Rusty Nailed (Cocktail, #2)(5)

“I have something on my mind that might make your face light up even brighter—although it is an interesting tomato-soup color right now,” she teased.

“Does your fiancé find you as annoying as everyone who works for you does?”

“Way more, way way more. You ready to hear the big news, or did you want to keep sassing me?”

“Hit me,” I said with a sigh.

I love my boss, but she does have a flair for the dramatic. Like when she played matchmaker last year for Simon and me, playing dumb the entire time. But her heart was in the right place. It also belonged 100 percent totally and completely to Benjamin, a venture capitalist. They’d been together for years and were finally tying the knot in a few weeks, in a wedding that all of San Francisco was talking about. Benjamin was a certifiable dreamboat who made my best friends and me giddy and word-trippy whenever he was around. Jillian knew we all had a not-so-secret crush on her man, and teasingly used it against us as often as possible. Now she was finally marrying our dream man, and heading off for a dream honeymoon all over Europe.

“So remember the job we did last spring for Max Camden? The waterfront Victorian we did, before his daughter got married?”

“Yeah, he gave it to her as a wedding present. Who does that?”

“Max Camden, that’s who. Anyway, he owns the old Claremont Hotel in Sausalito, and he’s looking for a new design firm to update it and give it a modern twist.”

“Fantastic! Did you do your proposal already?” I asked, picturing the property. Right off the main drag in Sausalito, the Claremont had been there since the turn of the last century, one of the few to survive the Big Quake.

“No, because you’re doing the proposal. You’ll be the lead designer on this project if you get it,” she clarified. “You think I can take something like this on? Right before my wedding? I’m not giving up my honeymoon for work—I’ve given up too many vacations over the years as it is.”

“Me? No no no, I’m not ready for that, you’re not ready for that, what are you thinking?” I stammered, my heart leaping into my throat. This was big-time, baby.

“Please, you got this.” She kicked me gently. “Feel that? That’s my foot, kicking you out of the nest.”

“Um, yeah, I’ve been out of the nest awhile now, but this is different,” I protested, chewing on my pencil.

Which she plucked out of my mouth. “You really think I’d give this to you if you weren’t ready? And tell me the truth, aren’t you even the slightest bit intrigued?”

She had me there. I’d always wanted to do a project this big. But to actually be the lead designer on an entire hotel redesign?

“I realize I’m asking a lot—you’re already going to be running the show around here while I’m on my honeymoon. Do you truly think this is too much to bite off at one time?”

“Wow—I just—wow,” I answered, taking a deep breath. When she’d initially asked me if I’d keep things running while she was on her honeymoon, it was things like making sure the alarm was set each night and that Ashley made sure to order coffee creamer. The list had steadily grown larger as projects stacked up, but still very much manageable. Now this?

I let the idea sit for a moment. Could I do this? Jillian seemed to think so.

“Hmm . . .”

I pictured the hotel: great light, great location, but needed a major overhaul. I was already thinking about potential palettes when she tapped me on the head with her pencil.

“Come in, Caroline. Hello,” she said, waving her hand in front of my face.

I grinned at her. “I’m in, let’s go for it,” I said, my head already full of ideas.

She grinned back and offered me a fist bump. “I’ll let the team know you’ll be presenting.”

“Presenting my vomit, most likely,” I said, only half kidding.

“Just make sure it matches the drapes and we’re in the clear. Now, let’s celebrate by choosing a song to walk down the aisle to.” She pulled her iPod out of her pocket and started scrolling through.

“Is that in my job description?”

“That you indulge me? Yes, check your contract. So when I walk down the aisle, which song should I . . .”

There was no stopping her once she’d put on her Wedding Hat, so I relaxed a bit, even though my mind was spinning. This was big-time baby, but I had this.

Right?

? ? ?

I spent the afternoon framing out the beginnings of a pitch to Max Camden. As I pulled archival photos of the hotel and the surrounding area, ideas were beginning to present themselves. Not fully formed yet, but hinting at what might be an approach interesting enough to take a chance on a young designer. I knew that the strength of my ideas would be bolstered by Jillian’s reputation; anyone who was good enough to work for her was usually granted wider berth. However, it still came down to whose ideas were best—and I wanted this concept to be epic.

Still musing over the project as I turned my key in my front door, I heard a distinct thump, followed by a click click click padding toward me.

Clive.

Pushing through the door, I was greeted by my wonder cat, my own little piece of feline heaven. In a burst of gray fur, my ankles were surrounded by purrs and insistent nudges.

“Hi there, sweet boy, were you a good boy today?” I asked, leaning down to scratch his silky fur.