True Colours (11 page)

@moonwalker They *definitely* deliver.

@onlychampers Sounds like you had fun.

She’d had fun alright. The memory of Peter’s broad chest slick with oil, of him teasing her, gently coaxing her, infuriatingly bringing her almost to the edge and then, just as she was about to scream, letting her go again sent a thrill up from her groin, spreading out across her body with deft fingers. Good god, the memory of his tongue was going to make her come all over again.

@moonwalker 4sure. More fun 2day – shopping in BTs, u must go there whn u cme 2 Dub.

She didn’t wait for a reply. That was the fun thing about Twitter, the people you followed and who followed you logged in whenever they could, so it was constantly changing. And there was no pressure to have a conversation – so if someone didn’t reply it was no problem.

Caroline switched off her BlackBerry and slipped it over the edge of the bath and onto the Italian marble floor. It landed with a clatter, but she hardly noticed, was already lying back with her eyes closed revelling in last night’s every glorious detail.

THIRTEEN

Sitting on the sofa in Sebastian’s office, Alex froze, her irritation at being ignored fizzling out like a damp sparkler. With the bone china mug that Jocelyn had handed her hovering in front of her lips, her eyes met Sebastian’s through the gentle movement of steam above it. Today, his eyes were an impossibly deep shade of blue-grey, like the colour the sea goes when a storm is threatening, like the clouds now darkening the window behind him. And they were trained on her, penetrating deep. Looking for answers.

Alex opened her mouth to reply, realised with a jolt that, yet again, it had gone dry. Fumbling for something sensible to say, she felt the intensity of his gaze, as blue as the gas jet from a propane torch, blistering hot, accusing, consuming the oxygen in the room. This was mad – she felt like she was locked in some sort of vacuum, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape, couldn’t find the words to switch off the heat. This was way worse than she had ever imagined it was going to be.

Apparently completely unaware of the tension in the room, and having poured her own coffee, Jocelyn put the coffee pot down with a clunk on the glass table, the sound reverberating like someone had aimed a fire extinguisher at them both and pulled the pin. Jocelyn spoke half to herself as she settled back heavily into the sofa, elbows jutting out as she brought her mug to her lips, bracelets jangling.

‘
My goodness, can’t function without good coffee in the morning, can you?’

Her comment drew Sebastian’s attention, an acknowledgement in the form of a tilt of his head, a twitch of his lips. He had always wondered about Jocelyn’s ability to pick up the undercurrents at a meeting, had been concerned how he would handle this one with her sitting on his shoulder like his mother, huffing and puffing and getting all effusive about the colour schemes. But now, with Alex sitting in front of him, her long slim legs crossed demurely like a virgin at a prayer meeting, her blouse straining across her full breasts, the silk catching the light where the lace on her bra undulated beneath it, he knew for sure Jocelyn wasn’t getting all the signals. Which was just as well. He felt like someone had plugged him in to an electrical socket, like every hair on his body was live, and if Alex moved too much on that sofa his imagination was going to leap over there and rip open that blouse…

Seizing the moment, Alex concealed her confusion by nodding her agreement and taking a very large, unladylike slug of her coffee. It was strong and black, exactly what she needed to kick her back on track. Putting her mug down carefully, she focused on it, breathing deeply, trying to calm her racing heart, preparing to meet Sebastian’s eye.

‘
Very well thank you. And thank you for giving us the contract. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.’ Calm, controlled, smiling, professional. Whew!

He interrupted before she could continue.

‘
I hope so. You certainly come very highly recommended. But tell me a bit more about Impromptu. You’re based in Barcelona?’

The inclination at the end of his sentence spoke for itself. Why Barcelona? Alex felt herself chill. It was a leading question and they both knew it.

Conscious of her every movement, poised as she was with her back straight, knees clamped together, Alex forced herself to try and relax before she answered. She really needed to look like this didn’t bother her. Like the timbre of his voice wasn’t sending messages around her body like an express train, a train finding its way along old tracks, well worn but gone rusty with time. She moved as she spoke, relaxing her back, uncrossing her ankles, trying to blend moving and speaking so that the whole thing appeared completely natural. She felt like she was doing an exam, like he was assessing her on her dress, her presentation, the way she sat, what she said. She replied with a smile, forcing herself to sound light, relaxed.

‘
Yes, we’re based in Barcelona; our office is in the centre of the city on Las Ramblas.’

‘
We?’ It was like a bullet, the word fired from point-blank range, explosive and deadly. Even Jocelyn raised an eyebrow momentarily, but then she was used to his unorthodox boardroom style, had learned long ago not to question it. Alex however, felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. Why was he reacting so aggressively to such a simple statement? Her irritation began to splutter into life again, lick at the embers of the past. It wasn’t like any of this was her fault! Forcing herself to sound matter of fact, like it was a perfectly normal question, she said.

‘
I have a business partner, Marina Delgado.’

A woman. For a split second Sebastian cursed himself for his lack of control. How could he have been so transparent? And what did it matter anyway who her partner was?

‘
I see.’ In an effort to draw attention away from his question, he flipped his tie, clearing his throat before continuing deceptively innocently, ‘but you’re Irish aren’t you?’

As if he didn’t know she was Irish. Alex would have scowled if Jocelyn hadn’t been sitting opposite her, hanging on her every word. Then the bombshell came. ‘So why Barcelona?’

Alex drew in a sharp breath, knew she was standing on the edge of a minefield. What should she say? Because I had to get away, a long way away? She reached for her mug, took another sip of her coffee, buying time.

‘
Actually, I’m half-Spanish, my Mother’s family are from Cataluña, so it made sense for me to go to college there.’ Matter of fact. Keep it simple. Pinpricks of perspiration stung the small of her back, each breath taut, shallow.

This was painful, like water torture, slow and steady, but Alex knew she had to keep the front up, had to react like this was a normal business interview. After all, he was awarding them a contract, had every right to know their background, to find out if they were able to handle the job. And with Jocelyn sitting there, Alex knew she could hardly start getting sarcastic. But, she was finding it harder and harder to concentrate, to continue this seemingly impersonal conversation when his every movement, every nuance took her straight back to that summer…Desperate to fill the silence growing, pregnant with expectation, she continued,

‘
Marina and I met at the Instituto Europeo di Deseňo. When we graduated, an opportunity came up to renovate Marina’s father’s offices in Barcelona, so we took it and the work just kept coming in. We haven’t looked back.’ Oh God why did she say that – we haven’t looked back – she could feel him bristling, the air suddenly electric.

‘
Really?’

Needing to move on, desperate to shout – I didn’t mean it that way! I didn’t mean that I’ve never looked back, never regretted leaving! Alex said hastily, ‘We’ve been lucky enough to win some big contracts. Like the Spanish Government contract. We’ve redesigned every government department from the letterheads to their staff uniform. And Iberia liked what we did, so we have done their offices and corporate livery as well as re-vamping the crew uniforms and on-board interiors.’

‘
Impressive.’ But he didn’t look impressed, just annoyed, his blue eyes shuttered, hiding his emotions. Taking a sip of his coffee he glanced at the paperwork in front of him again and then sat back, his foot thrown over his knee. Casual, relaxed, in control.

‘
And you live in Barcelona?’

What had that got to do with anything?

‘
No, just outside, in a town called Tarragona.’

He nodded, ‘with the bullring, and the medieval cathedral.’

Alex nodded, unable to conceal her surprise, a hint of panic welling up – how did he know? Tarragona was beautiful, but it was hardly big enough to warrant his attention. Jocelyn too looked surprised, raising her eyebrows. By way of explanation he turned to her, ‘Wingfield Media pitched for the Spanish Tourist Board’s advertising contract. It was one of the towns they chose to represent cultural Spain.’

Whew, Alex’s sigh of relief was almost audible. But he knew where she lived now, knew where she worked, so even if she chickened out and ran back to Spain, he’d know where to find her…

Shooting Alex a conspiratorial look, her eyes raised to heaven, Jocelyn made a show of swishing back her bell-shaped sleeves and rattling her diamante bracelet watch down her arm so that she could look at it properly.

‘
Oh look at the time!’

Alex’s lips twitched at the corners as she fought back a smile. Jocelyn really deserved an Oscar for her performance in managing her boss. ‘You’ve got that conference call at eleven. If you’re happy with Alex’s credentials, could we have a look at the ideas she brought with her perhaps?’

Alex smiled, her relief that the interrogation was over making her stomach ache – there was no way she’d be able to say it, but she owed Jocelyn a big one. Turning to pull out the mood boards beside her, she forced herself to relax, became aware of the soft tick of a clock somewhere behind her, the feel of the leather beneath her knees. She’d done hundreds of presentations before, should be able to deflect the focus away from herself for a few moments at least. And she knew the concepts she’d come up with were excellent.

‘
I’ve worked up some ideas using your corporate colours, as you suggested. The aubergine is ideal, it’s a good, strong generic colour that has no negative connotations or associations. It suggests a surety and capability that emphasises your corporate message.’ Alex flipped over the first of the boards, ‘I’ve come up with three different looks. The first one uses the aubergine as the main colour, with this rich butter and gold. The fabrics are a bold geometric print for blinds and curtains, and I’d suggest a series of printed panels that continue the design story for the walls. You can use the aubergine and butter as a wall colour throughout – perhaps butter in the communal areas, with more aubergine in meeting areas such as the main conference room.’

Settling back into the sofa, leaning his elbow on the arm, chin cupped in one hand, his face blank, like he was embroiled in a game of poker, Sebastian nodded slowly. He shifted slightly in his seat, and catching a waft of his aftershave as he moved, Alex felt that kick to her stomach again, and moved on quickly.

‘
The next one is the same purple with a paler cream, and navy as a highlight colour. The print is floral, combining all three colours.’

‘
I like that one.’ Matter of fact, emotionless.

She nodded, concentrating on the board, making sure she didn’t make eye contact with him. Ridiculously, she thanked her lucky stars that she’d taken the time to paint her nails last night. It had been a last-ditch attempt to relax, take her mind off the following morning’s meeting, but now, sitting so close to him, she knew her nails were on full view and right now, she was grateful for every little boost to her confidence. Alex cleared her throat and continued,

‘
I like the florals. They are much more organic than the geometric prints, they suggest growth, like the business. I think they’re easier to live with, they create an environment rather than just making a statement, are less likely to date.’

In her peripheral vision, she could see him nodding. Jocelyn cut in before she could say more.

‘
Those fabrics are gorgeous aren’t they? And she’s quite right, the florals will be much easier on the eye, seem to suggest a nurturing environment. But they’re confident too. So many companies resort to dreadful abstracts, patterns that don’t mean anything to anyone. I always think they look like they’re trying to be too clever, don’t you? It doesn’t work for me at all.’

Alex nodded, ‘I’d have to agree with you. It’s different if you get an artist to produce something that you feel summarises your business and then use it to link your whole corporate image, but more often than not imitations of abstract art get tired very quickly.’

‘
And the last one?’ Sebastian sounded slightly impatient, like he thought the whole corporate image argument was a load of rubbish, women’s talk. Deliberately ignoring any hint of irritation, Alex continued calmly.

‘
Then the final one is another floral, but this time monotone – purple on cream. We’d bring both colours in as plain wall coverings and also as a matching print in reverse. I like the purple and navy together as a print as well, it lifts the whole story.’ She paused to continue, but he interrupted her.

‘
And cost? Is there any difference between the flowery ones and the angular prints?’

‘
Not between the first two. The third one I designed with the fabric supplier. It’s a big building so you would need enough fabric and wallpaper to justify having your own printed, but it will be slightly more expensive. The pattern is actually a close-up of the branches of the tree in your logo. I blew it up until it became an abstract, although still unmistakably natural, organic.’