearby, but that suited Alice just fine. She didn’t want big and expansive. She wanted a little hole she could hide in until all this was over and done. Even though Cameron’s office was on the same floor, her new office was as far away from his as it was possible to be without falling off the edge of the building. Hopefully that kind of geography would help her con
centration.
Cameron had been as good as his word. He’d arranged for all of Alice’s IT bookings for the next three weeks to be covered by a team of experts from Orion Solutions, and now she had a chance to live her dream and get a taste of what it was like to live and breathe vintage fashion without all that pesky computer stuff getting in her way.
At least, she’d be able to live and breathe vintage fashion once she got a few other annoying things off her mind. Yesterday evening she’d got an e-mail from Cameron’s PA, letting her know he had arranged for them to have lunch together the following day to discuss preparations for the ball. There had only been his voicemail to talk to by the time she’d found the message. This morning she’d tried to ring him again, to cancel, but had been told he was out and would be meeting her at the restaurant. She should just make her way to the lobby at twelve-thirty, where somebody would meet her and let her know where to go.
She didn’t even get a chance to explain that she’d rather not have lunch with the boss. The fact that someone might deviate from his instructions was obviously an unknown concept around here. So, while she should have been getting down to business—making calls, crossing things off her ever-expanding list—she spent most of her time worrying about seeing Cameron in the flesh again, and whether her wardrobe today was going to be up to anywhere he was going to take her.
The chocolate trousers had had to make a reappearance. Alice discovered a burning need to go shopping for new work clothes. Her usual jeans and boots, more suited to crawling around on the floor looking at cables, just weren’t going to cut it here at the rather upmarket Orion Solutions. All the men wore really nice suits, and the women looked sharp and smart, as if their feet didn’t protest at all when they marched round the office all day in heels.
Alice’s feet had protested at just being prised out of her comfy trainers and forced into a pair of low-heeled pumps.
Still, however scarily smart the Orion bunch seemed to be, they were all very friendly, and there seemed to be a lot of good-natured banter going on. Cameron’s PA got her a coffee and chatted away so incessantly about him that Alice’s eyes started to glaze over. It seemed she felt she’d found a kindred spirit.
At twelve-twenty-five Alice stepped into the lift and felt her stomach float and churn in a disturbing way as the doors closed and she started the downward journey. It seemed to go on for ever, and she was heartily relieved when they reached the lobby.
As soon as she stepped from the lift, a serious dark-suited young man who introduced himself as just ‘Henderson’ approached her, and indicated she should follow him. Alice trotted after him, wondering which sandwich bar they were headed for. But instead of leading her to a little café, with pictures of coffee cups on the windows, Henderson stopped in front of a long black limo and opened the door.
Alice just stared at him.
‘We’re eating in there?’ she said, confusion written all over her face.
Henderson, bless him, didn’t even crack a smile.
‘No, madam. Mr Hunter would like you to join him up in town, and has asked me to drive you to the restaurant.’
Oh.
Work lunches to self-employed Alice meant a Thermos of soup or a ham salad bap and a packet of crisps. They obviously meant something totally different to Cameron Hunter.
Not wanting to seem even more gauche than she already had, she slid into the back seat of the limo, and didn’t dare squeak another word until they arrived at their destination.
The drive out of Docklands into the West End seemed to fly past. Perhaps it was Alice’s imagination, but the traffic seemed to melt away, deferring to the powerful, sleek black car. The other drivers probably imagined somebody famous or important was inside. That made her smile. It was like having a secret joke, seeing all the other traffic let them pass and knowing it was only ordinary old her on the other side of the tinted glass.
Henderson finally drew up outside an imposing hotel on the edge of Hyde Park, and before Alice could even thank him she was being ushered out of the car and into the foyer by a liveried doorman. From there she was escorted towards the restaurant, which was hidden behind a screen of glass shelves stacked with hundreds of bottles of wine. Even before she saw the restaurant she knew it was going to be somewhere scarily minimalist and trendy, and that she probably wouldn’t recognise half the ingredients on the menu.
She smoothed down the hem of her soft heather-coloured polo neck as she followed the waiter to a table near the windows overlooking the park. There was no sign of Cameron, and she had no idea what time the table had been booked for, so she sat as still as she could and tried not to look too out of place.
A different waiter appeared and asked her if she’d like some wine. She desperately wanted to say yes, but decided she needed a clear head and asked for water instead.
Where, oh, where was Cameron? Far from wanting to avoid meeting him, she was now desperate to see something—someone—who wasn’t totally alien to her.
Two women in extremely expensive coats walked past her table.
‘Did you see who was in the lobby?’ the one in the camel coat asked the other one.
‘No,’ the other woman, who had bumped Alice with her massive shoulder bag as she passed, replied. ‘Anyone we know?’
‘Cameron Hunter,’ Camel Coat muttered under her breath as she sat down at a table only a few feet away. ‘I don’t actually know him personally, but he used to go out with my sister.’
‘Really? I think my cousin dated him once too.’
Alice’s ears tingled. She didn’t want to listen to this conversation, but she didn’t have much choice. Apart from sticking her fingers in her ears and going la-la-la, there wasn’t much she could do.
‘Silly girl,’ Large Shoulder Bag said with a sigh. ‘I don’t think there’s a heart in London he hasn’t broken. But she thought she was going to be the one to succeed where all the others had failed. Of course he ended it.’
Alice’s urge to ram her index fingers in her ears was almost irresistible.
‘Of course,’ Camel Coat said sagely. ‘He always does.’
‘She should have known the score from the start—silly girl.’
CHAPTER FOUR
ALICE had her fingers ready, and was just about to lift them from under the tablecloth when she saw Cameron striding across the room. Something odd happened. An invisible ripple emanated from him, and everyone it touched straightened their spines, looked his way, then hurried on about their business. Even the two women in the coats stopped gossiping, thank goodness.
‘Sorry I’m a little late,’ he said, as he leaned over to kiss her cheek.
Alice burbled something noncommittal in reply. Stringing words into sentences was suddenly beyond her.
Immediately two—not one, but two—waiters snapped to attention at their table. Cameron ordered off-menu, and Alice let him pick for her too. She wasn’t even sure she knew what ‘ballotine of rabbit’ or ‘celeriac remoulade’ were, anyway. And that was only from the list of starters!
But Cameron seemed completely at home with the waiters bobbing up and down, almost sprinting off to get him anything he desired, and Alice realised with astonishment that he was just as comfortable here as she would have been in that little café with the coffee cups on the window. This was his world. Somehow she hadn’t really believed all the millionaire software entrepreneur stuff up until now. Being slapped in the face with it was somewhat of a shock.
Thankfully, after they’d demolished their starters, they got on with discussing the ball, and she filled him in on the details of what Jennie had already booked and how the plans were progressing. Cameron seemed happy with everything she said, but somehow, Alice just couldn’t seem to relax with him as she had the other day. It was as if she was seeing him with a completely fresh pair of eyes.
Was there even a hint of the sensitive, serious young man she’d known all those years ago? If there was, she was struggling hard to see it in him today. He
was all quiet charm and confidence, understated power. There was something compelling and magnetic about him, and he drew every female eye in the busy restaurant, but Alice couldn’t help feeling that she was sitting opposite a stranger.
Well, perhaps that was for the best. The past was the past, and she needed concentrate on the future—the next few weeks in particular. For that time period he would effectively be her boss. She was just another one of his paid minions.
He was all business during lunch, treating her as such. And that started to rankle with Alice. Even the divine food couldn’t take her mind off her irritation. She was doing him a favour, actually, not the other way around. A smile now and then wouldn’t go amiss. But he was so totally focussed on the project in hand it seemed he’d forgotten how to be…well, human.
Things didn’t improve much when they headed back to the office. Alice returned to her own little room, and there she stayed, glued to the phone, frantically taking notes and generally filling the space with an ever-expanding mess that she wasn’t quite sure Cameron would approve of.
Every time she thought of him, even when she remembered lunch with the cold, emotionless business tycoon, her whole body buzzed and she flushed hot and cold—just as she had that day at the building site. Time and distance didn’t seem to dilute the effect he had on her, unfortunately. And neither did being in a slight strop with him.
She was starting to understand Jennie’s multitude of doodles, because she’d caught herself in the act too. Nothing incriminating, like initials or love hearts, but it was the fact she was doodling at all that bothered her. She was supposed to be concentrating.
At the end of the day, when she’d made her last phone call and her to-do list had started to go all blurry, she headed for the lift. Just as the doors were about to close, a large hand sliced between them and pulled them open again. Alice didn’t need to see the rest of the body to know who it was. All at once the blood in her veins started to hum.