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Under his direction, Dylan’s company had produced concerts of such spectacular proportions they’d gone down in rock history. His concerts had become a yardstick for all those following.
FWE had been in charge of last year’s sensationally successful charity benefit held in Madison Square Garden in New York. He was regularly hired by royalty to oversee national anniversary celebrations, and by celebrities for their private birthday parties and gala events. Dylan Fairweather was a name with a capital N.
‘The thing is...’ He shuffled towards her, his expression intent now rather than teasing. ‘I know that Plum Pines has its own events team, but I want to be the person running this particular show.’
Very slowly, she swallowed. ‘By “this particular show”, I take it you’re referring to Carla’s wedding?’
He nodded.
Her heart thumped. Nora would be disappointed.
‘I want to do this for Carla,’ he continued, fully in earnest now. ‘The only thing I can give her that’s of any worth is my time. You have to understand it’s not that I don’t trust the Plum Pines staff, it’s that I want to give my sister something that’ll actually mean something to her—something she can cherish forever.’
Mia almost melted on the spot. To have someone who cared about you so much that they’d go to such lengths... That was—
‘Mia?’
She started. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the kind of clout to authorise an arrangement like that. But I’ll present your case to Nora and Mr Coulter. Please be assured they’ll do everything they can to accommodate your and Carla’s wishes.’ She bit her lip. ‘They may have some additional questions that they’d like to ask you.’ Questions she lacked the expertise and foresight to ask.
He immediately slid his business card across the table to her. ‘They can contact me at any time.’
She picked it up. It was a simple card on good-quality bond, with embossed lettering in dark blue—a deeper and less interesting shade than his eyes.
He slid another card across the table to her. ‘Would you write down your number for me, Mia?’
She dutifully wrote down the Plum Pines office number, along with Nora’s work number.
He glanced at it and his lips pursed. ‘I was hoping for your number.’
Her hand shook as she reached for her tea. ‘Why?’
‘Because I think you could be an ally. You, I believe, approve of my plan to be Carla’s wedding co-ordinator.’
She hesitated. ‘I think it’s a lovely idea.’ Surely it couldn’t hurt to admit that much? ‘But I think you ought to know that I have very little influence here.’
‘I think you’re selling yourself short.’
‘If you want to speak to me directly, ring the office and ask them to page me.’ She couldn’t believe she’d told him to do that, but she couldn’t find it in herself to regret the offer either.
For a moment she thought he’d press the matter. Instead he stood and held out his hand. ‘Until tomorrow, then, Mia.’
She stood too and shook it, eager to be away from him. ‘Goodbye, Dylan.’
She didn’t tell him that in all likelihood she wouldn’t see him tomorrow. Funny how suddenly the eastern boundary didn’t seem as exciting a prospect as it had earlier in the day.
She’d barely settled down in the meeting room with the office laptop, to type up her copious notes for Nora, when the receptionist tapped on the glass door.
‘Mr Coulter wants to see you, Mia.’
To grill her about how things had gone with the Fairweathers, no doubt. She’d have rather discussed it all with Nora first, but she couldn’t very well refuse to speak to him.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked on his door, only entering when he bellowed, ‘Come in.’
She left the door ajar. She didn’t fully trust Gordon Coulter. ‘You wanted to see me?’
‘Yes.’
He didn’t invite her to sit. The smile he sent her chased ice down her spine.
‘It’s my very great pleasure to inform you, Ms Maydew, that you’re fired. Effective immediately.’
The room spun. Mia’s chest cramped. She couldn’t lose this job. It was all that she had. Her fingers went cold. She needed this job!
* * *
‘You’re terminating my contract? But...why?’
Dylan stood on the threshold of Gordon Coulter’s office, his head rocking back at the words he heard emerging from the other side of the door.
Gordon Coulter was firing Mia?
‘Your behaviour with Dylan Fairweather today was scandalous and utterly inappropriate. You’re not here to make sexual advances towards our clients. You’re here to perform your duties as efficiently and as capably as possible—a duty that’s obviously beyond you and your bitch-on-heat morals.’
Darkness threatened the edges of Dylan’s vision. Mia hadn’t made one inappropriate advance towards him—not one! His hands curled into fists. A pity the same couldn’t be said for him towards her. He hadn’t been able to resist flirting with her in the café—just a little bit. He hadn’t been able to resist making her laugh again.
This was his fault. How could he have been so careless as to put her in this position?
Gordon continued to wax lyrical on a list of Mia’s imaginary faults and Dylan’s insides coiled up, tight and lethal. Gordon Coulter was a pompous ass!
‘But even if I was prepared to overlook all that,’ Gordon continued, his tone clearly saying that he had no intention of doing so, ‘I refuse to disregard the fact that when you entered the emu enclosure you put the safety of a member of the public at risk.’
No way, buddy!
Dylan backed up two steps and then propelled himself forward with a cheery, ‘Knock-knock!’ before bursting into the office.
Two sets of eyes swung to him. Mia’s face was ashen. Guilt plunged through him like a serrated-edge knife.
You’re nothing but a trust fund baby without substance or significance.
As true as that might be, it meant that he knew how to act entitled and high-handed. He used that to his advantage now, striding into the room as if he owned it and everything inside it.
‘You moved very quickly to bring my proposal to the attention of your superiors, Mia. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’
He took a seat across from Gordon, making himself completely at home.
‘I hope you realise what a gem you have here, Gordon.’ He pulled Mia down to the seat beside him. How dared Gordon leave her standing like some recalcitrant child deserving of punishment and castigation? ‘Have you finished telling Gordon about my proposal, Mia?’
‘Um...no, not yet.’
She swallowed and he saw how valiantly she hauled her composure back into place. Atta girl!
‘I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance.’
‘Oh, before I forget—’ Dylan turned back to Gordon ‘—my sister and I will be returning tomorrow with Thierry. If he approves our plans, and if you accept my proposal, then we’ll be booking Plum Pines as Carla and Thierry’s wedding venue.’
Dollar signs all but flashed in Gordon’s eyes. ‘That’s splendid news!’
‘Carla has requested that Mia be available for tomorrow’s meeting. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.’
‘Well, I—’
‘Now to my proposal...’ he continued, making it obvious that he took Gordon’s agreement for granted. He saw Mia bite her lip, as if to hold back a laugh. The tightness in his chest eased a fraction.
‘While I understand that Plum Pines has a talented and capable events team, I want to be completely in charge of Carla’s wedding preparations—bringing in my own people, et cetera. I understand this isn’t how Plum Pines normally operates, but if I promise to acquire all the necessary licenses and, as a show of gratitude, donate...say...a hundred thousand dollars to the Plum Pines Nature Fund, I was hoping you might make an exception.’
Gordon’s fleshy mouth dropped open. He hauled it back into place. ‘I’m sure we can find a way to accommodate such a reasonable request from such a generous benefactor.’
Dylan rubbed his hands together. ‘Excellent.’
Gordon Coulter was ridiculously transparent. Rumour had it he was planning to run for mayor next year. A donation as sizable as Dylan’s would be a real feather in his cap. Dylan just hoped the good people of Newcastle were smart enough not to elect such a small-minded bully to office.
He made a note to donate a large sum to Gordon’s opponent’s campaign.
‘If there’s any further way we can assist you, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re here to provide you with the very best service we can.’
‘Well, now that you mention it... Carla would like Mia as her official liaison between FWE and Plum Pines.’
Gordon’s face darkened. ‘Mia doesn’t have the necessary training. We can provide you with a far better level of service than that, and—’
‘It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid.’ He spoke calmly. ‘If there’s no Mia there’ll be no Fairweather wedding at Plum Pines—and, sadly, no hundred-thousand-dollar donation.’
It was as simple as that, and Gordon could take it or leave it. If he refused to let Mia act as liaison then Dylan would whisk her away from Plum Pines and find a position for her in his own organisation. He was always on the lookout for good people.
In fact, poaching her was a damn fine plan.
Gordon wouldn’t pass on it, though. Dylan knew his type too well.
‘If you’re happy with Mia’s limited experience...’ he began, in that pompous fashion.
‘Supremely so.’
‘I’ll have to insist that she consult with Nora closely,’ he blustered, in an attempt to save face.
‘Absolutely.’
Gordon swallowed a few times, his jowls quivering. ‘In that case I’ll raise no objections.’
Dylan leant back in his chair. ‘Excellent.’
Mia leaned forward in hers, her dark gaze skewering Gordon to the spot. ‘And our earlier conversation...?’
His mouth opened and closed before he shuffled upright in his seat. ‘In the light of these...new developments, any further action will be suspended—pending your on-the-job performance from here on in.’
Very slowly she leaned back. Dylan silently took in the way her fingers opened and closed around each other. Eventually she nodded. ‘Very well.’
Dylan stood. ‘I understand you’re a busy man, Gordon, so I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. Mia...’ He turned to her and she shot to her feet. ‘I forgot to give you Carla’s mobile number. You’re going to need it. I’m afraid she’ll be leaving you messages day and night.’
‘That won’t be an issue,’ Gordon inserted. ‘Mia understands that here at Plum Pines our clients are our priority. She’ll be at your sister’s beck and call twenty-four-seven.’
Dylan barely restrained himself from reciting the ‘Maximum Ordinary Hours of Employment’ section of the New South Wales Industrial Relations Act. Instead he gestured for Mia to precede him out through the door.
‘Lead me to your trusty notepad.’
He closed the door behind them and Mia didn’t speak until they were safely ensconced in the meeting room.
She swung to him. ‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You overheard him trying to fire me so you jumped in and saved my job.’
His chest expanded at the way she looked at him—as if he’d ridden in and saved the day.
She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘I think I just fell a little bit in love with you.’
She was the strangest mix of seriousness and generosity he’d ever come across. And totally adorable to boot.
He leaned towards her, but she took a step backwards.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was a stupid thing to say. I only meant I was grateful—very grateful—for you coming to my defence like you did.’
‘You’re welcome. Gordon is a pompous ass.’
‘A pompous ass who has the power to terminate my traineeship whenever he sees fit.’
‘He’d need to show good cause in the Industrial Relations Court. Don’t you forget that. In fact—’ he widened his stance ‘—why don’t you forget Gordon and Plum Pines and come and work for me?’
The beginnings of a smile touched her lips. It made his pulse beat that little bit harder.
‘I don’t believe I have enough...exuberance for your line of work, Dylan.’
‘I was wrong about that. You’re perfect.’
‘No, I’m not!’ Her voice came out tart. Too tart.
He frowned. ‘I meant that your work ethic is perfect. Your customer service skills are impeccable.’ That was all he’d meant.
She swallowed before gesturing for him to take a seat. ‘If you want me working so closely with you and Carla then there’s something you need to know about me.’
He sat in the chair at the head of the table. ‘I know all I need to know.’
She fixed him with that compelling gaze of hers, but for the life of him he couldn’t read her expression. She took the chair immediately to his left, gripping her hands together until her knuckles turned white.
‘I’d rather be the one to tell you than for you to hear it from other sources.’
He straightened. What on earth...? ‘I’m listening.’
He watched the compulsive bob of her throat as she swallowed. Her hands gripped each other so tightly he was sure she’d cut off the blood supply to her fingers if she weren’t careful.
‘Ten months ago I was released from jail after serving a three-year prison sentence for committing fraud. I think it’s only fair that you know I’m an ex-convict.’
CHAPTER THREE
MIA WAITED WITH a growing sense of dread for Dylan’s face to close and for him to turn away.
His open-mouthed shock rang through her like a blow, but his face didn’t close. He didn’t turn away.
His frown did deepen, though, and she could read the thoughts racing behind the vivid blue of his eyes.
‘No,’ she said, holding his gaze. ‘I wasn’t wrongfully convicted, there were no mitigating circumstances.’ She swallowed. ‘Unless you want to count the fact that I was young and stupid.’
And utterly in thrall to Johnnie Peters. So in love she’d have done anything he’d asked of her. So in love she had done anything he’d asked of her.
‘You’re not going to tell me any more than that?’
Curiosity sharpened his gaze, but it wasn’t the kind of avid, voyeuristic curiosity that made her want to crawl under a rock. It held a warmth and sympathy that almost undid her.
Swallowing again, she shook her head. ‘It’s sordid and unpleasant and it’s in the past. According to the justice system, I’ve paid my debt to society. I won’t ever steal again. I’ll never break the law again. But I understand that in light of these circumstances my word isn’t worth much. I’ll completely understand if you’d prefer to deal with Nora rather than with me.’
He didn’t say anything.
‘You don’t need to worry about my job. You’ve done enough to ensure I won’t be fired...at least, not this week.’ She’d aimed for levity, but it fell flat.
He lifted his chin. ‘I meant what I said—come and work for me.’
She realised now what she’d known on a subconscious level after only ten minutes in his company—Dylan Fairweather was a good man.
‘I appreciate the offer, I really do, but besides the fact that you don’t know me—’
‘I know you have a good work ethic. If the way you’ve treated Carla is anything to go by, where clients are concerned nothing is too much trouble for you. They’re valuable assets in an employee.’
‘According to Gordon I have a problem with authority.’
He grinned, and leaned in so close she could smell the nutmeg warmth of his skin. ‘That’s something we have in common, then.’
How was it possible for him to make her laugh when they were having such a serious conversation? She sobered, recalling her earlier impulsive, I think I just fell a little bit in love with you. She should never have said it. Instinct warned her that Dylan could wreak havoc on her heart if she let him.
She couldn’t let him. She wasn’t giving any man that kind of power over her again.
She pulled in a breath. ‘I was fortunate to be awarded this traineeship. The opportunity was given to me in good faith and I feel honour-bound to make the most of it.’
‘Admirable.’
It wasn’t admirable at all. She needed a job—a way to earn a living. For the two-year tenure of her traineeship she’d be in paid employment. Maybe at the end of that time she’d have proved herself worthy and someone would take a chance on employing her. She needed a way to support herself. After what she’d done she couldn’t ask the welfare system to support her.
‘Do you have a passion for conservation?’
‘Conservation is an important issue.’
‘That’s not the same thing,’ he pointed out.
Passion was dangerous. She’d done all she could to excise it from her life. Besides, busying herself with weed extermination programmes, soil erosion projects, and koala breeding strategies—plants, dirt and animals—meant she had minimal contact with people.
And as far as she was concerned that was a very good thing.
‘Here.’ He pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket. ‘This is the real reason I came back to the office.’
Frowning, she took it, careful not to touch him as she did so.
‘You said chocolate belonged in a class of its own and...’
He shrugged, looking a little bit embarrassed, and something inside her started to melt.
No melting!
‘I wanted to thank you for your patience with both Carla and me today.’
‘It’s—’
‘I know—it’s your job, Mia.’
Dear Lord, the way he said her name...
‘But good work should always be acknowledged. And...’ An irrepressible smile gathered at the corner of his mouth. ‘I fear more of the same will be asked of you tomorrow.’
It took a moment for his words to sink in. ‘You mean...?’
‘I mean we want you, Mia. Not Nora. I want everything associated with this wedding to be a joy for Carla. She likes you. And that’s rarer than you might think.’ He suddenly frowned. ‘How much will taking charge of this affect your traineeship? Will I be creating a problem for you there?’
He was giving her an out. If she wanted one. If...
She pulled in a breath. ‘The wedding is nine months away, right?’
He nodded.
Being Carla’s liaison wouldn’t be a full-time job. Very slowly she nodded too. ‘That leaves me plenty of time to continue with my fieldwork and studies.’
If it weren’t for Dylan she wouldn’t have a job right now or a chance to finish her traineeship. She owed him. Big-time. She made a resolution then and there to do all she could to make Carla’s wedding a spectacular success.
Her gaze rested on the chocolate bar he’d handed to her earlier. She suddenly realised how she could tacitly thank him right now. Without giving herself time to think, she ripped off the wrapper and bit into it.
‘I’m ravenous. And this is so good.’
As she’d known he would, he grinned in delight that his gift had given her pleasure. She closed her eyes to savour the soft milky creaminess, and when she opened them again she found his gaze fastened on her lips, the blue of his eyes deepening and darkening, and her stomach pitched.
She set the chocolate to the table and wiped damp palms down her trousers. ‘I... This is probably a stupid thing to raise...’
He folded his arms. ‘Out with it.’
‘I don’t believe you have any interest in me beyond that of any employer, but after what Gordon just accused me of...’
She couldn’t meet his eyes. The thing was, Gordon had recognised what she’d so desperately wanted to keep hidden—that she found Dylan attractive. Very attractive. He’d woken something inside her that she desperately wanted to put back to sleep.
‘I just want to make it clear that I’m not in the market for a relationship. Any kind of relationship—hot and heavy or fun and flirty.’
She read derision in his eyes. But before she could dissolve into a puddle of embarrassment at his feet she realised the derision was aimed at himself—not at her.
‘No relationships? Noted.’ He rolled his shoulders. ‘Mia, I have a tendency to flirt—it’s a result of the circles I move in—but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just supposed to be a bit of harmless fun. My clients like to feel important and, as they are important to me, I like to make them feel valued. I plan celebrations, parties, and it’s my job to make the entire process as enjoyable as possible. So charm and a sense of fun have become second nature to me. If I’ve given you the wrong impression...’
‘Oh, no, you haven’t!’
‘For what it’s worth, I’m not in the market for a relationship at the moment either.’
She glanced up.
Why not?
That’s no concern of yours.
Humour flitted through his eyes. ‘But what about friendship? Do you have anything against that?’
That made her smile. People like Dylan didn’t become friends with people like her. Once the wedding was over she’d never see him again.
‘I have nothing whatsoever against friendship.’ She’d sworn never again to steal or cheat. A little white lie, though, didn’t count. Did it...?
* * *
Thierry Geroux, Carla’s fiancé, was as dark and scowling as Carla and Dylan were golden and gregarious. Mia couldn’t help but wonder what on earth Carla saw in him.
She pushed that thought away. It was none of her business.
As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Thierry turned his scowl on her. She wanted to tell him not to bother—that his scowls didn’t frighten her...she’d been scowled at by professionals. She didn’t, of course. She just sent him one of the bland smiles she’d become so adept at.
‘Do you have any questions, Mr Geroux?’ He’d barely spoken two words in the last hour.
‘No.’
‘None?’ Dylan double-checked, a frown creasing his brow.
‘Stop bouncing,’ Thierry said in irritation to Carla, who clung to his arm, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
‘But, Thierry, it’s so exciting!’
Nevertheless she stopped bouncing.
Thierry turned to Dylan. ‘Carla is to have the wedding she wants. As you’re the events expert, I’m sure you have that under control.’
He ignored Mia completely. Which suited Mia just fine.
Dylan turned back to Mia. ‘There could be quite a gap between the end of the wedding ceremony and the start of the reception, while Carla and Thierry have photographs taken.’
Mia nodded. ‘It;s often the case. With it being late spring there’ll still be plenty of light left. I can organise a tour of the wildlife exhibits for those who are interested.’
‘Oh!’ Carla jumped up and down. ‘Could we do that now?’
‘Absolutely.’
The exhibits—a system of aviaries and enclosures—were sympathetically set into the natural landscape. A wooden walkway meandered through the arrangement at mid-tree height. This meant visitors could view many of the birds at eye level, practically commune with the rock wallabies sunning themselves on their craggy hillside, and look down on the wombats, echidnas and goannas in their pens.
At the heart of the wildlife walk—and the jewel in its crown—was the koala house. Set up like an enormous tree house, the wooden structure was covered on three sides to weatherproof it for visitors, with an arena opening out below full of native flora and an artfully designed pond.
The entire complex was enclosed in a huge aviary. A visitor could glance up into the trees to view the variety of colourful parrots, or along the rafters of the tree house to see the napping tawny frogmouths. Below were a myriad of walking birds, along with the occasional wallaby and echidna. But at eye-level were the koalas on their specially designed poles, where fresh eucalyptus leaves were placed daily. No wire or special glass separated man from beast—only a wooden railing and a ten-foot drop into the enclosure below.
‘I love this place,’ Carla breathed as they entered.
‘This is really something,’ Dylan murmured in Mia’s ear.
His breath fanned the hair at her temples and awareness skidded up her spine. ‘It’s a special place,’ she agreed, moving away—needing to put some distance between them.