And she cursed him for still having the ability to make her feel that way.
‘Okay, great.’
He smiled at her, though there was something behind it that she hadn’t seen before. ‘So let’s get to it. There’s a lot of work to be done.’
Her heart stopped. ‘You’re going to help with this?’
He nodded. ‘That’s generally what’s meant by “together”.’
‘I just thought you meant all the staff.’
‘Oh, everyone will help. But you and I will be running it.’ He sat down and started typing on his laptop. ‘We seem to work well together.’
She stared at him, wondering who had kidnapped the surly boss she’d worked with before and replaced him with this cordial man in front of her.
‘Yeah, apparently we do.’
‘ARE YOU READY to go?’
Blake stood in the doorway of her office and she nodded, scribbling a note to remind herself to check when the lights for the gala event would arrive for set-up.
‘Let’s do this.’ She grabbed her handbag and locked up, following him to the front of the hotel. ‘I think I might actually be looking forward to this.’
He laughed and nodded his thanks when John pulled the car in front of them. ‘It’s food—what’s not to look forward to?’
How about the fact that we have to do this together?
But she smiled in response, clinging to the truce that had settled between them over the last few days. The proposals were going well, and now, since the German investor they had seen today had had to attend another meeting in the afternoon, they had some more time to work on the gala event.
Blake had arranged that they do a tasting to ensure the catering for the event was good, and she had resigned herself to the fact that she had to go. Eating together—even professionally—seemed dangerously close to a date, but Callie had agreed because she didn’t want to rock the boat between her and Blake. She almost rolled her eyes at the description—why did it need to be a boat?—but then remembered that Blake always seemed to be watching her recently. And she didn’t want to invite any questions she wasn’t willing to answer.
‘We never really spoke about how you chose this restaurant,’ she said once they were in the car, hoping to stop her annoying train of thought.
‘This is one of the rare restaurants I’ve actually been to in Cape Town.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ He glanced over at her, but his expression was closed. ‘My father has been friends with the owner since before I was born. When we did go out together, it was generally there.’
She frowned. ‘Then why are we doing a tasting, if you already know how the food tastes?’
‘For several reasons. One being that they’ve recently hired a new chef. He came with new menus, and I haven’t had a chance to taste anything on them yet. Another is that I need you to make sure I’ve made a decent choice and not just gone with something I know because I trust that the catering will be reliable.’
It made sense, she thought, though she wished he might have said, Oh, I see your point—we can just skip this.
‘There’s a lot to be said for reliability,’ she said. ‘The last thing we want on Friday is to worry that the food won’t be good or won’t arrive when it should.’
‘Which is why I hope you’ll give this place the stamp of approval.’
Callie didn’t answer, instead looking out of the window at the hills they passed. She didn’t come to this side of Cape Town very often, she thought, as the hills become vineyards. It was a popular venue for large events—weddings, especially—and many of the vineyards offered wine-tastings. Though she had recommended it as a weekend activity for her guests, she had never considered including it on her tours since she knew they would always be battling traffic to get back to the hotel in the afternoons. And, more importantly, she didn’t want to deal with tipsy guests and the potential problems they brought.
As Blake turned on to a gravel road that slowly inclined Callie looked up to the top and saw a building made mostly of glass. It was beautifully designed, with curves that spoke of specialised techniques and artistry even to an amateur eye like hers.
‘Is that it?’ she breathed, but didn’t need an answer when Blake pulled into the car park. ‘It’s amazing.’
‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘And the inside is even better.’
He guided her into the restaurant, where they were greeted politely, and while Blake spoke to the maître d’ Callie looked around and was forced to agree with Blake about the interior design. Wooden tiles swept across the floor and chandeliers hung from the roof. The glass exterior meant that the restaurant’s patrons were treated to a spectacular view of the winelands and, from their position at the top of the hill, some of the city as well.
They were led up spiralling stairs, from where Callie could appreciate the decor of the restaurant even more. It was definitely an upper-class restaurant, but the subtle touches of warmth—like the soft yellow and white table settings—made her think that the owners wanted to avoid the alienating effect more expensive restaurants often had.
When they finally stopped climbing she was out of breath, and she looked around, realising that they had climbed to the top of the building while she had been distracted by aesthetics. And then the maître d’ led them through a door and she lost her breath altogether.
‘Blake...’ she said, but couldn’t even continue as she took in the beauty of their location.
She was standing on the rooftop of the restaurant, overlooking the view she had thought so spectacular only a few moments ago. Except now she felt that description had been overzealous, since what she was looking at from here was better than the view through the glass walls.
Blake smiled at her reaction and led her to a table at the edge of the rooftop, from where she could see everything merely by turning her head to the left.
‘How did you arrange this?’ she asked, when they were seated and the maître d’ had been replaced by a perky waitress.
‘Connections,’ he said, and shrugged as though sitting on the roof of a restaurant was normal. ‘I take it you like it?’
‘I really do.’
‘So do I,’ he said, and looked out to the view. There was a slight breeze that helped lessen the effect of the summer sun and rustled through Blake’s hair like leaves during the autumn. ‘I don’t think I will ever get tired of this.’
She had been wrong, she realised. Even though getting them to the rooftop might have been easy for her boss, the experience wasn’t lost on him. That loosened something inside her—something that had stuck the night she had told him to forget
