‘May we come in?’
That was not a request, Casey gathered. ‘Could you give me a minute?’
‘Two minutes?’ Raffa suggested dryly.
She closed the door with barely a click. Two minutes to call room service, find clothes more suitable for a business meeting than her teddy bear print pyjamas, and summon the invisible butler from wherever he hung out. Shouldering the phone, she ordered juice, coffee, iced water and pastries. Scraping her hair back on her way to the bathroom, she secured it in the band she always wore round her wrist. Scrubbing her teeth, she gargled with mouthwash before tearing into the bedroom, where she tugged on her work clothes and forced a pair of shoes onto her feet more or less simultaneously.
‘Please come in,’ she invited two minutes later, hitting the deadline square on the nail.
He leafed through the notes Casey had prepared for him. Her handwriting was bad, but she had bullet-pointed everything, and her ideas leapt off the page. They were great.
‘This is good,’ he said briefly, before handing it around.
Casey’s ideas were unique and fresh, and he was glad he had passed responsibility for running the auction over to her. His only problem was with the large reception room they were using for this meeting. It was the same place he’d seen her half naked, and it was proving to be a real distraction. His position was clear, he reminded himself sternly. Casey was pure. He was not. She was under his protection.
Which wasn’t nearly enough to stop him wanting her.
The muted murmurs of Raffa’s team discussing her proposal provided a soothing soundtrack to Casey’s turbulent thoughts. Raffa watched his board members while she watched him. He glanced up once, and, seeing her looking at him, turned away. She knew her cheeks must be flushed, betraying her, but some-thing made her look at him again … and this time their gazes held. Was Raffa approving her or warning her?
Thankfully, her body quivered a warning, which was enough to make her excuse herself from the table. At precisely that moment the invisible butler chose to make a welcome appearance at the head of a team of waiters with their midnight feast.
‘Thank you—just put it down over here, would you, please?’ Casey murmured as the discussion of her proposals continued to gather momentum around the table. She’d return in a minute and add her own thoughts to the discussion, but in the meantime … Was she imagining Raffa’s gaze on her back? She tensed, every sense on high alert. She concentrated hard on showing the waiters where to put things. ‘Thank you,’ she said to them again, handing over the tip she’d kept by.
‘You’ve thought of everything,’ Raffa murmured, appearing by her side.
‘Coffee?’ she said, struggling for normality in a world full of just one man.
‘Coffee would be good for everyone at this point.’
Raffa called a ten-minute break while she tried to ignore the effect his deep rich baritone was having on her senses.
‘No one wants to stop talking,’ he said, returning to her side. ‘They’re too enthused by your plan.’
‘I’m pleased they like it.’
‘Like it? They own it already.’
‘It’s only in the planning stages at the moment,’ she pointed out. ‘But if you think it’s what you want …’
‘It is what I want.’
His gaze strayed to her lips. She tried hard not to react or show by any means that her body yearned to be touched by him.
‘Shall we return to the table?’ Raffa suggested, as if this highly charged moment had never happened.
She practically galloped there.
They finally broke at three in the morning, by which time Casey was wide awake. But, as Raffa pointed out, they all ought to get some sleep as they had to start again first thing in the morning. This morning, Casey reflected as the team filed out. It was hardly worth going to bed.
Raffa was the last to leave. During the course of the meeting he had taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a tempting few inches of hard, bronzed flesh. With his sleeves rolled back, revealing hard muscled forearms, he was quite a distraction—one she hadn’t had the chance to appreciate fully during the meeting. As she said goodbye to him he looked at her another beat too long. His stubble was blacker than ever, making him look like a buccaneer. He made her feel very small and not very safe, and suddenly she wasn’t sure what to say next. A brisk goodnight was safest, Casey concluded, reaching for the door handle.
She drew a swift intake of breath when Raffa’s hand covered hers. Was this the moment? She remained motionless as he lightly ran the knuckles of one hand down her cheek.
‘You did well tonight, Casey …’
‘Thank you …’ Everything slipped out of focus while she examined the effect Raffa had on her inexperienced body.
That had to be why it took her a moment to realise he’d gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CASEY let her clothes lie where they fell and collapsed into bed. She’d probably been unconscious before her head had hit the pillow, she realised when the bedside alarm rang. She hadn’t noticed how tired she was—but Raffa had. Was that why he had left her so abruptly? She traced the path his hand had taken down her face. She still wore the memory of his touch, which led seamlessly on to wondering how the rest of her might feel now if he had continued his explorations.
Don’t even think that way, she told herself firmly, swinging her legs over the side of the divan. She was innocent, she was inexperienced, and this was business. She might have had only three hours’ sleep, but another working day had started and she had to be ready for anything Raffa threw at her.
The phone was ringing when she came out of the bathroom. She pounced on it, thrilling at the sound of the familiar voice—though she started smiling when she heard his words. ‘This time don’t tell me you’re ready if you’re not.’
‘Give me five minutes.’
‘I’m in the lobby.’
And pacing up and down, Casey guessed as the line went dead.
Raffa took Casey to the venue where the auction would be held. It was the ballroom of his latest hotel. He showed her the guest list, as well as the table plan she’d asked to see. She said it was crucial to understand the rivalries between the various tables, and that was where he could help out. By lunchtime she had a good overview, and had convinced Raffa that he had a strong new team member in Casey Michaels. He had only one small niggle left. Casey could pull people together and work effectively in a team, but could she whip jaded billionaires into a frenzy of competition? That remained to be seen. Meanwhile …
‘Lunch?’ he suggested.
‘I’ve no time for lunch,’ she said as a florist arrived.
‘Delegate,’ he said, taking hold of her arm.
‘But, Raffa, I—’
‘Can you delegate or not? You’re no good to me if you can’t.’
‘I can delegate.’
‘Then do so. Give the florist credit for knowing what she’s doing. You can’t handle everything single-handedly, Casey.’ His eyes lit with humour. ‘Even I can’t do that.’
He took her to his private elevator. Discreet and luxurious, it played host to one man. There were no bodyguards here, and no glass walls. There was just one man and one woman on a three-hundred-metre trip to a fabulous penthouse that took up the whole of the top floor.