Aiden’s jaw clamped tight. ‘Up we go, then.’
The elevator ride was blessedly short and horribly tense. Aiden’s dark brows remained low even as he stole sideways glimpses of her in the mirrored wall panels. Tash did her best to remain bright and carefree even though she was sure it was infuriating him further. The elevator climbed and climbed in silence and, just as Aiden opened his mouth to speak, it lurched to a stop and a happy ding ricocheted around the small space.
Saved by the bell. Literally.
The elegant doors parted and Tash all but fell out, eager to be moving again. A familiar face waited at the landing. She stepped forward and extended her cheek for Nathaniel’s waiting lips.
‘Natasha. Such a delight to have you here. An unexpected delight.’ He directed a look to his stony-faced son. ‘I was not aware that the two of you knew each other.’
‘I might say the same, Father.’
He ignored that. ‘I believe you are to create some wonders for our entry lobby, Natasha? I look forward to seeing the designs.’
‘I look forward to working with you—’ common courtesy demanded she say it ‘—both. Shall we get started?’
They turned down a long hall. ‘Your meeting with Larhills?’ Aiden murmured towards his father.
‘Conveniently delayed.’
‘Ah.’
Tash saw the older man slip his hand onto his son’s shoulder. ‘A change of fortune. I wouldn’t have appreciated missing Natasha’s visit.’
Aiden held the boardroom door respectfully. ‘How do you know each other?’
‘I knew her mother.’
I loved her mother. Tash heard the meaning behind the words ringing as clear as the elevator bell. Even Aiden narrowed his gaze as he followed them into the generously appointed boardroom overlooking the wide blue river to the leafy riverside suburb beyond it.
‘But I didn’t know of her stunning artistic talents until very recently,’ Nathaniel went on. ‘Let’s see what she can do for our shabby foyer, eh?’
She could practically smell Aiden’s frustration and confusion, and a small part of her pitied him. If not for the predatory way he’d tracked her down and tried to ask her out. If not for the likelihood that he’d toss her out on the street when he found out she was a Porter in disguise. Commission or no commission.
But the anxious furrow that he hid from his father wheedled its way into her subconscious and brought an echoing one to her brow, and she felt, for the first time, guilt for barging into their perfectly harmonious lives with her bag of secrets.
She placed her hands serenely on the polished jarrah table. Timber was too clunky and dense to have ever interested her much but she recognised the craftsman and knew his price tag. Just a pity she wasn’t planning to charge Nathaniel for this commission. No, this would be a gift from her mother to the man she’d loved.
‘Your foyer light is perfect for glasswork,’ she opened, speaking to Nathaniel. ‘Well oriented for winter light and high enough for something cascading. Something substantial.’
Aiden’s left brow peaked. ‘We’ve gone from a pair of vases to “something substantial” very quickly.’
She turned her eyes to him. ‘The space determines the piece.’
‘I would have thought I’d determine the piece,’ he pointed out, ‘being the commissioner.’
She flicked her chin up. ‘Commissioners always think that.’
Nathaniel laughed. ‘It may be your commission, Aiden, and your creative offspring, Natasha, but it’s my building. So it seems we’re equal stakeholders.’
She turned her head back to him, quite liking the idea of being partners in something with Nathaniel Moore. Even if it also meant tolerating his son. ‘You own the whole building?’
She hadn’t realised quite how wealthy the Moores were. Entire buildings in the heart of the central business district didn’t come cheap.
‘Did your price just go up?’ Aiden asked.
‘Aiden—’ Disapproving brown eyes snapped his way.
‘I’m interested because that means you don’t need to get the buy-in of the other tenants. That will save a lot of time and hassle.’
Nathaniel nodded. Satisfied and even pleased with her answer. ‘So, shall we talk design?’
* * *
In Tash’s experience, the number of times a man glanced at his watch during a business meeting was directly proportional to how important he believed he was. A man like Aiden should have been flicking his eyes down to his wrist on the minute.
But he never did. Or if he did, she never caught him at it. He gave her one hundred and ten per cent of his attention.
Nathaniel was similarly absorbed and entirely uncaring about the passing of time, it seemed. But at the back of her mind, she knew what ninety minutes of a company’s two top personnel must be worth.
‘I think I have enough to get started with,’ she said. ‘I can email you some early designs next week.’
‘Bring them in,’ Nathaniel volunteered and Aiden’s eyes narrowed. ‘We can have lunch next time. It’s a bit late to have it now.’
Not if you asked her gurgling stomach. She’d been too nervous to eat beforehand. Still, there were more than a dozen cafés between here and the railway station. Hopefully, their kitchens would still be open. ‘Okay. That sounds lovely.’
Aiden frowned again. If he kept that up, he was going to mar that spectacular forehead perpetually.
Their goodbyes were brief; she could hardly give Nathaniel the open-armed hug she wanted to in an office full of eyes—even if his all-seeing son weren’t standing right there—and so she left him standing as she’d found him, on the landing to MooreCo’s floor. Aiden summoned the elevator for her and then held the door as it opened. As if to make sure she actually got in it. When she did, he stepped in as well.
‘You must have somewhere better to be,’ she hinted. Somewhere other than stalking her.
‘I’ll call you a cab,’ he murmured.
‘I’m taking the train.’
He stayed on her heels as she stepped out into the foyer. ‘I’ll walk you to the station.’
‘I’m stopping for something to eat.’
‘Great. I’m starving.’
She slid her glance sideways at him. Subtle. Most men at least feigned some reason to hang around her long enough to hit her up. Aiden Moore didn’t even bother with excuses. She slammed the brakes on his galloping moves.
‘I’m not going to go out with you, Aiden.’
He turned. ‘I don’t recall offering.’
‘No. You just assumed. Our relationship is professional.’
Speaking of excuses...
His pale eyes narrowed. ‘It’s just lunch, Natasha. I’m hardly going to proposition you over a toasted sandwich.’
She straightened her shoulders. ‘In my experience that’s exactly how it goes.’
The assumption. The entitlement.
His head tipped. Something flickered across his expression. ‘Then you’ve had the wrong experiences.’
She laughed. ‘Hard to disagree.’
She spent the last four years of high school disappointing the raging hormones of boys who