of the coffee machine, hit the button and waited for it to dispense its magic juice.
‘I have a degree in art and a diploma in interior design and you have the taste of a polar bear,’ Riley retorted after taking a sip of her cup of coffee.
James took a notepad and pen out of the ceramic bowl—white—that held keys and coins and quickly added to a list he had running. And, talking of coffee, where the hell was his? He looked at the screen on the machine where it flashed the only words that, along with I’m pregnant with your child and Moreau stock is falling, had the ability to freeze his blood.
Replace coffee beans.
Especially when he had no damned coffee beans.
Despite his wealth and like the rest of his family, he tried to keep his life as normal as possible and that meant not having people pandering to his every whim. He had a cleaner come in on a regular basis, someone to do his laundry and his housekeeper kept the place stocked with cleaning materials, but he did his own food shopping. He enjoyed cooking and he liked to choose his own produce, liked exploring the food markets of NYC, the delis, the bakeries. Lately he’d been so busy that shopping for food was way down on his list of priorities.
But forgetting to buy coffee? That was unacceptable!
James snatched Riley’s cup out of her hands, ignored her protests and swallowed gratefully. Keeping the cup to his lips, he jotted another bullet point on the list before ripping it off and handing it over.
‘Give me back my coffee, Moreau.’ When he didn’t answer or comply, she glared at him before looking at the list in her hand. ‘What is this?’ ‘Read it.’
‘Christmas shopping … organise Christmas cocktail party … find Morgan and Noah’s wedding present … find your replacement … paint out your office … redesign my apartment … buy more coffee beans … What is this?’
‘Your to-do list. The reason you are here this morning. You said that you had nothing to do while you were working out your notice,’ James said mildly, enjoying the slow burn of anger pinking her cheeks as she read the list again. ‘I said that I would find you stuff to do.’
‘You have got to be kidding me.’
‘Nope. That’s what you are going to be doing after you get the Christmas windows up.’
Riley looked as if she wanted to bop him on the nose. He glanced down and noticed that her fists were clenched so he took a cautionary step backwards. Not that she would reach him, but why take the chance?
‘James, I am a professional artist, not a … a … a whatever who does this is!’
‘Then withdraw your resignation and sit on your pretty butt or take a holiday like you normally do.’ James emptied her coffee cup and pulled a face. ‘Coffee that costs over a hundred dollars a pound should be drunk black, Taylor.’
‘I never asked you to drink mine and I am not doing this!’ Riley shouted, waving the list in his face.
‘Then withdraw your resignation,’ James stated patiently. Over the years he’d learned that the way to defuse her temper was to keep his.
‘You can’t do this!’
‘Riley, honey, darling, sweetheart … I am doing this.’
Temper had her eyes flashing and her small chest heaving. ‘I could report you to Hannah, to Jedd. They’d be horrified at you doing this!’
She spat the words out like bullets and pushed every button he had.
He gripped her chin and made her look at him. Keeping a very firm grip on his now bubbling temper, he made certain that his words were very clear and very pointed. ‘Ten years ago, I asked you not to go travelling, to see if we had a chance at something and you allowed your father to talk you out of that idea. Now you want to involve my parents in another of our fights? Not happening, honey. This is between you and me. We’ll deal with each other like adults this time.’
He saw the embarrassment in her eyes, the humiliation in her wobbling chin and knew that she had been mouthing off in temper.
‘The problem is that you have me over a barrel, James. I have no options here.’
‘I gave you an option, Riley,’ James reminded her. ‘At the beginning of this process I asked you to talk to me, to explain why you were really going, but you won’t.’
‘We don’t talk well, James.’
‘Try.’
There was that obstinate shake of her head that he was expecting and he saw her mental retreat and knew that he’d lost the moment, lost her. Her words just confirmed it. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. I’m expecting a delivery of some last-minute goodies for my Christmas windows.’
Her eyes softened as she mentioned her windows and he immediately realised that she still loved her work, the art of creating. So whatever was going on with her wasn’t work-related. And it shouldn’t be since she had all the creative licence she required … hell, she had all the creative licence of every artist in the city. Riley didn’t answer to anyone, not even him. Riley worked the way Riley worked; she was innately in tune with what was hip and happening and her windows were always stunning and ahead of the trends. She might never ask for approval for her designs, which raised his control issues, but she’d yet to let them down so he couldn’t complain.
Wait, hold on … ‘What last-minute goodies?’
‘Oh, this and that.’
When Riley was vague that meant she was ducking the question. If she was ducking, then … Oh, dammit, Taylor.
‘Have they been paid for?’ James demanded, thinking of the skyrocketing costs of her windows. Riley waved his question away, which meant that the bill hadn’t come in yet. Hell. He thought about trying to explain the concept of a budget to her—again—but he didn’t have the energy.
‘We are blocking off the windows on Monday morning, we’ll work through Monday and Tuesday and reveal them on Wednesday night.’
‘Who’s the entertainer this year? Have you got permission to block off the street for those hours? Security?’
Riley closed her eyes in frustration. ‘James, I’ve been doing this for years. Lorelei Cranston, the Broadway star, is singing—’
‘I know who she is,’ James interrupted her.
‘The street will be closed off and the small stage will be erected on Wednesday afternoon. I’ve hired a ballet company to perform as well. There will be waiters circulating to dish out hot chocolate and cookies, your mum will drop the curtain. People will love it and tons of them will go into the store instead of buying online.’
‘You’re still over budget.’
‘But the cost to decorate the store windows is a fraction of what you would spend on a TV advertisement so suck it up. And I guess this will be another year that you won’t join the family when they come down to see what I’ve done.’
James
