‘You can have a look at them and let me know what you think, but I don’t think there will be a problem with any of them. I’ve also tentatively set up some tour ideas.’
Blake struggled to get over the way her proximity threatened to take over his senses, but he forced it to the back of his mind and listened to her explain some of the ideas she’d had. As she did, his own began to form. A business proposal that would complement what she had in mind. But he didn’t know if it would work without seeing it first.
‘Okay—great.’ He put down his glass of water and gestured towards the chair where her jacket lay. ‘Grab your things and we can go immediately.’
‘What?’ Her eyes widened.
‘I want you to show me these must-see locations. I mean, what you have is great—theoretically—but I need you to show them to me so that I know they work in practice.’
‘And you want to go right now?’
‘Yes.’ He walked to the door and opened it for her. ‘The longer we wait, the longer we delay finalising plans. And that’s not the way I work.’
Callie stood staring at him, as though at any minute he was going to say, Just joking! When she realised that it wasn’t going to happen, she grabbed her jacket and handbag and walked past him through the open door.
Her scent was still as enticing as it had been that first night, and for a brief moment—not for the first time—Blake wondered if he was making a mistake. He had asked her to work with him on impulse, although he had known it was a logical, even smart way of approaching the international investor angle once he’d had a chance to think about it. So why was it that he’d avoided working with her for the entire morning if he was so convinced that it was all business between them?
It didn’t matter, he thought, and shook away any lingering doubts. He had a job to do. And that job would come first.
* * *
Callie waited as John, the parking valet, pulled up in Blake’s silver sedan. This evidence of his wealth jostled her, though she knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Of course her boss had money, she thought, and watched Blake thank John and wave him away when the valet moved to open the door for her. Instead, Blake did it himself, and she got in, her skin prickling when she brushed against him by accident.
She ignored it, instead focusing on the car. It was just as luxurious on the inside as it was on the outside—as she’d expected—with gadgets that she didn’t quite think were necessary. But, then again, she drove an old second-hand car that made her arms ache every time she had to turn the wheel. Perhaps if she had thought about gadgets, she wouldn’t have to worry that her car might stall every time she drove it.
Nevertheless, she was proud of the little thing. It was the first car she’d ever bought, and she’d worked incredibly hard since leaving high school and saved every last rand to buy it. Granted, she’d worked for her parents, and she knew they had been liberal in their payment.
She smiled at the memory, and caught her breath when he asked, ‘What’s that for?’
She hadn’t realised he was paying attention to her. She should have known better. Always be on guard, she reminded herself.
‘I was just admiring your car. And comparing it with mine. It doesn’t,’ she said with a smile when he gave her a questioning look.
‘I bought it when I knew I was coming to Cape Town. I had no idea how long I was going to be here, and I didn’t want to impose on my father and use one of his indefinitely. I’ll probably sell it as soon as I know where I’m going next.’
Though her heart stuck on the information that he would be leaving, she asked, ‘You didn’t own a car before?’
‘I did. But I sold it a while ago—when I realised I would be travelling a lot more.’
‘But don’t you need one for when you’re at home?’
He took a right turn and glanced over to her. ‘I don’t have a home.’
For some reason Callie found that incredibly sad. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s a choice.’
She wanted to ask him why, but the silence that stretched between them made it clear that he didn’t want to reveal the reasons for that choice. She respected that. There were things she wouldn’t want to reveal to him either.
‘Blake, shouldn’t I be driving?’
He frowned. ‘Why? Can’t you direct me to where we’re going?’
‘I can, but that won’t give you the experience we’d be giving potential investors. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why we’re here?’
‘I suppose so.’ He signalled and pulled off to the side of the road.
They switched seats, and for a moment Callie just enjoyed the sleekness of the car. A car she would be driving for the day. She resisted the urge to giggle—and then the urge disappeared when she became aware of the other things sitting on the driver’s side meant. The heat of his body was almost embedded into the seat. She could smell him. She traced her hands over the steering wheel, thinking how his had been there only a few moments ago.
She cleared her throat, willing the heat she felt through her body to go away. After putting on her safety belt, she pulled back into the road and aligned her thoughts. But they stuck when she realised he was looking at her.
‘What?’ she asked nervously. ‘Am I doing something wrong?’
‘No.’ He smiled, and it somewhat eased the tension between them. ‘I just didn’t think this was how the day would turn out. You driving me around in my car.’
‘Are you disappointed?’ Callie turned left, a plan forming in her mind for their day. It was more of an outline, but she was sure it would suffice for something so last-minute.
‘No. You’re doing quite a remarkable job—especially considering I’m not a fan of being a passenger.’
‘Really?’ She glanced over in surprise. ‘I thought you would be used to being chauffeured.’
‘When the need arises, yes. But I try to keep those occasions to the minimum.’
‘Because you like to be the one in control?’
He frowned, and for a minute Callie thought she had gone too far.
‘Maybe, though I think it has more to do with my father. He loves his cars, and couldn’t wait to share that love with me. So I like to drive him when I can so we can talk about something other than the hotel.’
Callie felt her heart ache at the revelation she didn’t think Blake knew he had let slip. And, though a part of her urged her to accept the information about his relationship with his father without comment, she couldn’t help but say, ‘It must have made him proud that you took over his legacy. The hotels,’ she elaborated when she felt his questioning glance. ‘I read the article Corporate Times did on the two of you when he retired.’
She
