handsome man on the planet she would have to get used to a few fireworks going off inside her, Casey reasoned. She’d just have to use them to fire her determination. ‘I’ll have help to organise the event, I take it?’ She was already off and running. Her mind had jumped three days ahead and was rapidly filling in the blank spaces in between.
‘You’ll have professional party-planners and my team. All you have to do is handle the auction. If I can give you a word of advice—use your strengths.’
‘I intend to.’
‘Good. Sell the goods and get the most you can for them. That’s it.’
That’s it? Raffa’s gesture had encompassed not just this small room, but the warehouse outside. He really did have a different set of perspectives.
‘Thank you for entrusting me with such an important task.’
He didn’t like that. His brow rose. ‘I employ the best, Casey. I expect the best from them. Nothing less will do. If you fail—’
It was like being on a see-saw—first up, then down; she had better make sure her next move wasn’t out, Casey concluded. ‘I won’t fail.’
They stared at each other like combatants across a ring, each of them measuring the other.
‘Whatever happens, unsold items can be offered on the open market after the auction,’ Raffa explained. ‘But you’ll make more during the auction, so I’m relying on you to appeal to each individual’s …’
‘Better nature?’ Casey suggested.
‘Exactly,’ Raffa agreed, sharing an ironic look with her.
‘Then please leave it to me,’ she said, feeling quietly confident suddenly, as right out of the blue an idea occurred to her.
Casey stared in surprise at the low-slung roadster waiting for them by the kerb. ‘No Lamborghini?’ She turned to Raffa.
‘No limousine either …’ His lips curved, making her heart bounce. ‘Knowing your distaste of excess, I thought I’d introduce you to my new green baby.’
‘Green?’ Casey’s forehead pleated with disbelief as she stared at the speed monster crouched on the road.
‘This is the latest in electric vehicles,’ Raffa explained, walking round the impressive sports car. ‘She does nought to sixty in three point nine seconds, making her somewhat faster than a Lotus and almost on a par with my Ferrari, and yet she costs me less than one penny per mile to run.’
‘She?’ She should have known better, Casey realized, as Raffa ran one hand lovingly across the flanks of his new motor car. ‘And it’s cheap to buy, of course?’ she said, tongue in cheek.
Raffa shot a glance at her that made her cheeks fire up.
‘It’s very … striking,’ she admitted, back-pedalling rapidly. In fact, the sleek black beast was the perfect servant of its master.
‘Go on,’ Raffa prompted her dryly. ‘Say it, Casey.’
‘Say what?’ She tensed.
‘It’s sexy …’
Yes, it was—and so was he. But no way was she getting into that.
He had decided to take Casey somewhere she could relax, and where they could continue getting the measure of each other. If she was going to be working for him he had to get to know her, and if she pulled off this auction she would be a real contender for the job. She didn’t know it yet, but all the other applicants had backed out by this stage, or he’d sent them home. If one of the others had offered to run his auction he would have thought it bravado, and wouldn’t have trusted them to do it, but something about Casey suggested he should give her a chance. He’d have someone ready and waiting in the wings in case she got stage fright. This charity was too important to risk on his whim. But as whims went …
‘Get in,’ he said, when she hesitated by the car door.
‘Where are we going?’
She was so wary. It gave him a jolt to see how quickly she could change from confident businesswoman to this. ‘I’m going to take you for a well-earned drink,’ he said. ‘Maybe lunch, if you’d like? Well? What are you waiting for? It isn’t rocket science; yes or no?’
She was waiting for courage and self-belief. She was wondering how to handle all the personal insecurities she felt as a woman, with this man who had no insecurities at all, and how to handle feelings for him that had no connection with the job.
* * *
Raffa took her to what had to be the most fashionable club in the city, judging by the fabulous array of gleaming vehicles parked outside. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be noticed here, she thought, but Raffa didn’t seem to care. He made no attempt to claim special status as the manager of the club hurried to greet them.
‘Are you ready?’ he said, offering her his arm.
She’d bet the glamorous women entering the club in front of them with their handsome escorts hadn’t picked out their clothes from the bargain rail. It seemed incredible that she was about to take the arm of the ruling Sheikh. But as she did she realised his bodyguards were just an invisible step away. ‘Do they have to come with us?’ she asked. She found them so intrusive and forbidding.
‘They don’t have to do anything you don’t want them to …’
She felt his strength then, and just for a moment experienced what it would be like to have a man like Raffa in her life. She felt cherished and protected when she was with him.
But she wasn’t with Raffa, Casey reminded herself before her imagination ran away with her. He was her boss and he was taking her to lunch. And the touch of his hand on her arm … and his body brushing against hers …
‘Why are you shivering? Are you cold?’ he said as the maître d’ led them inside.
Cold? Did frigid translate into A’Qabani?
Raffa gave her a reassuring squeeze. ‘Courage,’ he murmured, his warm breath brushing her ear. ‘Many of your potential buyers at the auction will be here. You do want to give them the right impression, don’t you?’
Of course she did. And those few words tipped the balance of the internal see-saw inside her back to business.
As she glanced around the exclusive club Casey realised that some of the younger women present appeared to be glued to every word their companions had to say. They laughed on cue, stared in awe on cue, and rarely spoke unless they were asked a direct question. How long was she going to last here?
It would be useful research, her business head reminded her.
‘Could we sit somewhere where I can people-watch?’
‘If you’d find it helpful …’ he replied. ‘Champagne?’ Raffa suggested once they were settled at a table.
‘I’d prefer juice?’
‘Juice
