Blame It on the Champagne. Nina Harrington
Читать онлайн книгу.
Must-Do list
• Make sure that the new spiral box trees are arranged very elegantly either side of the main entrance. This is bound to impress the clients and set the right tone.
• Try and forget how much these two trees cost and watch out for dogs!
• Come up with a brilliant plan to shamelessly but unobtrusively use these wine folks to bring in more business.
IT WAS THE long green twirly plants on sticks that were the problem.
Rick had worked out a way of lifting up the edge of the heavy planter using a wooden door wedge then tipping it forward just enough to use the pot as a lever, but the moment he started to roll the bottom rim of the china pot along on one edge, the plant started waving out of control in all directions across the pavement like some demented flagpole, causing mayhem with the pedestrians.
It was amazing how the street seemed to fill up with girls pushing baby buggies, dog walkers and children in the space of ten minutes, but after two narrow escapes where his secretary had to dodge out of the way or risk getting a tree branch in her eye, Rick had managed to roll one planter all the way from the pavement to the patio without causing serious injury to people or the china base.
‘Brilliant,’ she gushed, trying to catch her breath after waving away a dog with a full bladder. ‘One small step and we’re there!’
Rick scratched his chin. ‘Tip and shuffle. I tip the pot back and then roll it slightly forward until the edge is on the step. But someone has to hold the greenery out of the way when it swings onto the step. Two man job. Are you up for it?’
He looked up into her face and his breath caught. Close up, he could see that her flawless creamy skin was not a product of pristine grooming and clever make-up but natural beauty which went beyond pretty without being in-your-face gorgeous. The splash of cream at her neck was a perfect contrast to her brown hair and eyebrows and seemed to make her pale blue eyes even more startling.
He had never seen eyes that colour on a girl before but everything about her screamed out that he was talking to a real English rose.
‘Absolutely,’ she replied with a quick nod and reached for the bottom of the tree. ‘Let’s do it. Ready? Yes? Go! Oh, ouch. It got me. Almost there. Done!’
Rick stood back, peered at the pot from several angles then leant forward and shifted it to the left slightly.
‘That’s better.’
‘Better! It’s fantastic. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along. Thank you so much… Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I don’t even know your name…’
‘Just call me Rick,’ he replied with a wave of one hand. ‘And it was my pleasure, Miss…’
‘Rick! You found it.’
He half turned as Angie bounded up the pavement towards them, her huge shoulder bag bouncing over one shoulder and a bulging document folder stuffed under her arm and stretched out her hand towards his secretary.
‘Miss Elwood, lovely to meet you. Angie Roberts—we talked on the phone earlier. Thanks again for fitting us in at such short notice. What a fabulous house. And I can see that you have already met my boss.’
‘Thank you, Angie, and welcome to Elwood House. If you would like to come inside and…’ She paused, opened her mouth, closed it again, inhaled slowly and turned back to face him. ‘Your boss?’
Rick pushed his shoulders back and glanced sideways at the high gloss painted door of the house whose porch he was standing in. The words ‘Elwood House’ were engraved in a curvy elegant font on a small brass plaque attached to the stone portico.
It would appear that he had arrived at his destination.
And his English rose was one of the Elwood dynasty.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. So this was the hardened old wine merchant he was going to be making his sales pitch to! Well, that showed him. How wrong could he be?
‘Rick Burgess.’ He grinned into his secretary’s stunned face. ‘Apparently you are expecting us.’
Rick braced his shoulder on the ornate white marble fireplace in what had been the elegant, huge formal dining room of Elwood House and held the colour brochure for Rick Burgess Wines in one hand as he watched Saskia Elwood glide effortlessly around the sunlit room.
The back split in her slender, elegant pencil skirt fanned open just enough to give him a tantalising glimpse of a pair of very long slender legs above shapely ankles. Not immodest. Oh no. Demure and classy, but tantalising all the same. Just enough to fire up his imagination.
She was impressive.
Every one of his sales team she spoke to looked away from the press release and winemaker portfolios that Angie had passed around to smile up at Saskia and spend a few minutes chatting before going back to their work with that smile still on their lips.
The men and women in the room knew talent when they saw it. Not everyone was able to put a guest instantly at ease. They had expected Saskia to treat them as sales people who were worthy of a cup of instant coffee and a plain biscuit. Well, she had confounded their expectations by treating every one of his four-person team as a guest and potential client in her private meeting venue. Their coffee and tea had been served from silverware with the most delicious homemade pastries and canapés.
Very clever. He liked clever. Even if it was obvious to him what she was doing.
His sales people were going to be working with clients from the finest hotels and private homes around London, and Saskia had already worked that out. She might be hosting a sales meeting, but there was no reason why she could not sell them the benefits of Elwood House at the same time.
Their hostess was elegant, warm, unpretentious and genuinely interested in her clients. Attentive to their needs, but not intrusive or overfamiliar.
It was precisely what the hospitality industry was all about. And Saskia Elwood had it in spades. He loved watching experts at work. He always had. And the lovely lady of the house was at that moment giving him a master class in exactly the type of customer service he was going to expect in the flagship London face of Burgess Wine.
He glanced back down at his phone. Ten more emails. All from his mother. All wanting urgent updates.
Rick exhaled slowly. A well buried part of his brain knew that she was concerned about him, while the upfront and only too blatant part screamed out a message loud and clear: They don’t think you can pull this off. After two years of hard work you are still the black sheep who is never going to be taken seriously. So you might as well give up now and go back to the sports where you are the best!
No. Not going to happen. He had made a commitment and he was going to see it through, no matter what it took. Rick Burgess had not risen to the top of his sport by being a quitter.
Strange how his gaze shifted automatically up from the screen towards the slim woman in the pale grey suit, refilling an elegant coffee pot.
Her light brown straight hair was tied loosely back in a shell clip at the base of her neck, which on any other woman would look too casual, but somehow looked exactly right. She knew exactly what she looked like and had taken time to perfect her appearance. Subtle day time make-up, but with skin that clear she didn’t need anything but a slick of colour on her lips. This woman knew that her eyes were her best feature and made the best of them. Her eyes were totally riveting. Those eyes captured your attention and held it tight.
Just as they were doing right now as she looked across and flashed him a glance.
Rick slid into a comfortable dining chair and instantly refocused on the business proposal, making notes on the points still to be resolved as he scanned down the snag list. But all the while his left hand tapped out a beat on the fine table and curiosity pricked his skin.
Maybe