Anything but Vanilla(11)
‘Pink?’
‘Pink, mauve, blue...designer colours to match your outfit.’
‘Please tell me that you’re kidding.’
‘You think there will be outrage?’ She risked a smile—just a low-wattage affair. ‘Letters to The Times? Questions raised about the legality of the balls? All bags of publicity for Jefferson Sports.’
‘Always assuming that it doesn’t rain.’
‘The forecast is good, but there’s a picturesque Victorian Conservatory, a classical temple, a large marquee and a load of celebrities. The pictures will be great whatever the weather.’
She’d seized the opportunity to promote their company to Nick Jefferson when he’d called at her office to book ‘Rosie’ for his youngest child’s birthday party. Rosie had been a hit and, when he’d invited her to tender for this promotional party, she’d beaten off the competition with her idea for a ‘champagne tea’ delivered in mouth-sized bites of ice cream—witty, summery, fun.
There were going to be major sports stars amongst the guests, all the usual ‘celebrities’ as well as a couple of minor royals, and the coverage in the gossip magazines and Sunday newspapers would give them exposure to their core customer base that not even the biggest advertising budget could deliver.
Without Ria’s ices she would not only miss that opportunity, but, if she didn’t deliver, her reputation would be in ruins and all her hard work would have been for nothing.
‘Mr West...’ calling him Alexander hadn’t worked and she was in dead earnest now; it was vital to convince him ‘...if I don’t deliver a perfectly executed event for Jefferson my reputation will disappear faster than a choc ice in a heatwave.’ Worse, it could backfire on the rest of the business. ‘If that happens, Ria won’t be the only one up the financial creek without a paddle and...’ since he’d already admitted that he was in some way responsible for Ria’s problems there was no harm in playing the guilt card ‘...you’ll have two insolvencies on your conscience.’
‘If you relied on Ria,’ he replied, unmoved, ‘you deserve to sink.’
‘That’s a bit harsh.’ She had always been aware that there was an element of risk working with Ria, but until now she’d been managing it. Or thought she had.
‘It’s a harsh world.’
‘So you’re going to let the taxman take us both down?’
‘If we don’t pay our taxes, Miss Amery, everyone loses.’
‘I pay mine!’ she declared, furiously. ‘On the dot. Along with all my bills. What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Well, you’re never here, are you? Do you have a job, Mr West, or do you just live on handouts from gullible women?’
‘Is that what you think? That I’m the reason Ria is in trouble?’
His voice, soft as cobwebs, raised the gooseflesh on her arms. Had she got it totally wrong?
Renowned for being calm in a crisis, she was totally losing it in the face of the kind of body that challenged her notion of what was attractive in a man. Slim, elegant, wearing bespoke tailoring...
He was so not her type!
Not in a million years.
She mentally hung a Do Not Touch notice around his neck, counted to three and took a deep breath.
‘It doesn’t matter what I think.’ The ability to hang on to a calm demeanour in the face of disaster was a prime requisite of the events organiser, but right now she was running on her reserve tank with the red light flashing a warning. ‘Can we at least check and see if she’s made the sorbet?’ she suggested, resisting the urge to rub her hands up and down her arms to warm them and instead reaching for a white coat and slipping it on. Settling a white trilby over her hair. A statement of intent. ‘It has a very short shelf life and by the time you and the Revenue sort out the paperwork it will be well beyond its best-before date. So much sorbet down the drain. A waste of everyone’s money.’
‘I’m sure you’re only worried about yours.’
He was losing patience now, regarding her with undisguised irritation, and she regretted her rush to cover up. The slightest shrug would have sent a strap sliding from her shoulder.
It wasn’t the way she did business, but then he wasn’t the kind of man she usually did business with. Any distraction in a crisis... Now she was aware of the danger she would stay well out of reach.