and were highly involved in community events. They were greatly admired, and Daman had always liked the fact that they were a close-knit family.
It dawned on him to whom the Simses were referring when they spoke of the loss of Imani’s grandmother during their meeting the other day. He remembered reading about her death a few years ago. From various articles and interviews, he knew that Faith or “Gamine”—as close family and friends affectionately called her—was a remarkable woman.
“I’m sorry about Mrs. Burrstone.”
Imani grew quiet before speaking. “Thanks. I miss Gamine a lot, but I know she’s in a better place.”
“I know the feeling. I lost my father a while ago.”
Daman wasn’t sure why he had shared that information with her. He didn’t share personal information about himself readily. He watched her trying to read his face and wanted to tell her to give up, since he wasn’t an easy person to read.
“I know,” she replied. “I did a little research on you before I got here. It must be hard for you. I couldn’t imagine losing a parent.”
Shrugging his shoulders, he blew off her words. The waiter stopped by their table, took their dinner orders and left again. After silent seconds ticked into minutes, Daman decided to get to the business at hand.
“So I’ve been thinking a lot about Mr. and Mrs. Sims’s proposal and I don’t think there’s any harm in planning the gala and deciding who will get the estate.”
“I agree,” Imani replied. “I think good things can come out of planning the gala, and Mr. and Mrs. Sims have done more than their fair share for the community over the years. Have you ever planned an event this large before?”
“Yes. I’ve planned many client events and conferences for my company, Barker Architecture. I double majored in college so I have my bachelor’s in both hospitality management and architecture. After college, I got my master’s in business and marketing so I guess you can say I’m a jack of many trades.”
“That’s good to hear,” Imani said.
“I heard you own an event-planning company, but rest assured I’ll be able to handle my part of the planning,” Daman added.
“So you’ve heard of me?” Imani asked, appearing impressed.
Daman had researched her after their initial meeting and clicked on the first link that popped up. He didn’t know much, but the article he read was about her company.
“I heard a little something,” Daman responded. “Then we have an understanding? We’re planning the gala?”
“Yes, we have an understanding. But we need to decide how to split the duties, which days we have to go to Atlanta and who will go.”
“I guess you didn’t check your email?” Daman asked.
“No. Why, did you send me a message?” She reached for her iPhone and started scrolling through.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sims did. It’s filled with information we would need to know just in case we decided to accept their proposal. We can change the schedule slightly, but not much. This is going to require a lot more effort than I thought, but I can adjust my schedule to manage it.”
Daman pulled out a printed copy of the email and passed it to Imani.
He watched her expression as she glanced over the schedule. “There will hardly be any free time between work and organizing the gala.” She seemed a little concerned.
Daman nodded in agreement. He liked the way her face wrinkled as she read the schedule. She didn’t seem like the spontaneous type, so he figured the proposal threw her for a loop. He knew her type, and once you met one, you’ve met them all. Everything she did was probably calculated. He was the complete opposite. He lived for the moment and never thought too far in advance. He’d glanced at the schedule long enough to know a lot of work was ahead, but that was all.
“Imani, are you okay?” Daman asked. She had continued to look at the schedule even after they’d eaten the dinner that had been served.
She finally looked up from the paper after hearing Daman’s voice. He could see the wheels in her brain turning.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that if we have to follow this schedule, it seems we’re going to be together a lot.”
Her face became apprehensive. Interesting. “Do you have a problem being around me?” He smiled slyly. “I know I’m sexy and all, but I’m sure you can keep your hands off me long enough for us to plan the gala.”
He didn’t know why he was provoking her. It usually took longer for a woman to strike his interest enough for him to even participate in any type of banter. She was different from most women he dated...not that this was a date, he reminded himself. The more he flirted with her, the angrier she got, and he liked the effect he was having on her.
“By no means do you affect me, Daman Barker, and you won’t distract me from my work. I’m going through with this proposal because I want my estate. I simply didn’t know it required so much of my free time.”
Hmmm...she doesn’t intimidate easily. I like that. “By my estate, I hope you’re talking about the smaller one.”
Imani took another sip of her wine and adjusted the sleeves of her soft coral blouse. Leaning over the table, she stated in a clear voice, “No, I’m talking about the larger estate that you will agree to let me have after we plan this gala.”
He laughed at Imani’s bold statement. He had no intentions of letting her have the larger estate. “You know something, you seem very confident. Maybe too confident.”
“I don’t seem confident, Daman. I know the estate will be mine.”
He winked at her and laughed when she rolled her eyes. He was sure she was usually very professional, but he was throwing her off her game. She obviously didn’t like the look he was giving her, or probably any of the other looks he’d been giving her all evening.
“Daman, when I set my mind to something, I usually get what I want. And in this case, I want that estate, even if it means working long and excruciating hours with someone as arrogant as you.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d been called arrogant, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He was only arrogant when backed into a corner. Imani hadn’t done much, but he felt a growing need to push her buttons.
“You’re clearly used to winning competitions. Well, I guarantee you that this is a competition you’ll lose. Besides, you can’t help that you’re attracted to me. Most women are.”
With a laugh, she looked him dead in the eye. “Daman, from what I’ve read about you on the internet, I know I’m not your type. Your name has been linked to the ditzy type—you know, women who can barely think for themselves. You’re handsome and all, but you’re definitely not my type. And I’m calling you on your crap because yesterday you were so into me that you could barely listen to the Simses. I saw it in your eyes—looking me up and down as if I were a plate of meat. You see me as a challenge, but trust me when I say that you can’t handle a woman like me. So do us both a favor and get off your high horse.”
He
