Part 20 (1/2)

'Oh, how so?' I ask baffled. And then it hits me. Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no! I lean back in my chair, instantly tensing from top to toe, and mentally beg the Lord Almighty to talk some sense into him before he says what I think he's going to say.

'I would like to ask you to join me for dinner.' He looks at me expectantly, and I'm sure my face must resemble that of complete horror. I'm burning up. 'Tomorrow evening, if it's convenient with you, of course.' he adds.

s.h.i.+t! What do I say? If I say no, he might withdraw his business from Rococo Union, and Patrick will go spare. What is it with men suddenly falling at my feet? Older men in particular? He's way past Jesse in terms of age. At least, I think he is. He's very good looking, but good G.o.d, he's got to be twenty years older than me. I inwardly laugh. At least he hasn't got me locked in a suite upstairs. How do I play this?

'Mr Van Der Haus...'

'Mikael, please.' he interrupts me with a smile.

'Mikael, I'm not sure mixing business with pleasure is a good idea. It's kind of a rule for me. I'm very flattered.' I laugh at my own audacity. Since when has that been an issue of late? And why did I say pleasure? I've a.s.sumed, and suggested, that it would be pleasurable to have dinner with him. It might not be, or it very well could be. Oh G.o.d! I mentally throw myself into the lovely fireplace.

'Oh, that is a shame, Ava.' he sighs.

'Yes, it is.' I agree, re-launching myself back into the hearth when he looks up in surprise.

He leans forward. 'I admire your professionalism.'

'Thank you.' I'm b.l.o.o.d.y blus.h.i.+ng again.

'I hope this won't affect our business relations.h.i.+p, Ava. I very much look forward to working with you.'

'I'm looking forward to working with you too, Mikael.'

He lifts himself from the couch, approaching me with his hand stretched out. Thank G.o.d! I take it, letting him gently shake it. Did he really just drag me here to ask me to dinner? He could have called me.

'I shall endeavor to email you at my earliest opportunity. Once I return from Denmark, I would like to show you around the building. Until then, you can draft some schemes. I've had the drawings sent to your office, and I'll email you the specifics.'

'Thank you, Mikael. Enjoy your trip.'

'Goodbye, Ava.' His long legs take him out of the snug.

Well, that was uncomfortable. I sit and finish my water while deliberating over my current emotional turmoil. If Jesse was as gracious as Mikael, then I wouldn't be feeling so s.h.i.+tty right now. Never mixing business and pleasure has never been a rule because I've never had to make one. In the s.p.a.ce of two weeks, I've had two wealthy and very handsome clients pursue me. One I've declined, the other I've caved in on. And, as a result, I'm all over the place. Not mixing business and pleasure is now a firm rule and one I intend to stick to. Not that I need to reinforce it. Mikael took my decline rather graciously and Jesse hasn't called since abandoning me. Abandoning?

By two thirty, I'm back in the office. I don't mention to Patrick the strangeness of my meeting with Mikael Van Der Haus, mainly because I'm concerned that, in the name of business, he'll demand I go to dinner with him. Patrick will a.s.sume it would be a business dinner, but Mikael made it perfectly clear that there would be no business involved. Instead, I just mention emails, drawings and his intention to show me the building upon his return from Denmark. This seems to keep him happy.

I get my phone from my bag, noting no missed calls. I ignore the pang of disappointment and start making a few notes on Scandinavian design. I know I'll be basing my design around clean, white, easy living, but I'm comforted by the fact that it will be tranquil and warm, not spa.r.s.e and cold.

My phone rings and I grab it, way too hastily. It's Kate.

'Hi.' I greet in an over the top, chirpy voice. I don't know why I bother. She sees straight through it.

'Faking detachment, are we?' she asks.

'Yes.'

'I thought so. Have you not heard from him?'

'No.'

'Liking monosyllables today, huh?'

'Yes.'

She sighs heavily down the phone. 'Whatever. Have you asked Victoria and Gayboy if they're up for Sat.u.r.day night?'

'No. I will, though. I've just got back from a very strange meeting.' I open my top drawer to grab a paperclip, noticing the calla lily squished down the side of my stapler.

'Strange how?' She's intrigued.

'I went to meet the developer of Lusso, well, one of them. He asked me to dinner. It was really uncomfortable.' I grab the lily and chuck it in the bin quickly.

She laughs down the phone at me. 'How old is this one?'

I bristle at her insinuation. He's much older than Jesse. How much older is unknown, but he's definitely older. I'll probably never know now, though. 'Mid-forties I guess, but extremely handsome, in a Scandinavian kinda way.' I shrug to myself while guiding my mouse aimlessly around the screen. He's nowhere near Jesse's league, but he's handsome, nonetheless.

'You're like a mature man magnet at the moment. Are you going?'

'No!' I screech. 'Why would I?'

'Why not?' I can't see her, but I know she has a questioning eyebrow arched.

'No, I can't, because I have a new rule...no mixing business with pleasure.'

'MOVE!' she screams, making me jump at my desk. 'Sorry, some prat just cut me up. No mixing business with pleasure, ah?'

'Yes. Are you driving and talking on your mobile, Miss Matthews?' I challenge her. I know Margo doesn't have a hands free kit.

'Yeah, I'd better beat feet. See you at home. And don't forget to tell Gay boy and Victoria the plans for Sat.u.r.day.'

'What are the plans?' I blurt before she hangs up.

'Get drunk, Baroque, eight o'clock.'

Get drunk. Yes, that's a very good plan.

I leave the office at six with Tom and Victoria. 'Sat.u.r.day night, Guys?'

Tom stops abruptly, dramatically putting his palms out with a shocked expression on his smooth, baby face.

'Oh my G.o.d, yes! I brought the most amazing coral s.h.i.+rt at lunch time. It's divine!'

Victoria giggles, slapping his a.r.s.e to push him onwards. 'Where are we going?' she asks.

'Baroque at eight.' I answer. 'We'll see where the night takes us.'

'I'm in!' Victoria sings at me. 'But no gay joints, Tom. It's my turn to pull.' she grumbles Tom frowns. 'What about me?'