Nick stood too. "I'll walk you down."
As they passed the still open wardrobe door, Callie glanced critically at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She lifted a hand to her hair. She'd left it out, curling softly around her face. If she'd been able to get an appointment-
"It looks beautiful. You look beautiful." Nick fingered one of the curls, his knuckle brushing against her neck igniting her skin.
She met his gaze in the mirror. "What if I say yes?"
"Then we'll get married."
"And make each other miserable."
A hint of a smile touched his face. "Perhaps." He paused, the smile faded and his mouth turned serious. He shifted his hand to her shoulder, turned her toward him. "You deserve to be happy. I would find ways to not to make you miserable."
"That would have sounded good in the marriage vows. I'll find ways to not make you miserable." Callie tried to make light of the situation, but still neither of them moved. A connection shimmered in the air between them, slowing her heartbeat to a heavy, anticipatory thump.
Her phone rang in her evening bag, shrill and abrupt. Once then twice. Blinking, Callie found it and glanced at the caller ID. "Marc, how's it going?"
As Marc spoke, she exhaled heavily, her thoughts firmly back in reality. "Of course you have to go home. Don't worry about the festival, I'll sort it out." She listened a little longer, then cut in. "I meant it when I said don't worry. Just get yourself home as quickly as you can."
She shut off her phone and looked at Nick, who'd moved away, but was watching her. "Marc's your sidekick at Ivy Cottage?"
She nodded, still processing the news he'd delivered. "He's been at Cypress Rise. I had him organizing the Jazz and Art festival."
"And?" Nick probed gently.
"His sister's been in a car crash. She's in a coma." The woman Callie had met only a few times had been so vivacious it was impossible to imagine her lying still and injured in a hospital bed.
"Does he need help getting home?" Nick's concern was immediate. "Brunicadi Investments has a jet that's available."
Callie shook her head and started toward her hotel room door. "He's booked on the next flight out, and is already on his way to the airport."
Nick opened the door for her. "Good."
She waited for him in the corridor. "It does leave a problem with the festival."
His gaze sharpened. "Who'll cover it now?"
They walked toward the elevators. "That's the problem. Aside from me there isn't anyone else. Before he left, Jason used to do a lot of these sorts of things. If he's available to help, I guess he could step in. But he would still have to liaise with me."
Nick shook his head.
So he still doubted her. And it hurt. "Don't you think the festival is more important than these insecurities? Heck, we can have a third person present during all contact if that makes it any easier."
He shook his head again. "Jason's out of the country."
"Oh." It hadn't been concern over her and Jason. At least not entirely. "Then I'm the only other person who can take over." She watched him closely as they waited for an elevator to arrive. She'd put Marc in charge of the day in an effort to minimize her contact with the winery and Melody. But she really was the only one who could step in now, the only other person who'd had involvement with the caterers, artists, performers and security.
He saw her dilemma. Knew it, because he'd created it.
"I know it goes against what we agreed-what you demanded I agree to-but that really wasn't necessary in the first place. For the winery's sake, and for the sake of the teenage shelter, we need to do it right and do it well."
The elevator arrived and they stepped in. "I'll drive you." There was no hesitation, no reluctance in his calm response.
Did that mean he trusted her? And should she want that trust as much as she did? "I don't want to put you to any trouble." She matched his calmness, but already her thoughts were torn between cataloging what still needed to be done in the run-up to the weekend, and how she would juggle the work on her desk back home; and underneath all that ran a ripple of anxiety about what it would be like to be on his territory.
"It's no trouble. I promised Mel I'd be around this week."
The ripple increased. "You're helping out at the festival?"
"You sound surprised."
"I hadn't realized, that's all. Doing what?"
"General drudge work, as far as I can tell. She's making all the family come and help." One side of his mouth kicked up in a grin as the elevator came to a halt. "So when do you want to go?"
This was happening too fast, but she knew it had to. "Early tomorrow morning I guess," she said hesitantly. "I'd like to get there in time to put in a full day."
"You're not needed here?"
She shook her head. "This dinner is the last thing I have to be here for."
"I'll pick you up at six then."
Suddenly, the trip in the car with him, spending days on his territory seemed like a very bad idea. He confused her, and confused her senses.
They stepped into the foyer. In a bar area off the far side of the marbled room, several of the people she was meeting for dinner stood clustered together, sipping cocktails.
The adjacent elevator doors opened, and Len Joseph, whose company was one of the principal conference sponsors, stepped out. A smile spread across his lined face as he saw Callie and Nick. "Wonderful that you could join us for dinner." He clapped Nick on the shoulder.
Callie's heart sank. Yet another opportunity for Nick to intrude in her life, a further confusing of the lines. And she couldn't even accuse him of bulldozing when the opportunity was handed to him on a plate.
"Thanks, Len." Nick glanced at Callie. "But I can't tonight."
"Sorry to hear that. Some other time." Len headed for the group of dinner guests.
She looked at Nick. "Thanks."
"For not bulldozing?"
"Something like that."
He smiled and Callie dragged her gaze away to look at the group Len had joined. Their presence anchored her and reminded her what she was doing here and who she was, Callie Jamieson, PR professional. She knew how to be that woman. All she had to do was focus on that and do her job. The rest, the confusing stuff-her pregnancy and more specifically her relationship with Nick-she could deal with later.
"The pregnancy changes everything, Callie." He spoke close to her ear. "You're having my baby," he said as though he'd read her thoughts. "Whether you like it or not, and even before you agree to marry me that makes you a part of my family. The two can't be separated."
Eight
S till mulling over his parting words, Callie stood under the hotel's portico the next morning, watching the Sydney street come to life. From his cool non-offer of marriage, she'd been catapulted into the prospect of days spent in Nick's company, with all the things they'd said-and done-hanging between them.
Five minutes ahead of time, a black Range Rover eased to a stop in front of her. Nick nodded a greeting as he got out and opened her door. Wearing snug jeans that were faded just a little, and a black polo shirt, he looked more casual than she'd yet seen him. Casual, yet no less potent. She had to pass close to him to get into the car, and remembered of all things, the warm caress of his breath on her bare toes. She caught his scent, clean and masculine, as she climbed into the deep beige seat. He shut her door, leaving her with a feeling similar to what she got when she strapped herself into the seat of a rollercoaster. Suddenly, when it was too late to back out, there was an overwhelming uncertainty as to whether this wasn't a very bad idea.
He stowed her bag in the back, climbed in beside her then pulled smoothly away. Definitely too late now. "You've been in touch with Marc this morning? How's his sister?" he asked as he passed her a paper bakery bag. All business, she noted, though his concern was genuine.
"Yes. He got home all right, but there's no change in his sister's condition." And she was almost equally surprised when she looked inside the bag and saw a cream cheese bagel and a date scone. Beside her, in the cup holders, sat two bottles of mineral water.