Ray shrugged. “Add it to the budget.”
Garrett shook his head. That’s exactly the attitude that led to the studio’s teetering reputation. “Ray, I love you like a brother, but the days of open budgets died with my dad. You have two weeks and one million. I’m closing your set to all nonessential personnel. Get your people under control, and get it done.”
* * *
Tori popped a candy-coated peanut in her mouth and surveyed the candy table. Perfect. Sticking to the colors red, black, silver and white, she’d used martini-shaped glasses large and small to create her design. Drops, gummies and foil-wrapped candies filled the dishes. White letters filled with dark chocolate-covered mints spelled out RAY. A black satin table cover and silver and red ribbons pulled the whole look together.
No sooner did she step back than guests converged on the treats. Oohs and aahs followed her retreat. In spite of her less than fortuitous encounter with Black, Tori counted tonight as a success. She’d received lots of compliments on the food and given their card to three prospective clients.
Reminded of Black, she moved to the entry and lingered near the living room where she had a view of the front door. Matt had found the claim ticket for the Maserati in his jacket pocket and brought it to her to pass on to the owner. She grimaced, as if she needed another run-in with Black.
As if her thoughts had conjured the man, he suddenly appeared from the crowd. And he was headed directly for her.
She summoned a smile. “Mr. Black, is there anything I can get for you?”
He lifted a dark brow at the use of his name. He glanced to the left where the food filled the table and a crowd surrounded the candy display, and then dropped to the martini glass she’d filled for herself.
“This will do.” Taking the glass from her, he dumped half the contents into his hand. “Thanks.”
Surprised by his sweet tooth and offended by his rudeness, she warned him, “Careful, I’m a peanut fiend, so I hope you aren’t allergic.”
“Nope. Did you enjoy driving my car, Ms. Randall?”
“It was the highlight of my night.” She stifled any reaction to the use of her name, unable to determine if it was a good thing or bad.
“Which reminds me.” With a sheepish smile she dug into her cleavage and retrieved his claim ticket. “I forgot to give you this.”
He accepted the paper, looked from it to her bust. Heat flared in his gray eyes before they lifted to meet her gaze.
“Sorry,” she murmured, shrugging, “no pockets.”
“No need to apologize.” He flicked the ticket with his thumb. “I may have to keep this as a memento of the evening.”
Okay, what did that mean? Good gracious. Was he hitting on her? Wouldn’t Lauren love that? As for Tori, sure he tipped the studometer, but his aloof, brooding attitude triggered one of her hot buttons, putting him off-limits even more than the fact he was a client.
Of course there was that gorgeous car. “If you need a designated driver, I’m happy to be of assistance.”
“Do I appear drunk to you, Ms. Randall?” The gravel in his voice took on a gruffness.
Oops, she’d upset him again. “No, but a girl can hope.”
“Very amusing.”
She shrugged and was rewarded by him taking the last of her candy.
“You don’t mind, do you?” he challenged her.
“Of course not.” Jerk. “I can get you one of your own if you’d like.”
“No, yours is good enough.”
Was he trying to outdo himself in boorish behavior or was it simply his default mode? Whichever, charming he was not. Then again she didn’t remember ever hearing the word attached to his name. Hardworking, brilliant and brooding were the words used to describe him. Usually as a director. Looking into his pale eyes she didn’t doubt the truth of them.
As a guest, he could use a lesson in playing nice with others.
“Good night, Ms. Randall.” He stepped past her toward the door.
“Drive safely, Mr. Black,” she said to his back. She wouldn’t want anything to happen to his beautiful car.
LATE MONDAY AFTERNOON Tori worked on a spreadsheet displaying the menu for a fiftieth wedding anniversary scheduled for Thursday. She was making the final notes to the grocery list when the bell over the front door sounded.
“Be right there,” she called out as she took a moment to save her file. A quick glance through the glass wall of her office revealed the visitor was a man, but he had his back to her. By Arrangement rarely got drop by traffic. The nature of their business generally took them to their clients. In fact Lauren was out with a prospective client now, which left Tori to handle the man haunting their showroom.
Her toes searched under her desk for her shoes. She ended up kicking them farther back and bent to retrieve the ballerina flats. Happy she chose to wear black jeans today, which were slightly dressier than regular jeans, she walked out of her office, tugging at the hem of her olive sweater as she greeted the visitor.
“Welcome— You.” She stopped short at the sight of Garrett Black. He stood tall and broad in the middle of the showroom in another ill-fitting suit. “What are you doing here?” Hearing the strident tone, she cringed. “I mean, Mr. Black, how can I help you?”
“Ms. Randall.” He glanced around the converted restaurant, taking in the glass offices, the tables dressed in different styles for special occasions, the well-stocked bar. He lifted a brow at her.
“We occasionally host events here,” she explained. “Or we used to.” She and Lauren bought the restaurant four years ago for the kitchen because they’d outgrown her apartment kitchen for food prep. Business continued to bloom, and after six months, the front was converted to offices, storage and the current showroom.
He nodded and continued to wander. At one of the tables he picked up a fork, set it back down. His presence confused her. She and Lauren had great ideas outlined for the film festival, but the next series of meetings with Obsidian weren’t scheduled until the first part of December.
“Would you like to sit?” she asked him.
“No.” He faced her, shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “I’ve come about the toe prints.”
She blinked at him. “Toe prints?”
“Yes. Upon inspection of my vehicle this morning I found toe prints on the carpet of the driver’s side. I wanted to let you know I’ll be forwarding the cleaning bill.”
Tori listened with growing outrage. He had to be kidding. “No,” she corrected, keeping her tone easy. “Remember, I was barefoot when we met, but you stopped me before I got in the car.” His precious oh-so-fabulous car.
Aggravating man. How petty of him to try to get a car cleaning out of her, especially when money wasn’t the issue. He was upset because she’d made him feel. Anger, arousal, humor, she’d seen flashes of each emotion in the brief conversations they’d had.
Whatever had happened to him, and it went way further back than his accident, he’d cut himself off from emotion. She imagined the accident and losing his dad only added to the pain he hid behind a brooding facade.
All too familiar with the destructive force of repressed feelings, she easily recognized the anguish simmering in his silver eyes. She felt for him, but not even his manly beauty tempted her to go there again.
Caring