Save the Last Dance (23 page)

‘Okay, Alice. You've got a deal. I like the idea.'

Alice was very glad Cameron didn't have a video phone,
because she took that moment to do a silent victory dance around the kitchen.

‘I understand you're going to liaise with Jennie about the party, and she's going to keep me in the loop. Do you really think you can pull this off in four weeks?'

Alice was tempted to hyperventilate. She was so far out of her depth it wasn't funny. ‘Of course,' she said.

‘I look forward to seeing you then. Sorry to have interrupted your evening, but I was intrigued by what Jennie had told me and I wanted to find out more immediately. I've always found it helps to put the brakes on before she gets too carried away. Sometimes her ideas just don't pan out. Anyway, I'll let you get back to…whatever you were doing.'

‘It's fine. I wasn't really…'

She knew she should just say goodbye gracefully and put the phone down, but she didn't.

‘You know, Alice, I always thought you had it in you to surprise everyone.'

That was possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

Oh, her clients gushed occasionally about her, but, to be honest, they'd have sainted anyone who could have got their e-mail going again when an IT disaster struck. And not only was Cameron saying nice things, he was saying them in his lovely voice. She could have listened to it all evening.

‘Thank you, Cam.'

He chuckled. ‘Cam…I don't think anyone but Jennie calls me that any more.'

‘Sorry…Cameron.' She frowned. ‘What
do
people call you, then?'

‘Oh,
Your Highness
pretty much works for me.'

Now it was Alice's turn to laugh.

‘See you in four weeks, Alice.'

And then he was gone.

She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. This evening was getting progressively more surreal.

She cradled the phone to her chest as she slipped off the kitchen stool and wandered down the hallway to replace it on its base.

She made her way upstairs and pulled a book off her shelf, intending to read at least five chapters while soaking herself in a very hot bath. And as she threw her clothes onto the bed and pulled on her comfy old dressing gown, the slightly crumpled photo that had been lying face-down on the duvet fluttered to the floor and hid itself under the bed.

 

‘Moon River' chimed from Alice's pocket as her mobile vibrated. In an effort to contort herself into a position whereby she could reach it, she whacked her head on the underside of the desk she'd been crawling under. There was a muffled snicker from somewhere else in the office.

Finally she got her phone to her ear. ‘Hello?'

‘Hello.'

That one simple word, said in a calm, deep, velvety voice, set Alice's heart-rate rocketing. Why did his voice make her think of log fires and thick hot chocolate?

‘Cameron?' Oh, flip. Did that nauseating little squeak of a voice belong to
her
? She cleared her throat.

‘Alice, we have a problem.'

We? Had he just said
we
?

‘We do?'

She heard a muffled shuffling sound, as if he was pacing around. ‘My ridiculous stepsister has decided to…decided to…
elope
! I knew she was acting strangely, but…'

Did modern-day women still elope? Alice wasn't sure. Didn't that only happen to corset-wearing heroines in historical novels? Either way, it was wildly romantic. She drifted off into a little daydream about carriages, hooded velvet capes and moonlight.

However, Cameron's voice sliced through her fantasy. ‘No Jennie means no ball. Which means no fashion show.'

That's right. Break it to me gently, Cameron.

Was she mistaken, or was there a hint of imperious displeasure in his tone?

Anyway, the fashion show
couldn't
be off. She and Coreen had already planned what to do with the money. They'd set their hearts on being in a shop by February. Without the income and publicity from the show, they might have to wait until the following year.

Alice thought of the market fashion shows, how all the traders pulled together and made it happen.

‘
I
can do it. I can organise the fashion show.'

Had she really just said that? A market fashion show, with people's sisters and cousins as models, was a bit different from the kind of upmarket affair Jennie had been planning.

There was a split-second pause before Cameron said, ‘I like your fighting spirit, Alice.'

She didn't have much of a choice, did she?

‘We both need this event to be a success,' he said. ‘And I agree that bailing out now isn't an option.'

That wasn't
exactly
what she'd meant…

‘You'll just have to take over,' he added, almost to himself.

Alice blinked. For a while she'd forgotten where she was. She'd stopped noticing the faded blue carpet and the tangle of wires in every direction. But now she was back in the real world, staring at a bare patch somebody's feet had worn under the desk.

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘You'll just have to help me. You said you could organise the fashion show part. Couldn't you do the rest too? I'll pay you Jennie's fee.'

He mentioned a figure that made Alice's eyes water. With that sort of capital behind them Coreen's Closet could have its own premises by Christmas, never mind February. It almost made her forget that he hadn't exactly asked nicely.

‘But I have no experience of—'

‘Neither do I. But I'm prepared to give it a go if you are. We've only got three weeks now, and it's too late to start from scratch with another event planner.' His voice softened. ‘Come on, Alice. For our own reasons, we both need to pull this off.'

It didn't matter if Cameron had asked nicely or not. He was right.

‘Okay,' she said slowly. ‘I'll think about it.'

Cameron obviously decided to take that as a yes, because he started to reel off instructions and bark at her about couriering Jennie's files over.

‘Slow down a minute!'

Cameron broke off in mid-flow, seemingly flummoxed by the concept that someone might have something better to do with their time than fulfil his every whim. Alice took advantage of the silence.

‘You can't send stuff round right this minute. I'm not at home. I'm at work. I won't be there to sign for it.'

‘Oh. Sorry. I should have…But Jennie said you weren't at the market today. I haven't interrupted you on a house visit, in the middle of rifling through someone's wardrobe, have I?'

‘No—ouch!' Alice had turned to sit cross-legged on the floor and her head had made contact with the desk once more. ‘Actually, I'm rifling through someone's network.'

There was a pause. ‘Did you say
network
?'

Alice nodded to herself. ‘Jennie really is sketchy on the details, isn't she? I'm an IT consultant by day and a vintage fashion retailer by night. Think of it as my alter ego—my secret identity.'

‘Not so secret any more…now that you've told me.'

She grinned. He had a point there. Somehow she knew Cameron was grinning back on the other end of the line. For a few moments neither of them said anything, then Alice shook herself—literally—and decided to get back to business. Perhaps that would stop this slightly light-headed feeling that seemed to be sweeping over her.

‘I need to get an idea of what your new offices are like—to make sure what we're planning matches the surroundings. The building is what we'll be there to celebrate, after all, isn't it?'

Just as she'd been able to ‘hear' him smile, she now sensed him…what? Gloating?

‘You should see it. It's something else—totally unique. An old nineteen-thirties factory on the Isle of Dogs. Classic Art Deco style. All the plant and machinery is gone, but we've done as much as possible to preserve the original features.'

A picture formed in Alice's mind as he talked: geometrical shapes, cool white plaster, long horizontal windows. ‘It sounds fascinating. And what about the space for the party? Is there enough room? How big is it? Over how many levels?'

His voice was full of dry humour when he answered. ‘And you told me to slow down. One question at a time, Morton.'

But he didn't sound displeased in the slightest. In fact, he addressed her queries one by one in detail, and she could tell from the tone of his voice he was enjoying the chance to talk about his current pet project.

‘I mean it. You need to see it, Alice. What are you doing tomorrow?'

Why don't you get to the point, Cameron? Stop beating around the bush.

She frowned. ‘I was supposed to be sorting out a—'

‘Cancel it.'

Alice spluttered. ‘I can't do that! My clients are relying on me.'

‘Give me the address and I'll send a team from my own IT department. I'll see to it you won't lose any business because of this.'

It was all very well for Cameron to wave his magic wand and make all her objections disappear, but she wasn't at all sure she wanted a bunch of strangers doing her work for her. But it was that or give up on the whole fashion show idea. And that meant delaying her launch into her new career, which she really wasn't prepared to contemplate now it was almost within her grasp.

And by the way, Mr Hunter…See that mountain over there? You couldn't just tell it to up and jump into the Thames, could you? It's spoiling my view.

She was starting to realise that the focussed, determined young man she'd met all those years ago had matured into a formidable force. And something was bothering her. Something on the fringes of her consciousness.

‘Cameron?'

He stopped mid-flow, in the middle of giving her more potted history of his new building. ‘Yes?'

‘What did you say your company was called?' Now she thought about it, she didn't remember getting down to specifics—she'd been too busy pitching her idea.

‘Orion.' He sounded puzzled. ‘Didn't Jennie tell you that?'

Alice almost dropped her phone. ‘Orion?' she whispered. ‘As in
Orion Solutions
?'

‘Yes. That's it.'

Very clever.

Hunter…Orion…It all fitted now.

She'd booted up the computer on the desk above her only a couple of minutes ago. Full of Orion software. Like almost every other computer on the planet. Suddenly the air in her office had grown a little sparse. She wanted to open a window and stick her face outside into the cold air, but she had a feeling they were welded shut.

Had she just agreed to organise a party for the head of Orion Solutions—one of the fastest growing software enterprises in the world? Boy, she was way out of her league. Way,
way
out of her league.

But this was
Cameron
. The young man she'd hidden out at a Christmas party with.

No, it wasn't working. She couldn't marry the two ideas together in her head, even though she knew deep down he must have changed since then. Just talking to him, she sensed subtle changes. Now it all made sense. He'd always been reserved and precise. But now when he talked there was an unmistakable undercurrent of confidence and inner strength she'd always sensed had been there which now had risen to the surface. Would he have changed on the outside too? Twelve years was a long time.

The mental image that thought conjured up was appealing. She could see a tall, slim man—not gangly and awkward any more—with the same unruly dark hair that curled past his collar. His eyes would be the same warm brown, but there would be more lines round his mouth and at the corners of his eyes.

There was a meaningful cough from beyond the desk.
Alice noticed a pair of pinstriped legs move a few steps closer. Mr Rogers. She'd forgotten all about him.

‘I better go,' she mumbled. ‘I'll see you tomorrow.'

‘I'll meet you at noon.' He reeled off the address of his new headquarters.

As he spoke, she was vacantly staring at a web of cables off to her left. Something drew her attention—some instinct told her to take a closer look. And then she spotted it—the source of all of the solicitors' problems. It was going to be a nasty job to sort out but, hey, ‘nasty' normally meant ‘time-consuming', and that translated into more cash. Something she was only too glad of.

‘Alice? Is that okay?' The deep, rich voice made her jump.