should have…But Jennie said you weren’t at the market today. I haven’t interrupted you on a house visit, in the middle of rifling through someone’s wardrobe, have I?’
‘No—ouch!’ Alice had turned to sit crosslegged on the floor and her head had made contact with the desk once more. ‘Actually, I’m rifling through someone’s network.’
There was a pause. ‘Did you say network?’
Alice nodded to herself. ‘Jennie really is sketchy on the details, isn’t she? I’m an IT consultant by day and a vintage fashion retailer by night. Think of it as my alter ego—my secret identity.’
‘Not so secret any more…now that you’ve told me.’
She grinned. He had a point there. Somehow she knew Cameron was grinning back on the other end of the line. For a few moments neither of them said anything, then Alice shook herself—literally—and decided to get back to business. Perhaps that would stop this slightly light-headed feeling that seemed to be sweeping over her.
‘I need to get an idea of what your new offices are like—to make sure what we’re planning matches the surroundings. The building is what we’ll be there to celebrate, after all, isn’t it?’
Just as she’d been able to ‘hear’ him smile, she now sensed him…what? Gloating?
‘You should see it. It’s something else—totally unique. An old nineteen-thirties factory on the Isle of Dogs. Classic Art Deco style. All the plant and machinery is gone, but we’ve done as much as possible to preserve the original features.’
A picture formed in Alice’s mind as he talked: geometrical shapes, cool white plaster, long horizontal windows. ‘It sounds fascinating. And what about the space for the party? Is there enough room? How big is it? Over how many levels?’
His voice was full of dry humour when he answered. ‘And you told me to slow down. One question at a time, Morton.’
But he didn’t sound displeased in the slightest. In fact, he addressed her queries one by one in detail, and she could tell from the tone of his voice he was enjoying the chance to talk about his current pet project.
‘I mean it. You need to see it, Alice. What are you doing tomorrow?’
Why don’t you get to the point, Cameron? Stop beating around the bush.
She frowned. ‘I was supposed to be sorting out a—’
‘Cancel it.’
Alice spluttered. ‘I can’t do that! My clients are relying on me.’
‘Give me the address and I’ll send a team from my own IT department. I’ll see to it you won’t lose any business because of this.’
It was all very well for Cameron to wave his magic wand and make all her objections disappear, but she wasn’t at all sure she wanted a bunch of strangers doing her work for her. But it was that or give up on the whole fashion show idea. And that meant delaying her launch into her new career, which she really wasn’t prepared to contemplate now it was almost within her grasp.
And by the way, Mr Hunter…See that mountain over there? You couldn’t just tell it to up and jump into the Thames, could you? It’s spoiling my view.
She was starting to realise that the focussed, determined young man she’d met all those years ago had matured into a formidable force. And something was bothering her. Something on the fringes of her consciousness.
‘Cameron?’
He stopped mid-flow, in the middle of giving her more potted history of his new building. ‘Yes?’
‘What did you say your company was called?’ Now she thought about it, she didn’t remember getting down to specifics—she’d been too busy pitching her idea.
‘Orion.’ He sounded puzzled. ‘Didn’t Jennie tell you that?’
Alice almost dropped her phone. ‘Orion?’ she whispered. ‘As in Orion Solutions?’
‘Yes. That’s it.’
Very clever.
Hunter…Orion…It all fitted now.
She’d booted up the computer on the desk above her only a couple of minutes ago. Full of Orion software. Like almost every other computer on the planet. Suddenly the air in her office had grown a little sparse. She wanted to open a window and stick her face outside into the cold air, but she had a feeling they were welded shut.
Had she just agreed to organise a party for the head of Orion Solutions—one of the fastest growing software enterprises in the world? Boy, she was way out of her league. Way, way out of her league.
But this was Cameron. The young man she’d hidden out at a Christmas party with.
No, it wasn’t working. She couldn’t marry the two ideas together in her head, even though she knew deep down he must have changed since then. Just talking to him, she sensed subtle changes. Now it all made sense. He’d always been reserved and precise. But now when he talked there was an unmistakable undercurrent of confidence and inner strength she’d always sensed had been there which now had risen to the surface. Would he have changed on the outside too? Twelve years was a long time.
The mental image that thought conjured up was appealing. She could see a tall, slim man—not gangly and awkward any more—with the same unruly dark hair that curled past his collar. His eyes would be the same warm brown, but there would be more lines round his mouth and at the corners of his eyes.
There was a meaningful cough from beyond the desk. Alice noticed a pair of pinstriped legs move a few steps closer. Mr Rogers. She’d forgotten all about him.
‘I better go,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘I’ll meet you at noon.’ He reeled off the address of his new headquarters.
As he spoke, she was vacantly staring at a web of cables off to her left. Something drew her attention—some instinct told her to take a closer look. And then she spotted it—the source of all of the solicitors’ problems. It was going to be a nasty job to sort out but, hey, ‘nasty’ normally meant ‘time-consuming’, and that translated into more cash. Something she was only too glad of.
‘Alice? Is that okay?’ The deep, rich voice made her jump.
‘No…yes…that sounds fine. I’ll see you then.’
Cameron rang off with his normal brevity, and Alice crawled over to the knot of cables she’d been inspecting. There was a murmur and a shuffle and the pinstriped legs moved even closer.
‘Anything I can do?’ a thin voice enquired.
Mr Rogers wasn’t being helpful—far from it; he had the air of someone trying to hurry someone else along. Fair enough, since he paid for her services by the hour.
‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, running her thumb and forefinger along a stretch of wire to check where it disappeared to. ‘But I’d love a cup
