‘And yours?’ Callie asked, and wondered at herself. This wasn’t like her. She was flirting with him. And even though she knew that she shouldn’t, she wanted to know the answer.
Their eyes locked, and once again something sizzled between them.
‘I don’t have a date here.’
‘Your girlfriend couldn’t make it tonight?’
She turned away from him as she asked the question, and leaned her head back against the elevator wall. She didn’t want to succumb to the magnetism that surrounded him, but she had already failed miserably. She shouldn’t be asking him about his personal life. But every time she looked at him her heart kicked in her chest and she wanted to know more. If she looked away, the walls began to close in on her.
So she chose the lesser of the two evils and turned back to him. His eyes were patient, steady, and she gave in to the temptation. ‘Couldn’t she?’
‘There’s no girlfriend.’
Was she imagining the slight tension in his voice?
‘And you don’t have a boyfriend, I assume?’
‘You assume correctly—although I probably shouldn’t be telling you that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, you’re a strange man and we’re stuck in an elevator together. What’s going to deter you from putting the moves on me now that you know I don’t have a boyfriend?’
Callie said the words before she could think about what they might provoke. But he just said, ‘You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t “put the moves” on anyone.’
‘So women just drop at your feet, then?’ She couldn’t take her eyes off him as she dug deeper.
‘Sometimes.’
He smiled, but even in the dim light she could see something in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher.
‘Ah, modesty. Charming.’ She said it in jest, but her heart sank. This man—this very attractive man who made her heart beat faster just by looking at her—wasn’t interested in one woman. Women fell at his feet—and she wouldn’t be one of them.
He laughed, and then sobered. ‘Mostly I stay away from them.’
Callie felt herself soften just a little at the heartbreak she could hear ever so slightly in his voice. And just like that her judgement of him faded away. He didn’t want women, or even just one woman—he wanted to be alone. Callie couldn’t figure out which fact bothered her the most.
‘I’m sorry. She must have been a real piece of work.’
He didn’t answer her, but his face told her everything that she needed to know. She placed a hand over his and squeezed it, hoping to provide him with some comfort. But when he laid his hand over hers in return, comfort was the last thing on her mind. His hand brought heat to hers, and lit her heart so that it beat to a rhythm she couldn’t fathom. He leaned his head towards hers, and suddenly heat spread through her bloodstream.
This couldn’t be right, she thought desperately as she pulled her hand away. They barely knew each other. She wouldn’t let herself fall into a web of attraction with a man who was as charming as a fairy-tale prince.
Before she could worry about it the elevator lurched and the lights came back on. He stood and offered a hand to her, a slight smile on his gorgeous face. Did he know the effect he had on her? Or was he simply aware that he’d helped distract her from one of her worst fears?
As Callie took his hand she had to admit that he had kept her thoughts off being stuck in an elevator. And she blamed that—and his good looks—on her uncharacteristic reaction.
‘Thank you,’ she said as the elevator doors opened. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.’
The breath of relief that was released from her lungs as she walked away was because she was out of the enclosed space, Callie assured herself, and ignored the voice in her head that scoffed at the lie.
* * *
Blake Owen stopped at the doors of the banquet hall and resisted the urge to walk away. He had never been a fan of opulence, but rarely did he have a choice in the matter. Which was fine, he supposed. In his business, events of an extravagant nature were integral to success, and the welcome for him tonight was an excellent example of that. He would be introduced to the Elegance Hotel in Cape Town in a style that would keep the hotel’s name at the forefront of the media’s attention while he sorted out the troublesome operation.
So he accepted his lot and walked into the room, snagging a flute of champagne from the nearest waiter’s tray before taking the whole scene in.
Glamour spread from the roof to the floor and fairy lights and sparkling chandeliers twinkled like stars against the midnight-blue draping. Black-and-white-clad waiters wove through the crowd while men and women in tuxedos and evening gowns air-kissed and wafted around on clouds of self-importance.
Blake almost rolled his eyes—until he remembered the guests were there in his honour. The thought made him empty the entire champagne glass and exchange it for a full one from the next waiter. He noted that the power outage hadn’t seemed to dampen the evening’s festivities. But when he looked at the scene with the eye of a manager he could see some slightly frazzled members of staff weaving through the crowd doing damage control.
He managed to get the attention of one of them, and took the frightened young man to a less populated corner of the hall.
‘What happened when the electricity went out?’
As Blake spoke the man’s eyes widened and Blake thought that ‘boy’ might be a more appropriate description.
‘It was only a few moments, sir. As you can see, everything is running smoothly again. Enjoy your evening.’
The boy made to move away, but at Blake’s look he paused.
‘Was there anything else, sir?’
‘Yes, actually. I was wondering if you brush off the concerns of all your guests, or if you reserve that for just a handful of people.’
If the boy had looked nervous before, he was terrified now. ‘No...no, sir. I’m sorry you feel that I did. We’re just a bit busy, and I have to make sure that everything is okay before Mr Owen gets here.’
‘That would be me.’
The words were said in a low voice, softly, but for their effect they might have been earth-shatteringly loud.
‘Mr... Mr Owen?’ the boy stammered. ‘Sir, I am so sorry—’
‘It’s fine,’ Blake said when he saw the boy might have a heart attack from the shock. ‘You can answer my original question.’ At his blank look, Blake elaborated. ‘The power outage...?’
‘Oh, yes. Well, it wasn’t such a train smash here. The candles gave sufficient light that there wasn’t much panic, and Connor—Mr McKenzie, I mean—managed to calm whatever concerns there were.’
Blake was surprised the boy had been able to string enough words together to give him such a thorough explanation.
‘And that was it?’
‘Yes, sir. The generator was back on in under thirty minutes, so it wasn’t too long. Although I did hear there were people trapped in the elevator.’
Blake thought it best not to tell the boy he had been one of those who had been trapped. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle another shock.
‘When was the last time the generator was checked?’
‘I...I don’t know, sir.’
Blake nodded and left it at that, making a mental note to check that out when he officially started on Monday. The list of what