“Good morning, Erin.” He motioned to the chairs across from his desk. “Please have a seat.”
She sat, primly angling her legs toward the back of the chair and crossing her ankles.
“I have a new project. Probably the most important project of my life.”
Her eyebrows rose. But a prudent subcontractor of his hotel development firm, she didn’t pounce at his first words. She waited.
“The property in question is old and in need of so many repairs that work will be nonstop. It’s in London. Formerly family-owned—” He nearly choked on those words. He wouldn’t explain that it was his family who had owned it. The horrible truth would come out in good time. Maybe in London, after they’d been at the hotel a few days, when the sting of it wouldn’t be so sharp, so cutting. “It passed to the hands of an incompetent and fell into bankruptcy. I scooped it up for a song.”
She smiled. She loved a good business deal as much as he did.
“I want the grand opening to occur on Christmas Eve.”
At that her mouth dipped. He was telling her they had weeks, not months, as they usually had. Still, she’d always risen to every challenge.
“Christmas Eve? Four weeks from now?”
“Yes.”
She might have risen to every other challenge, but today she pushed herself up off the chair. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington. I’m booked.”
“Booked?” He stood too. It wasn’t that he didn’t realize she had other clients. He simply assumed the high fee he paid her always propelled him to the top of her job list.
“You’re talking about me spending the next weeks in London.” She shook her head, causing her curtain of shiny red hair to sway. “Christmas in London. It’s not possible.” To soften the blow, she smiled at him, a quick, professional, no-hard-feelings lift of her lips.
For the first time since he’d known her, he reacted to the fact that she was beautiful. He’d noticed before. But something about the spark in her eyes at refusing him shifted her from beautiful to stunning and caused an unexpected scramble of his pulse.
Ridiculous!
He took a quiet breath to clear his head. Hugo Harrington didn’t mix b
usiness with pleasure, and the crackle of heat that raced through his blood definitely signaled pleasure.
Had to be an aberration.
“What do you mean, not possible?”
She raised her hands. “I have things scheduled. It is the holiday season. Plus, you typically give me more lead time.”
“There’s a reason I didn’t.” A master at winning arguments and swaying decisions, he motioned for her to sit again. “The property became available suddenly. I put in a bid they couldn’t refuse, paid cash, and voilà, it was mine. I didn’t have lead time.”
“Maybe a later grand opening date?”
He gaped at her. “No! In its heyday, the hotel was renowned for its elaborate Christmas Eve celebrations. That’s the prime time for the grand opening. The best way to demonstrate that the hotel everyone remembers is back!”
And the perfect way to remind his brother and sister of their shared past. A way to soften everyone enough that they could have the kind of conversation needed to clear the air.
Her brow furrowed. “Maybe next Christmas Eve?”
The weird heat crackled through his blood again. It was almost as if he enjoyed her arguing with him.
Couldn’t be. He loved haggling and bartering. But he never argued with subcontractors. He paid them. They did what he wanted.
He spoke logically and concisely, as he motioned for her to sit again because she hadn’t taken the last cue. “This hotel is very important to me.”
Once again, she didn’t sit.
His nerves jangled with annoyance this time. “You could even say it’s personal.”