“Of course I’m not shutting the hotel down, don’t be ridiculous. And if any employees aren’t required during refurbishing, they’ll get paid vacation. Will that suit you?”
“I want it in writing,” Mari reiterated, and put down her wineglass. He was the boss, and she was treading perilously close to insubordination. She thought back to the timid girl who had started working here only a few years ago. It was the people in this very hotel that had helped her. She wouldn’t let them down now.
“You are a sharp one.” His voice held a touch of irritation and she felt the warm thread of slight victory infuse her. She’d gotten to him, then. His implacable charm was faltering and it emboldened her.
“I’m no one’s yes-man.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” His gaze appraised her and she felt a flush climb her cheeks. It felt as though the air in her chest expanded. No, no, no. She had to keep focused on work!
“Perhaps tomorrow we might schedule a meeting to go over the preliminary details.”
“I have a better idea.”
Mari met his eyes yet again, and for a moment the air seemed to hum between them. The annoyance of moments ago was dispelled as he slid one hand into his jeans pocket. His eyes were warm, crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
She took two steps back as sure footing flew out the window. Alarm bells started ringing in her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Here, in the hotel. It’ll be a business supper. What is it you say…scout’s honor? Strictly work.” He lifted a finger to his forehead.
“It’s two fingers, and dinner is hardly a business meeting.”
Luca stepped forward, putting his glass down on a side table with a small click that echoed in the silence.
He was too close again. Part of her held the thread of panic and the other part was drawn to him, plain and simple, which meant that nothing was simple at all. It was much easier when they were disagreeing. Easier to keep him at a distance. She wasn’t equipped to deal with his charm. He didn’t even seem to know he possessed it.
“Bring your day planner if that makes you happy.” Happy? Huh. He was flirting, and she didn’t flirt. Ever!
“I think my office tomorrow would be much better.”
“Yes, but you see I need to get a complete picture, and that includes the quality of the dining experience. And eating alone does not constitute a fine dining experience, in my opinion.”
Oh, he was good. Smooth and persuasive and actually logical! She couldn’t find a good argument. How could she tell him why she didn’t go out to dinner with anyone? How she went home each night and made a meal for one and ate it with Tommy, her dog? Flimsy at best. And the real reason was none of his business. Not his, not anyone’s. No one here knew how she’d run away. How she still looked over her shoulder.
“A working dinner.”
“Of course.”
There was no polite way out of it. He was here, all the way from Italy, he was her boss and he was calling the shots. Like it or not. She’d pushed him as far as she’d dared just now and her victory was thin. If they were to work together for the next several weeks, months even…her heart quivered at the thought… then somehow they needed to reach an amicable status quo. She swallowed. He had to know she was not afraid. He had to know she put the hotel and its employees first.
“One dinner, that’s all. And we discuss work.”
“Naturally.”
Mari took a few sidesteps, thankful the door was within reach. “I’ll meet you in the Panorama Room at six.”
“Perfect.”
When he walked toward her she pulled open the door, a little too quickly to be poised. His hand gripped the door frame above her shoulder and she felt the heat from his body. Too close. She wasn’t sure if the tripping of her pulse was fear or exhilaration. She slid out the opening as fast as she possibly could, clinging to whatever grace she could muster.
“I’ll see you then,” Luca said softly.
She fled for the elevator without looking back.
It was 5:57 when Mari stopped before the entrance of the dining room and smoothed her dress.
She paused in the door, scanning the room, but he wasn’t there. Relief warred with annoyance. She didn’t have to worry about making an entrance this way, but at least he could be on time. She wanted to get this over with. It was irritating to have her initial impressions of him confirmed so accurately. Luca was unfocused, cavalier about the whole thing. He was every bit the playboy she’d read about. Sexy and smooth. Working together was going to drive her crazy.
She was shown to the best table in the room. She took her seat with surprise, looked outside at the mountains and trees being thrown into shadow by twilight. She hadn’t asked for this particular table; it was one usually reserved for guests requesting something “special.” It would be very wrong of them to monopolize the table when there was likely a paying guest waiting for it.
She sipped her drink and waited. By ten past six her toes had joined her nails, tapping with impatience. Only to stop abruptly when he stepped in the room.
God, he was beautiful. She could admit it when he was a room away from her and they weren’t embroiled in business. He was safe there. Safe and devastatingly sexy in black trousers and a white shirt. She shook her head, sighing. It was one of those tailored shirts that was meant to be untucked, emphasizing his narrow waist and moving up to broad shoulders. One hand slid casually into his pocket in a gesture she somehow already knew intimately. He said something to the hostess at the front, and the two of them laughed.
Luca Fiori was every woman’s dream. Everyone’s but hers. Dreams like that simply didn’t last. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the package. It was a lovely package. And for a very quick moment, she wished. Wishing wasn’t a luxury she afforded herself. But looking at Luca, with his bronzed skin and easy smile, she wished she knew how to be that free. To be able to accept, and to give.
He approached the table with an easy stride. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got caught up in e-mails my father sent and lost track of time.”
She pursed her lips, determined not to let him off easily, but he leaned over and pressed an informal kiss of greeting to her cheek.
She froze.
Seemingly unaware of her reaction, Luca took the chair across from her. “You look beautiful. Have you ordered?”
Beautiful? Her? She’d gone home to change and feed Tommy and then he’d drooled over the front of her outfit, causing a wardrobe change. Gone was the tailored charcoal trouser suit she’d picked and in its place was her generic little black dress—simply cut, black velvet with long fitted sleeves and with a hem ending just above the knee.
It wasn’t as businesslike as she’d have preferred, but it worked and while classy there wasn’t much sexy about it. It seemed compliments rolled off his tongue as easily as assurances.
“Thank you, and no, I was enjoying a drink and the music.” Mari struggled to make her voice sound less strangled than she felt.
A recent jazz CD played over the speakers. She hadn’t paid it a whit of attention but needed to cover. It was becoming clear that Luca was a toucher. He was comfortable with easy, physical gestures like polite kisses and hand clasps. It should help, knowing they were impersonal, but Mari knew she could never be that tactile with people. It was simply too difficult. Yet to explain was unthinkable. She’d just have to muddle through.
“I ordered us some wine on the way in.