Now…
‘A vase,’ she said. ‘If you think I’m interested in running your errands, Max, you obviously need a large dose of cold water.’
For a moment he just stood there and she knew, just knew, that it was going to be a rerun of the last time they’d worked together; he said something dumb, she responded like an outraged cat, spitting and arching her back, then he blew up.
And she felt nothing but regret.
‘Since your aim is as bad as your timing,’ he said, after a monumental pause that had probably been no more than a heartbeat but which had seemed to stretch for a hundred years, ‘maybe we should take the cold shower as read.’
Her timing?
‘My timing is off? I like that! You were the one who couldn’t wait. One kiss, a token, how hard could that be?’
No! No…Do not remind him of that foolishness…
‘My mistake. Just tell me when and we’ll seal the contract.’
Tell him it was a joke. That you didn’t mean it…
Now!
But her gaze was riveted to his mouth, her own lips burning with a lifetime of unrequited longing, of denial, and with her breath caught in her throat she was unable to speak.
‘Your call,’ he prompted, clearly in no hurry.
It was enough to break the spell. With extreme care, she said, ‘Thanks. I’ll let you know.’
‘Any time,’ he said, then turned away before she could respond, taking the rest of the stairs in a couple of strides.
By the time she’d caught up with him on the top floor where the offices were situated she’d recovered her composure, had reminded herself that this was supposed to be a working supper. Posted a mental note to keep a curb on her tongue.
It would probably get easier with practice.
In the meantime, Meridia.
‘Are you-we-doing the catering for this big gala dinner and ball Emma is throwing to launch her “Queen’s Charity”?’ she asked, focussing on business.
‘I’m signing the contract on Monday. Do you want to come?’
‘To the ball?’
Was he asking her…?
‘I imagine Emma will want you there.’ Then, as she hesitated, ‘She adores you, Louise.’ Oh, right, just more propaganda on behalf of the family.
‘Of course I’ll go,’ she said. ‘Who in their right mind would give up a chance to buy a new dress?’
Most people would have taken her response at face value. The look Max gave her suggested that he was not so easily fooled.
‘All right, Max. I’ll be there for her.’
Just for Emma.
After a moment he nodded, accepting that she was sincere. It was frightening how easily he could read her.
‘Good. But I was asking if you want to come with me to Meridia on Monday.’
‘Oh, I see.’
It was unnerving how much she’d wanted him to be asking her to the ball as his partner. Still sixteen and waiting for her prom night Prince Charming. Still yearning to feel his arms around her. Instead she got a business meeting…
‘Well, it would be useful.’ Then, forcing herself to keep to the point, ‘Actually, since we’re doing the catering I’d like to discuss the possibility of a behind-the-scenes-in-the-palace-kitchens feature with the royal PR people. The work involved in putting on a royal gala ball. If you’re serious about moving into Meridia-’
‘I’m serious. You’re right; it’s the obvious place to start.’
‘Then the “Queen’s Charity” tie-in would be exactly the moment to announce the fact.’
‘Hold on. It’s a little premature to be thinking that far ahead.’
‘It’s never too soon for thought, Max. You have to take advantage of media at the moment when they want something from you.’ She saw his doubt. ‘It’s not until June and the feature wouldn’t appear until the week of the gala. You can drop the news into an interview I’ll set up for you to talk about that. That’s if you’re serious-’
‘I told you I’m serious!’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Good. Then we need to make the most of the moment, ride on the coat tails of the publicity that will generate. Whatever happens, the royal connection will add lustre to the outside-event catering side of the business.’
He still looked doubtful. ‘Do you really think Sebastian will allow photographers, journalists, to roam loose in the palace? Isn’t there a danger that we’ll be perceived as using our royal connection for commercial gain? I’m concerned it will hurt Emma.’
‘Just the kitchens, a glimpse of the food we’ll be serving-we can photograph that here. Some behind-the-scenes pictures of the banqueting room being made ready would be good, but since that’s already part of the tour visitors can take it’s hardly likely to prove a problem.’ He didn’t look convinced. ‘Sebastian will want publicity for the charity and it’s the charity I’ll focus on. Obviously the copyright of the photographs would be invested in that. The major lifestyle magazines will pay huge money for a royal feature like this.’
‘You’ve been giving this a lot of thought.’
‘This is PR 101, Max. Sebastian’s a modern monarch. He knows he’s going to have to sell his country to tourists, industrialists, bankers. Put together royalty and romance with fabulous food and you have an unbeatable combination. Add a charming young queen launching a charity to help the world’s poor and Meridia is the winner.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Five minutes. You’ve come up with all that in five minutes?’
‘That’s just the thinking. I still have to make the connections, set up the deal. Do the work.’ She managed a smile. ‘I’m going to need every minute of that three weeks.’ Then, before he could press her for more, ‘We’ll all be winners, Max. And besides, I won’t have to persuade Sebastian,’ she added. ‘That is one job I’m happy to leave in the capable hands of your little sister. She owes me.’
‘For transforming her from a rather plain duckling into a stunning swan?’
‘Emma isn’t plain,’ she said, scolding him. ‘Far from it. She just needed a little help with her confidence; all I did was bring out the inner princess.’ Then, unable to resist fishing for a compliment from him, ‘You noticed how lovely she looked?’
‘When Sebastian introduced her as his future queen at his coronation the entire world noticed. You did a great job.’
‘She was such a beautiful bride,’ she said, unable to resist a little sigh of satisfaction, not just because her efforts had been so amply rewarded, but that Max had been generous enough to credit her with the transformation.
‘It’s what you do, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Make people take notice. Create an image.’
‘More than an image, Max. My job is to create a feeling, an “I want” response, to choreograph a reflection in words and pictures that reinforce the desire so that when anyone thinks of the ultimate in a rare, luxurious dining experience, anywhere in the world, the first name that comes to mind is Bella Lucia.’
‘Can you really do that?’
‘I’ll give it my best shot.’ Then, feeling a little self-conscious at having made a pitch to someone she’d known all her life, she turned away, indicated his laptop. ‘Can I borrow that to go online, do a little research?’
‘Now?’
She stopped, looked at him. ‘Is that your stock answer, Max?’ Then, quickly, ‘Yes, now.’
‘I thought…’
‘What? That we were just going to have another cosy supper?’ Hadn’t he learned from what had happened yesterday? ‘When I say I’m having a working supper, I mean working. Since you appear to be more interested in the
