Carrying His Baby

That would be far more disastrous than the slight hit your aesthetics might take from not having models wait on your guests. I also have a new portfolio of headshots, and a couple of wardrobe options that will blend in with the décor. We’ll be hardly noticed. Just our service.”

After the speech, she took a deep breath. Banks looked amused.

She was not amused.

“All right, Miss Holt, you raise a few valid concerns. If it will be strenuous work…”

“It will be, Mr. Banks. I need to have experienced people who know exactly what to do, when to do it. Models are trained to be visible. Catering staff need to be the opposite.”

Aldous Banks looked at her curiously. She wished she could read what was going on behind those blue eyes, but she had no idea.

“Fine, Miss Holt. I will bow to your superior judgment on the matter. Kindly send me profiles of all members of the staff – including chefs.”

“Will you be requiring a bartender, as well? I’m told you will be taking care of the wines and all spirits.”

“I shall be tending the bar myself, but I will need somebody to take over at a moment’s notice, yes.”

“You?”

He grinned. Hallie had to admit that if smiles could save the world, his was the world’s best shot.

“I assure you, I am quite adequate, Miss Holt. I have… experience, endurance and stamina.”

She almost blushed. The double entendre was thinly veiled. She struggled not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Do you have any more misgivings about the event? If you’re confident that we can handle it, I have the contract here for you to sign.”

He sat back and looked at her. She supposed many people would call that a mischievous look. She found it insolent.

“Can you tend a bar?”

Her mouth dropped open.

“I can fill in, yes, but I would prefer to hire somebody who has a background in flair bartending. It’s short notice for him, but The Specialist has already been contacted and the date of your event has been blocked.”

She saw a flicker of what she thought might have been admiration in his eyes. Everybody wanted to book him, and anybody throwing a party knew that.

She shrugged it off. She didn’t care if he admired her. It had nothing to do with her. He was a client, and she would do his event. She would do it well enough that he would hire them again. That was her goal.

All polite courtesy, she wished him a good day and she left, hauling all her stuff along. At least she hadn’t had to bring samples this time. He had already okayed all of them. At least he had good sense if he agreed with her menu suggestions. That was not quite a redeeming quality, but it made working with him a bit better.

To be honest, he hadn’t quite been as bad as she’d been expecting. It had gone quite well. Val would be pleased, she thought, as she made her way back to Soho again. Now she just needed to make sure that everything was absolutely perfect, and then they could start counting their chickens.

She had looked up his involvement in the social circuit and found that he threw parties of all kinds very often. He could be income for years if they did this right. She was determined to make it absolutely perfect.

So Hallie worked like a maniac for a week to get it all just right. On the day, she had everybody counting down like they were preparing for a satellite launch. She didn’t think there was any special op in the world that was done as meticulously as that little party.

She had got in touch with the hotel in TriBeCa where it was being held and coordinated on the décor. She’d had a few excellent ideas. If she wanted to go into complete event management, she felt she could do quite a good job.

At seven in the evening, everything was done. She had personally prepared half the desserts, and she knew they were divine. The food was wonderful. The drinks weren’t hers, but her bartender was ready and waiting. He was as good as entertainment.

There was a DJ and a string quartet. The string quartet would play for the first couple of hours, when everything had to be formal. She assumed much of the wheeling and dealing would be done then.

By ten, everybody was supposed to loosen up and the DJ was supposed to take over. It did all sound quite excellent. She felt a small twinge of uncharacteristic envy. She would’ve loved to attend the party as a guest.

Not her place, and she would have been bored among all those vapid people, she told herself. If they were his friends, they were bound to be vapid.

She hadn’t talked to the great Aldous Banks all week, of course. She had dealt with his admin, for whom she had developed a good deal of respect. Working with Layla was quite the experience. She had extremely high standards, and she knew she had impressed her by meeting them.

By eight, she was chewing her fingernails. She was nervous. She had never been that nervous about a job before.

Everything was perfect, she knew it, but she had butterflies in her stomach that simply wouldn’t settle down.

She briefed her team. Not models, thank heavens, but her team. She could count on every single one of them. Valerie and she were coordinating everything together. The event was just too big for her to run alone.

The Specialist was set up. The string quartet was playing, and guests were trickling in.

“Show time. Let’s be invisible and keep all glasses filled, and all bellies happy.”

In half an hour, she knew that everything was going absolutely perfectly. So why didn’t the butterflies in her stomach settle? She caught a glimpse of Aldous Banks and she felt them turn into a stampede of wild bulls.

He looked incredible in his tux. Any woman could be forgiven for being faced with a moment of completely blinding lust at the sight of him.

Deliberately, Hallie turned away, spotting wrinkles before they became wrinkles and smoothing them away. She had never before seen an event ticking so smoothly.

From the few snippets she had caught, the food was getting rave reviews. Her desserts were definitely going over well. The Specialist was doing his thing, and putting on quite a show, by ten. The string quartet packed it in. She made sure they were served everything they wanted, and tried to tune out the DJ.

Figures, she thought. The man had absolutely no taste in music. The one part of the event’s organization she’d had absolutely no say in was definitely the worst. She could feel that sneer forming as she listened to the thumping dance music. She liked dance music – but she liked good techno, or she liked good hip hop. She hated this popular music that was just the same beat, over and over and over again.

Taking a deep breath and telling herself to relax, she leaned against a pillar and tried to will the tension away.

“Miss Holt, you’ve done quite the job. Have a drink.”

Hallie felt suspicion, irrational though it was, and anger at her own reaction to him wash over herself.

Her voice was sharp and cutting when she replied, “I don’t drink on the job.”

“Surely you’re off for the evening now? Nobody’s eating anything anymore.”

“We’re still circulating with snacks and drinks,” said Hallie primly.

“Well, you seem to give all your waiting staff breaks. Don’t you take one yourself?”

“I’m taking five,” she pointed out.

“Then enjoy it,” said Banks, pushing what looked like a Bloody Mary towards her.

She looked at it as if she found it distasteful.

“I don’t drink anything that’s been poured and mixed for me, out of my sight.”

She saw his face harden when she said it.

“You think I’m trying to roofie you?”

For some strange reason, she felt inadequate when he said it. He said it as if he was incredulous at the very idea, apart from being insulted.

He was probably looking around him, amused, thinking of all the women who’d sleep with him if he just snapped his fingers at them. He had absolutely no reason to try to drug her into anything.

He probably thought that if he wanted, he could just turn on the charm and that would do the job for him.

“I don’t know you, Mr. Banks. I believe in not taking unnecessary risks. This counts as an unnecessary risk in my world,” she said primly.

“Fine, then, Miss Holt. Come with me.”