Nate looked at Sam, who smiled. “I eat everything but shellfish.”
“Thanks, Lucy.” Nate spread his napkin over his lap and used the opportunity to discreetly glance at his watch.
“Do you have to go soon?” she asked, trying to reconcile this powerful, ultracommanding Nate with the down-to-earth Nate from the Lumber Baron. Even his suit was different. More formal, more expensive, and definitely more authoritative. Just looking at him made her knees weak.
“I’m good. But I have something this evening, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to take you to dinner.”
“Nate, I wasn’t even expecting lunch. Do you give all your employees the red-carpet treatment—fancy suites, gift baskets, meals at Mitch Mica’s?”
“Just the ones who are pissed off at me.”
“I’m over it,” she said, waving her hand in the air. But the truth was, he’d hurt her feelings. She glanced around the beautiful restaurant. “So this is all to make up for the fact that you like my face and body, but everything else about me you can’t stand?”
“That’s not what I said.” He leaned over the table. “What I don’t like is how much I like you.”
She gulped. “Then this is to impress me?”
“I suspect it takes a lot more than this to impress Samantha Dunsbury,” he said. “What’re your plans for the rest of the day?”
The sommelier brought them a bottle of wine. “Chef thought this would be a nice accompaniment to some of the things he’s sending out.”
“Thanks, Raj.” Nate swirled his glass, sniffed, tasted, and nodded his head. Raj proceeded to fill both their glasses and quietly disappeared.
“You know about wine?” she asked.
“Not a thing.” Nate smiled. “Don’t tell Raj, but I would’ve preferred beer. What’re your plans?”
“I thought I’d check out the expo space at the Belvedere. You know, get a lay of the land. Then I wanted to walk around Union Square and do a little shopping.”
“You need a driver?”
“Isn’t it just a couple of blocks?”
“Three. The concierge will give you directions and hook you up with the folks over at the Belvedere. Your promotional stuff is already there. All the good shops in Union Square deliver to the hotel, so don’t worry about having to carry your packages back.”
She beamed at him. “Contrary to your opinion of me, I’m impressed, Nate.” Maybe it was the restaurant lighting, but she could’ve sworn Mr. Cynical blushed. “Tell me, how did you ever get your hands on this hotel? Paul the bellhop, who by the way deserves a raise for promoting this place so well, said you renovated the Theodore from top to bottom.”
Nate took a sip of wine and nodded. “It had been one of San Francisco’s most famous hotels, but the last owners let it go to hell. By the time I got it, the Theodore needed millions of dollars of restoration—a hard sell to investors, especially given that in the last decade San Francisco has gotten a lot of the big luxury chains. Names that travelers know and value. But we were able to put together a long-term strategy that would put this place on top again. It would’ve been a shame to see it die. The hotel has a legacy.”
“It’s like what you did with the Lumber Baron.”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Just on a much grander scale.”
“You’re a very good businessman, aren’t you?” She supposed Royce must’ve been, too. But he didn’t save architectural treasures.
“I just work hard. How about Saturday, after the expo, I show you some of the other Breyer properties?”
Her face fell. “I have plans Saturday evening that I can’t get out of. Is there another time we could squeeze it in? I’m dying to see them.”
“I’ll see what I can do. What’s up Saturday?”
“I’m seeing an old friend from Greenwich. He lives here now.” She would’ve invited Nate to come along, but it seemed awkward.
“Sounds nice,” Nate said, but Sam got the distinct impression that he was disappointed. “So about tomorrow, Tracy will show you the ropes. They’ll be a couple of other Breyer event planners there as well. Lean on them as much as you need to. So how do you know this guy from Greenwich?”
“We grew up together, though he’s a few years older. His sister, my best friend and I all went to Vassar together.”
“I didn’t know you went to Vassar.” Nate genuinely looked surprised. “What did you major in, or did you skip around departments?”
Skip around?
“Art history.” It just so happened that she graduated with honors.
“Did you want to work in a museum or own a gallery?” he asked, leaning across the table.
Before she could answer, the server came with an amuse-bouche for the table—shot glasses of cold soup.
“This is delicious,” she said, sipping. “As far as art history, my family owns a large collection that we lend out to museums and public spaces around the world. It’s important to us to keep adding to that collection so that we can continue to share. Although I was raised to appreciate art, I wanted to be educated well enough to carry on the family legacy.”
The server returned with four different appetizers, each one looking better than the last.
“You always get this kind of service?” she whispered. “All this food and I won’t have any room left to order an entrée.”
“Try to force it down. I don’t want to offend the guy. He’s on the temperamental side and having his restaurant here brings in a lot of traffic.” He served her some calamari and took some for himself. “You giving up the art now that you’re in the hospitality business?”
“Give it up? Why would I do that? It’s part of my family history. I help administer the George T. Dunsbury Trust, which puts aside millions every year for new art acquisitions. Not just for my family’s collections, but for museums like MoMA and the Met.”
“How’s that working out from Nugget?” She detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But that was Nate. Acerbic and cynical. At least he wasn’t a con artist, like Royce.
“Quite well, thank you. I Skype with the board at least once a week.” She wanted to stick out her tongue at him, but at the moment she had food in her mouth. What in tarnation ever gave him the impression that just because she’d moved to Nugget she would shirk her responsibilities?
The waiter was headed their way and quietly Nate said, “Let’s order something. I don’t want to eat his freebies and run.”
She looked at her menu for something light. “I’ll have the Caesar salad,” she told the server.
Nate got the grilled Alaskan halibut. “How’s things back in Nugget?”
“Good. Lucky’s excited about my winter ideas.” Nate rolled his eyes. “What? I’ve been working like a dog on that project.”
He reached across the table and put his hand on hers. Electricity arced through her like she’d been touched by a lightning bolt. She credited the jolt to the fact that he had sexy hands. Large and strong with a smattering of dark hair that extended past his wrists.
“Sam, not you,” he said. “You’ve come up with some great ideas.”
“You still don’t like Lucky? I thought he was starting to grow on you.”
“I don’t know where you got that idea. You ever notice that he stares at your chest the whole time he’s talking to you?”
“He does not.”
“Look, I’m a guy. I know about this stuff. He thinks he’s being sly, but he’s full-on checking out your . . .”
She could tell from how hot her face felt that she was turning red. “Since you’re so concerned about employee-boss propriety . . . uh, conversation . . . slightly inappropriate, don’t you think?”
“Nope.” Nate took another sip of his wine. “As your boss, I’m supposed to protect you from untoward sexual advances.”
“Nate, do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
“Because I kissed you? Twice.”
“No. Because I wouldn’t let anyone harass me. As you’ve pointed out many, many times, I don’t need this job. Therefore, I would have no qualms reporting any improper behavior from you or Lucky or anyone else.”
“Good.” He smiled. “So you don’t think I harassed you, right?”
“No. But I do think you were insensitive. You don’t have the first clue about Royce and me. And if you did, I don’t think you would be so quick to condemn me for breaking it off with him.”
Nate bent closer to her. “What did he do?”
“That’s private,” she said. “Now be a good boss and quit asking personal questions.”
Their lunch came and they ate in silence until Nate finally said, “I’m sorry I was insensitive.” Sam thought he sounded like a chastised little boy. For such a know-it-all, he could be quite adorable.
“Let’s please stop talking about this, okay?” In an attempt to change the subject, she asked, “Where are the Breyer Hotel offices?”
“They’re on this floor. There’s a hallway behind the staircase that leads to our corporate headquarters. I won’t have time to give you a tour after lunch, but I can have my assistant show you around.”
“I would like that,” she said.
After Nate paid the bill they went their separate ways—Nate to his meetings, Sam to get that tour and then off to see the Belvedere.
Sam woke up early the next morning. Went for a workout in the hotel gym, showered, and grabbed a latte at the coffee bar in the lobby before walking to the expo. On her way up Powell to Sutter Street, she wished she’d worn something warmer than her linen shift dress and cropped jacket. June in San Francisco was freezing.
The Belvedere, understated compared to the Theodore, was charming and elegant. The entire basement, a series of conference rooms, housed the bridal expo. Breyer Hotels had set up a large booth to exhibit its various venues. Yesterday, Sam had hung her display and arranged the Lumber Baron pamphlets. She noticed that Tracy was just now getting around to organizing the literature and pictures of the Theodore. As head of corporate event planning, Tracy was not only representing Breyer’s flagship hotel but Nate had made it clear that all his other event planners were to defer to her.
“Samantha, I think you should move the Lumber Baron display to the other side of the booth. It looks weird to put it here with the San Francisco properties.” In other words, Tracy was relegating her to Siberia.
Sam could have kicked up a fuss. Tracy didn’t have a chance against her. Compared to the vipers Sam ran with—Muffy Vandertilten immediately came to mind—Tracy was amateur night. But it wasn’t worth the trouble. Like her best friend, Wendy, always said, “Do you want to fight? Or do you want to win?”
So she moved the display.
“Hi, I’m Lisa. You must be Samantha.” Lisa had a Southern accent, big green eyes, and a perfect blond bob. “I love your outfit.”
“Thank you.” Sam looked down at her dress, wondering if she’d overdressed. But Lisa was wearing a suit. “Which Breyer hotel are you with?”
“I’m with the Belvedere.” Lisa held her heart. “I’m so glad to have the job. A few months ago, my boyfriend and I came out from Atlanta, where I worked events at the Hilton. For two months I couldn’t get anything. I mean the phone—dead. And then miraculously the position at the Belvedere came up. Saved my life. So you work at the Lumber Baron?”
“Yes,” Sam said. “It’s small, but very sweet.”
“Are you kidding? It’s Nate’s baby. The man dotes on the place. And isn’t he just dreamy?”
Sam smiled. “Very handsome.”
“Oh my God, he’s the best boss ever. Let me tell you, I’ve had a hard time making the adjustment here. Everyone in Atlanta was so nice. In San Francisco, people are demanding, even mean. Oops”—she covered her mouth—“you’re not offended, are you?”
Sam laughed. “I’m from Connecticut.”
“Oh.” Lisa looked at her like Connecticut wasn’t much better than San Francisco. “Anyway, Nate has been so patient and so sweet.”
Really? Sam must’ve gotten his evil twin as a boss. Or maybe he just liked Southern belles from Atlanta better.
By now, expo attendees started approaching the booth and both women moved up to the front to address questions.
“To be continued,” Lisa said in a singsongy voice.
There were a lot more people attending this expo than the Sacramento one, which Sam supposed she should’ve expected. Two hours in and she felt parched from talking so much, which surprised her. She hadn’t realized there would be so much interest in a venue four hours outside of the city, but it appeared that country weddings were even more in vogue than she’d originally thought.
All anyone seemed to want to know is if the Lumber Baron had a barn. Barns apparently were the new ballrooms. She couldn’t wait to talk to Lucky about this. Here was another way they could combine their two operations. Although she didn’t know how Mr. Bull Rider would feel about turning his cowboy camp into a wedding mill.
“You want to get a cup of coffee?” Lisa asked.
“Yes. Oh God, yes.”
But before they could break away, a young woman approached Sam. “Hi, I’m getting married next summer and I’m interested in the Theodore. It’s where my grandparents got married.”
“That’s lovely. Let me find someone who can help you,” Sam said, and glanced around the booth for Tracy. No sign of her. Sam turned to Lisa. “You know where Tracy is?” When Lisa shook her head, Sam told the young woman, “Our resident Theodore expert seems to have stepped away for a few minutes.”
“You mean the woman with brown hair?” Other than Randall, who worked at one of the other properties, Tracy was the only brunette in their group.
“She sort of blew me off, told me to call on Monday. But I came all the way from Walnut Creek.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “Unfortunately, my hotel is the Lumber Baron Inn, but let me see what I can find here.” She thumbed through the Theodore literature and found folders filled with descriptions of the party rooms available, menus and prices. “Aha. This should help.” Why Tracy hadn’t given her one of the packets was a mystery.
The woman sifted through the information. “This definitely helps, but I was hoping to set up an appointment so I could bring my fiancé and mother for a consultation. I know it’s a year away, but it’s a June wedding and I know how popular those are. It would be great to get a date on the books.”