She took a big breath of the salty, clean San Francisco air as she walked out of the building to her car, her irritation fading as it sank in that she’d done it. Gabe had given her the contract. She was still in business.
Just as quickly as her euphoria arrived came the stomach-clenching reality of what she now had to do. She had three weeks to execute one of the most complex events she’d ever created.
A feat that might or might not be possible.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT FEW days passed in a blur of logistical activity. Alex met with the graphic designer, finalized the invitations and took a last look at the guest list. It was missing a few VIPs the other agency had overlooked, as well as included a few undesirables she didn’t think should make the final five hundred. Gabe had seen the list twice, according to Danielle, so she made the changes, marked it as final and sent it off to the printer.
The most pressing job done, she called her two Manhattan-based staff and told them to get on a plane. Convinced her transplanted New Yorker friend Susan James, one of the most talented designers she’d ever worked with, to do the event decor with her. Then she secured the catering company Susan preferred and signed a contract with the matching firm.
And breathed.
The pure scope of the event left her and her team exhausted and stumbling into bed in the wee hours every night. She wouldn’t call their execution flawless, exactly—there were just too many moving parts and not enough time to get them done. Flying by the seat of their pants was a better description. Just the way she liked it. Except her clients usually weren’t overbearing control freaks—like Gabe—who had to have their hands in everything. Everything. Earn my trust, he’d said. She was trying very, very hard to do that. But Gabe’s insane schedule meant they had to take everything to him in between meetings and after he’d come up from the winery at night, which meant late, late nights for everyone. Not to mention his habit of disappearing when he said he was going to be somewhere. The power’s out at the winery, Danielle had said one day, “supply problems” another.
He was making them crazy. Putting them behind by adding a whole other layer of complexity. So Alex put Operation Control Freak into effect. She deluged Gabe with paper, every single piece of minutia approval she could find: the color of the napkins on the bar, the type of chocolate in the gift bags, the musical selections for the band. At some point, she figured, he’d give in.
He didn’t. He powered through it all in his own sweet time with a grim determination that made her wonder if he was the one who was superhuman. So she gave up on that plan and took matters into her own hands. Only give Gabe crucial things he must see, she told her staff. Give me the rest.
He was still killing them.
On Tuesday he made an imperious demand for Ligurian anchovies to be added to the appetizer list. “Ligurian, as in the coast of Italy?” she’d asked, sure he must be joking. “Is there any other?” he’d muttered back and gotten into his car. She’d bitten her lip and called the caterer. By Thursday, he still hadn’t approved the cost to fly them in and the chef was having a hissy fit about the fact he still hadn’t okayed the final menu. Her fireworks supplier was threatening to double the price if they didn’t settle on a run schedule by the end of the week and her Champagne fountain, the centerpiece of her cocktail area, was apparently leaking, without a replacement structure in sight.
Total chaos.
At two a.m. on Friday, she declared herself officially brain-dead and fell into the big, soft king-size bed in the suite at the far end of the hall from Gabe’s. A wise placement, she’d decided. But her mind kept spitting out things she’d forgotten to do, so she got out of bed, grabbed her notebook and headed to the kitchen for some hot milk, which was usually foolproof in putting her to sleep.
Hot milk in hand, dosed with a liberal amount of cocoa and sugar, she turned away from the stove and walked straight into a wall. Or Gabe, to be precise. Hot cocoa went flying. Alex squealed. Gabe cursed. She jumped back, stared at his soaked T-shirt and gave a low moan.
“Please tell me I didn’t burn you.” He pulled the soaked material away from his skin, hissed in a breath as he did so and lifted it. Red, blotchy skin stared back at her, but nothing worse. “Oh, God,” she choked, shoving her mug onto the counter. “I am so sorry. I thought you were in bed.”
He grimaced. “Still working.”
Of course he was. He was a machine.
His gaze slid down over her. “You might have ruined that.”
She remembered what she was wearing. Short. Silk. Heavy on the cleavage.
Damn.
She crossed her arms over her chest. A little too late, as his focus had already moved from the curve of her breasts down over her hips and bare legs. His gaze slid leisurely back up to hers, taking in every last inch. Heat, molten heat, stole the breath from her lungs. He would be smooth. He would be generous. And he would take his time.
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. Suddenly no-touching, no-attraction clauses seemed like an abstract concept that did not pertain to this particular situation. Not when his eyes were flickering with a warning that his iron control was wavering, and a part of her wished desperately it would.
There was a period of one, maybe two seconds where she wasn’t sure where this was going to go. The air was so charged she found it too thick to breathe. She dragged in a breath because breathing was necessary. Then his face hardened and a chill fell over those amazing green eyes.
“I need to get back to work. Any milk left?”
“In the pan. Gabe—I need those approvals. The catering stuff is urgent.”
He walked to the cupboard and pulled a mug out. “I’ll give you feedback on all of it tomorrow morning.”
“It’s got to be first thing.”
“I’ll do it before my meeting in town.” He turned around. “And Lex? I think we need a dress code.”
A wave of heat engulfed her. She picked up her half-full mug—no way was she going near him to get more—and lifted her chin. “I’ll remember that the next time you have me working until two a.m.”
She flounced up the stairs and went back to bed. Her body sang with a dose of raging hormones she had no idea what to do with. Power through the list, she told herself, picking up her pad of paper. But the look on Gabe’s face kept replaying itself over and over in her head. That had been lust.
* * *
“He’s done it again.”
Emily, Alex’s star junior exec with exactly three years’ experience under her belt but about ten times that in wisdom, planted herself in front of where Alex was measuring the dance floor the next morning, an exasperated look on her face. “He told me ten a.m. to meet about the catering and Elena just informed me he’s left for the city.”
Alex straightened and pushed the hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. Gabe had also promised her feedback on three other crucial things. She was going to kill him. They could not afford to get any further behind.
“Leave it to me,” she said grimly. “He has a meeting here this afternoon. I’ll stake him out and get the sign off on all of it.”
“Great.” Emily sighed as only a twenty-three-year-old could and stretched. “If he wasn’t so good-looking I might hate him.”
“I’m past that,” Alex muttered. She was so tired she wanted someone to shoot her right now and put her out of her misery. “Call the caterer and tell her we’ll let her know on all of it today, including the anchovies.”
She wrote down her measurements, nabbed a coffee from the kitchen and sat down before she fell down. She needed a dose of her sister’s calming Zen powers. Lilly had the ability to pull her down a notch when she felt as if it was all spinning out of control.
Lilly answered on the third ring. “I was wondering if you were still alive...”
“You could always ask my boss,” Alex suggested dryly. “He’s the one trying to kill me.”
“How’s that working out?” Amusement laced her sister’s tone.
Alex chewed on the end of her pencil and stared up at the workers adjusting the netting in the vineyard. “You know how I feel about him. It’s been interesting.”
“No, I don’t, actually.” There was a pause. “Do you?”
“Lil.”
Her sister sighed. “One of these days you’re going to have to figure it out, you know.”
No, Alex disagreed silently, she didn’t. Particularly when it was now a ground rule not to.
“I worry about you, Lex,” her sister continued. “I’m worried you’re going to spend the next ten years of your life pursuing this giant ambition of yours and then realize that it’s about so much more than that.”
Here we go again. “I’m only twenty-eight. I’m supposed to be climbing the corporate ladder.”
“What about babies?”
“I don’t want babies.”
“You don’t know if you want babies. There is a whole legion of women out there putting off pregnancy for their careers. Then they wake up one morning and realize it’s too late.”
Alex shut her eyes and prayed for patience. “I know I don’t want babies. In fact, maybe I should let them harvest my eggs now so one of those poor women has a fighting chance.”