Crown Prince's Chosen Bride. Kandy Shepherd
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Eliza patted her on the shoulder. ‘Come on—you’ve done so well with your sabbatical. Aren’t we going to celebrate your freedom to date—I mean to date wisely—with this cake?’
Both Gemma and Andie had been totally supportive during her man break. Had proved themselves again and again to be good friends as well as business partners.
Gemma nodded. ‘I know...’ she said, unable to stop the catch in her voice. It was the right thing to have turned down Tristan’s invitation, but that didn’t stop a lingering sense of regret, of wondering what might have been.
‘What’s brought on this fit of the gloomies?’ Eliza asked. ‘Oh, wait—don’t tell me. The handsome mystery man—Tristan Marco. He’s just your type, isn’t he? As soon as I saw him, I thought—’
Gemma put up her hand to stop her. ‘In looks, yes, I can’t deny that. He’s really hot.’ She forced a smile. ‘Our guesses about him were so far off the mark, weren’t they?’
‘He’s about as far away from short, bald and middle-aged as he could be,’ Eliza agreed. ‘I had to stop myself staring at him for fear he’d think I was incredibly bad mannered.’
‘You can imagine how shocked I was when he told me he was our client for the Friday night party. But I don’t think he told me everything. There’s still a lot of the mystery man about him.’
‘What do you mean, still too much mystery? What did you talk about here in your kitchen?’
Gemma filled Eliza in on her conversation with Tristan, leaving out his invitation for her to show him around Sydney. Eliza would only remind her that dating clients was a no-no. And, besides, she didn’t want to talk about it—she’d made her decision.
Eliza nodded. ‘He told me much the same thing—although he was quite evasive about the final list of guests. But what the heck? It’s his party, and he can invite anyone he wants to it as long as he sticks with the number we quoted on. We’re ahead financially, so it’s all good to me.’
‘That reminds me,’ Gemma said. ‘I have to amend the desserts for Friday to include Montovian chocolate. And he needs to approve them.’
‘You can discuss the menu change with him on Wednesday.’
Gemma stopped, the blunt palette knife she’d used to apply the frosting still in her hand. ‘Wednesday? Why Wednesday?’
‘Tristan is on vacation in Sydney. He’s asked me to book a private yacht cruise around the harbour on Wednesday. And to organise an elegant, romantic lunch for two to be taken on board.’
A romantic lunch for two?
Gemma let go of the palette knife so it landed with a clatter on the stainless steel benchtop, using the distraction to gather her thoughts. So she’d been right to distrust mystery man Tristan. He’d asked her to show him around Sydney. And at the same time he was making plans for a romantic tryst with another woman on a luxury yacht.
Thank heaven she’d said no.
Or had she misread him? Had his interest only been in her knowledge of local hotspots? After a six-month sabbatical, maybe her dating skills were so rusty she’d mistaken his meaning.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling annoyed. Not so much at Tristan but at herself, for having let down her guard even if only momentarily. If she’d glimpsed that look of interest in his eyes, he would have seen it in hers.
‘Which boat did you book?’ she asked Eliza.
The cooking facilities on the charter yachts available in Sydney Harbour ranged from a basic galley to a full-sized luxury kitchen.
‘Because it will be midweek, I managed to get the Argus on short notice.’
‘Wow! Well done. He should love that.’
‘He did. I showed him a choice of boats online, but the Argus was the winner hands down.’
‘His date should be really impressed,’ Gemma said, fighting off an urge to sound snarky.
‘I think that was the idea—the lucky lady.’
The Argus was a replica of a sixty-foot vintage wooden motor yacht from the nineteen-twenties and the ultimate in luxury. Its hourly hire rate was a mind-boggling amount of dollars. To book it for just two people was a total extravagance. Party Queens had organised a corporate client’s event for thirty people on the boat at the start of summer. It was classy, high-tech and had a fully equipped kitchen. Tristan must really want to impress his date.
‘So I’m guessing if lunch is on the Argus we won’t be on a tight budget.’
‘He told me to “spend what it takes”,’ said Eliza with a delighted smile. The more dollars for Party Queens, the happier Eliza was.
Gemma gritted her teeth and forced herself to think of Tristan purely as a client, not as an attractive man who’d caught her eye. It would be better if she still thought of him as bald with a pot belly. ‘It’s short notice, but of course we can do it. Any restrictions on the menu?’
Planning party menus could involve dealing with an overwhelming array of food allergies and intolerances.
‘None that he mentioned,’ said Eliza.
‘That makes things easier.’ Gemma thought out loud. ‘An elegant on-board lunch for two... I’m thinking seafood—fresh and light. A meal we can prep ahead and our chef can finish off on board. We’ll book the waiter today.’
‘“Romantic” is the keyword, remember? And he wants the best French champagne—which, of course, I’ll organise.’ Eliza had an interest in wine as well as in spreadsheets.
‘I wonder who his guest is?’ Gemma said, hoping she wouldn’t betray her personal interest to Eliza.
‘Again, he didn’t say,’ Eliza said.
Gemma couldn’t help a stab of envy towards Tristan’s date, for whom he was making such an effort to be romantic. But he was a client. And she was a professional. If he wanted romantic, she’d give him romantic. In spades.
‘But tell me—why will I be meeting with Tristan on Wednesday?’
‘He wants you to be on board for the duration—to make sure everything is perfect. His words, not mine.’
‘What? A lunch for two with a chef and a waiter doesn’t need a supervisor, as well. You know how carefully we vet the people who work for us. They can be trusted to deliver the Party Queens’ promise.’
Eliza put up her hands in a placatory gesture. ‘Relax. I know that. I know the yacht comes with skipper and crew. But Tristan asked for you to be on board, too. He wants you to make sure everything goes well.’
‘No!’ Gemma said and realised her protest sounded over-the-top. ‘I...I mean there’s no need for me to be there at all. I’ll go over everything with the chef and the waiter to make sure the presentation and service is faultless.’
Eliza shook her head. ‘Not good enough. Tristan Marco has specifically requested your presence on board.’
Gemma knew the bottom line was always important to Eliza. She’d made sure their business was a success financially. With a sinking heart Gemma realised there would be no getting out of this. And Eliza was only too quick to confirm that.
‘You know how lucrative his party on Friday is for us, Gemma. Tristan is an important client. You really have to do this. Whether you like it or not.’
ON WEDNESDAY MORNING Gemma made her way along the harbourside walk on the northern shore of Sydney Harbour. Milson’s Point and the Art Deco North Sydney Swimming Pool were behind her as she headed towards the wharf at Lavender Bay, where she