The Boss's Christmas Proposal. Allison Leigh
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she supplied with a bored clip. “And this is Nigel Winters.” She spoke for the man, as if she did not trust him to speak for himself. “And as you can see, we’re in the middle of a discussion.”
Kimi wanted to swipe her hand down her skirt to wipe away the memory of that cold-fish handshake. Instead, she looked curiously at the charts on the table. Grace had already told her that the department worked as an ensemble regardless of who the lead person on a project might be. “Is this the Nguyen wedding?” She had been familiarizing herself with the details of the four-hundred-guest wedding to be held before Christmas when Grace had sent her to Greg’s office.
Tanya nodded. “The problem is—”
“—there is no problem,” Charity cut her off. “We’re just finalizing some minor details.” She swept up the floor charts and strode to the door. “Come along, Nigel. Tanya. We don’t have time to sit around all morning twiddling our thumbs.”
“Delightful meeting you,” Nigel said quickly, as if sneaking it in before Charity could stop him. Then like two scurrying rabbits, he and Tanya sped after the departing woman.
As far as Kimi could tell, Charity seemed rather misnamed.
Kimi went to her desk and pulled the top file closer. An hour later, she had read through everything. If the quantity of special events on the department’s plate were anything to go by, the Taka Kyoto was already proving to be a success.
Charity and crew had yet to return. She pushed away from the desk and started toward the coffee urn situated on a long counter that ran the back length of the room when Grace called her name. Kimi changed course and walked over to Grace’s door. “Yes?”
“I suppose your coat is up in your room?” She barely waited for Kimi’s surprised nod. “Run up and get it and meet me in the lobby. A car will take us to Osaka. I’d like you to sit in on a tour operator’s meeting with me. Bring the mayoral luncheon and the Nguyen wedding files along. We’ll review them on the drive.”
Pleased, Kimi quickly sifted through the files on her desk, found the appropriate ones and took the service elevator up to her floor though it was less conveniently located than the lobby elevators were. The twenty-first floor was as still and silent as it had been since she had arrived, though a slender, elegantly decorated Christmas tree had appeared just across from the elevator bank. She had not verified it, but she was certain that she was the only one on the floor. By placing her in a completely different location than any other staff members who lived on site, Mr. Misbuttoned Sherman was following true to form by pointing out that she really was not one of them.
And unfortunately, that particular sentiment was evidently more widely shared than Kimi had anticipated.
Within minutes, she had retrieved her coat, exchanged the project folders for her laptop inside her briefcase and was heading back down again. She hurried back to the lobby only to slow her pace decorously when she spotted Grace in conversation with Greg.
Not that she had expected otherwise, but his starched white shirt now looked very correctly buttoned beneath the dovegray tie he wore. She kept her gaze lowered deferentially as she stopped beside Grace; no one else need know that in doing so, her gaze was free to roam the undeniably perfect fit of Greg’s dark gray trousers. The only thing marring the lines was the hand he had shoved in one pocket.
Or perhaps mar was the wrong term.
She moistened her lips and looked away from the way the fine wool tightened across his hips.
“Mark my words, Greg,” Grace was saying. “The president of Kobayashi Media will find some reason to blow off the mayoral luncheon. Oh, there’ll be plenty of perfectly offered apologies and excuses, but I’ll bet you a week’s salary that he’s a no-show.”
“Excuse me.” Kimi interrupted the breath that Grace had stopped to draw. “Shall I see if the driver is ready?”
“Thank you, dear.” Grace did not look twice at Kimi.
The speculative glance that Greg gave her as she moved away, however, stuck in her mind throughout the drive to nearby Osaka, through Grace’s meeting and through the return trip back again.
By the time their driver left them at the hotel once more, Kimi still was not certain why Grace had wanted to include her in the tour operator’s meeting. But at the very least, it had been an interesting way to spend the morning, and it had been well away from the disturbing Mr. Sherman.
“I never realized how resorts and hotels vied for that sort of business,” she admitted to Grace as they returned to their offices.
“We’re all in it for a buck. Or, a yen—” Grace smiled “—as the case may be. Tourism is alive and well, even among—or particularly among—the high-end consumer that we court. The president of the local tour association is full of complaints that the Taka Kyoto is too cosmopolitan. Of course, he’s related by marriage to a local official who bitterly opposed the building of the Taka in the first place. Your presence there this morning was a not-so subtle reminder to them that while the Taka is cosmopolitan and international, its roots are nonetheless of Japan. Taka is an important name in this country, and not just because of the TAKA-Hanson corporation.” Grace patted Kimi’s shoulder and pulled open the door to the stairwell. “Don’t look so disappointed, dear.”
“I am not disappointed,” Kimi lied.
But Grace wasn’t fooled. “Of course you are.” Her voice echoed along with their footsteps. “You’d probably like everyone to forget who you are. To accept you purely based on your strengths and abilities.”
“Is it that obvious?”
Grace smiled slightly. “Maybe not obvious, but perfectly understandable. Everyone wants to be loved unconditionally.”
Kimi had never felt unloved by anyone who mattered to her. “Well-earned respect is what interests me,” she admitted.
They had reached the lower level. Kimi couldn’t help but look toward Greg’s office, but the door was closed.
“The fact that you realize respect has to be earned is to your credit,” Grace was saying, oblivious to Kimi’s furtive glances down the hall. “Whether I told you my reasons for wanting you with me or not, you represented the Taka name admirably this morning.”
Kimi skipped a little to catch up to her supervisor. “But I barely said a word.”
“You didn’t have to, my dear. They were all watching every move you did or did not make. How you greeted the other attendees, whether you were appropriately modest and deferential, whether you held to their highest ideals of good manners. And you did. You are a Japanese woman bearing a venerable name. They can find in you a suitable ‘face’ for the hotel, something that, for some, has been lacking.”
“My father would be surprised to hear that. He finds me distressingly Americanized.” She trailed after Grace into her office.
Grace’s smile widened. “Then perhaps you combine the best of both worlds. The drive was useful, as well. I’m confident that you know the details of these two events inside and out. And since Charity’s Japanese is still considerably less than perfect, I’m going to make you the point person for the Nguyen wedding.” Her gaze skipped past Kimi’s suddenly slack jaw. “Oh, good. Greg. I was hoping to catch you.”
Kimi barely kept herself from whirling around.
“What’s this about the Nguyen wedding?” he asked.
“I’m making Kimi the point person.”
Kimi wanted to cringe. Even after just those few minutes with Charity, she could well imagine the other woman’s reaction at being replaced at all, much less by Kimi. “Grace, I appreciate the confidence, but I have never—”
“Stop.” Grace waved her hand. “We’ll discuss it later. Just trust me when I warn you that, like Charity, you’ll spend most of your time answering a dozen inane