One Winter's Sunrise. Alison Roberts
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hated that people like Andie thought he was stingy. Any remaining reservations he might hold about the party had to go. He needed to take action before this unfair reputation become so deeply entrenched he’d never free himself from it. ‘Let’s hope the seasonal name-calling eases if I go ahead with the lunch.’
She held up a finger in warning. ‘It wouldn’t appease everyone. Those cynical journalists might not be easily swayed.’
He scowled. ‘I can’t please everyone.’ But he found himself, irrationally, wanting to please her.
‘It might help if you followed through with a visible, ongoing relationship with a charity. If the media could see...could see...’
Her eyes narrowed in concentration. He waited for the end of her sentence but it wasn’t forthcoming. ‘See what?’
‘Sorry,’ she said, shaking her head as if bringing herself back to earth. ‘My thoughts tend to run faster than my words sometimes when I’m deep in the creative zone.’
‘I get it,’ he said, though he wasn’t sure what the hell being in the creative zone meant.
‘I meant your critics might relent if they could see your gesture was genuine.’
He scowled. ‘But it will be genuine.’
‘You know it and I know it but they might see it as just another publicity gimmick.’ Her eyes narrowed again and he gave her time to think. ‘What if you didn’t actually seek publicity for this day? You know—no invitations or press releases. Let the details leak. Tantalise the media.’
‘For a designer, you seem to know a lot about publicity,’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘When you work in magazines you pick up a lot about both seeking and giving publicity. But your marketing people would have their own ideas, I’m sure.’
‘I should talk it over with them,’ he said.
‘As it’s only six weeks until Christmas, and this would be a big event to pull together, may I suggest there’s not a lot of discussion time left?’
‘You’re right. I know. But it’s a big deal.’ So much bigger for him personally than she realised.
‘You’re seriously considering going ahead with it?’
He so much preferred it to the Z-list celebrity party. ‘Yes. Let’s do it.’
She clapped her hands together. ‘I’m so glad. We can make it a real dream-come-true for your guests.’
‘What about you and your business partners? You’d have to work on Christmas Day.’
‘Speaking for me, I’d be fine with working. True spirit of Christmas and all that. I’ll have to speak to Gemma and Eliza, but I think they’d be behind it too.’ Securing Dominic Hunt’s business for Party Queens was too important for them to refuse.
‘What about caterers and so on?’ he asked.
‘The hospitality industry works three hundred and sixty-five days a year. It shouldn’t be a problem. There are also people who don’t celebrate Christmas as part of their culture who are very happy to work—especially for holiday pay rates. You don’t have to worry about all that—that’s our job.’
‘And the guests? How would we recruit them?’ He was about to say he could talk to people in Brisbane, where he was heavily involved in a homeless charity, but stopped himself. That was too connected to the secret part of his life he had no desire to share.
‘I know the perfect person to help—my older sister, Hannah, is a social worker. She would know exactly which charities to liaise with. I think she would be excited to be involved.’
It was her. Andie. He would not be considering this direction if it wasn’t for her. The big glitzy party had seemed so wrong. She made him see what could be right.
‘Could we set up a meeting with your sister?’ he asked.
‘I can do better than that,’ she said with a triumphant toss of her head that set her oversized earrings swaying. ‘Every Wednesday night is open house dinner at my parents’ house. Whoever of my siblings can make it comes. Sometimes grandparents and cousins too. I know Hannah will be there tonight and I’m planning to go too. Why don’t you come along?’
‘To your family dinner?’ His first thought was to say no. Nothing much intimidated him—but meeting people’s families was near the top of the list.
‘Family is an elastic term for the Newmans. Friends, waifs and strays are always welcome at the table.’
What category would he be placed under? His memory of being a real-life stray made him wince. Friend? Strictly speaking, if circumstances were different, he’d want to be more than friends with Andie. Would connecting with her family create an intimacy he might later come to regret?
He looked down at his watch. Thought about his plan to return to the office.
‘We need to get things moving,’ she prompted.
‘I would like to meet your sister tonight.’
Her wide smile lit her eyes. ‘I have a really good feeling about this.’
‘Do you always go on your feelings?’ he asked.
She took off her sunglasses so he was treated to the directness of her gaze. ‘All the time. Don’t you?’
If he acted on his feelings he would be insisting they go to dinner, just the two of them. He would be taking her in his arms. Tasting her lovely mouth. Touching. Exploring. But that wouldn’t happen.
He trusted his instincts when it came to business. But trusting his feelings when it came to women had only led to bitterness, betrayal and the kind of pain he never wanted to expose himself to again.
No to feeling. Yes to pleasant relationships that mutually fulfilled desires and were efficiently terminated before emotions ever became part of it. And with none of the complications that came with still having to work with that person. Besides, he suspected the short-term liaison that was all he had to offer would not be acceptable to Andie. She had for ever written all over her.
Now it was her turn to look at her watch. ‘I’ll call my mother to confirm you’ll be joining us for dinner. How about I swing by and pick you up at around six?’
He thought about his four o’clock meeting. ‘That’s early for dinner.’
‘Not when there are kids involved.’
‘Kids?’
‘I have a niece and two nephews. One of the nephews belongs to Hannah. He will almost certainly be there, along with his cousins.’
Dominic wasn’t sure exactly what he was letting himself in for. One thing was for certain—he couldn’t have seen himself going to a family dinner with any of Party Planners Numbers One to Three. And he suspected he might be in for more than one surprise from gorgeous Party Planner Number Four.
Andie got up from the chair. Smoothed down her white trousers. They were nothing as revealing as her flyaway skirt but made no secret of her slender shape.
‘By the way, I’m apologising in advance for my car.’
He frowned. ‘Why apologise?’
‘I glimpsed your awesome sports car in the garage as I came in yesterday. You might find my hand-me-down hatchback a bit of a comedown.’
He frowned. ‘I didn’t come into this world behind the wheel of an expensive European sports car. I’m sure your hatchback will be perfectly fine.’
Just how did she see him? His public image—Scrooge, miser, rich guy—was so at odds with the person he knew himself to be. That he wanted her to know. But he could not reveal himself to her without uncovering secrets he would rather