Singapore Fling with the Millionaire Page 4

  Except...

  How screwed up would it be to start working towards a fairer, more equitable world, but achieving it at the expense of someone else’s happiness? He didn’t want to achieve his end goal by making Christy miserable or having her regretting signing with MA.

  MA was offering her a deal of a lifetime. Most designers would leap at the chance he was offering her. Christy, though, needed to come to that conclusion herself, in her own time. He ran his hand over his face and counselled patience.

  He glanced across to find her gazing intently at a nearby spike of pink orchid flowers, and then back at the waterfall. She pulled her phone from her pocket, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she made notes.

  When she realised he was watching, she sent him an apologetic shrug before snapping a couple of pictures.

  ‘Do you get ideas all the time?’ He didn’t have a creative bone in his body, but the creative mind fascinated him.

  ‘I used to.’

  A silent but hung on the air.

  She shook herself and sent him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘It goes in fits and starts. But it definitely started firing the moment I stepped off the plane.’

  ‘Is it fun?’ He had no idea what prompted him to ask.

  ‘It’s wonderful.’ Her eyes glowed and it was as if all the colours of the rainbow suddenly sparked from her. ‘This garden and that waterfall are amazing. It might not be a Merlion or a grove of Supertrees, but it doesn’t feel like a consolation prize, that’s for sure.’

  She wanted to see the Merlion and the Supertrees while she was here?

  Of course she did.

  ‘Definitely inspirational,’ she added.

  He glanced around, then frowned. She was right. It was lovely here.

  She clapped her hands to her knees. ‘Right, well, evidently I’m now going to stay. So we’ll visit your Orchard Road store tomorrow, and—’

  ‘No.’

  She blinked.

  ‘You need a day of sightseeing first.’

  ‘I can sightsee afterwards.’

  ‘I insist.’

  Her chin came up. Not in challenge, more...as if she was assessing him. ‘I wish I could get a better handle on you, Jamie Cooper-Ford.’

  He blinked at that Jamie. Nobody called him Jamie, and yet she’d made it sound like the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘You’re so...unflappable. It makes you hard to read.’

  He’d been raised by two distant parents. He suspected it made him distant too. And cold. ‘What are you trying to see? What do you want to know?’

  ‘What your intent is, your motivation? On the surface this seems very kind, but maybe you’re playing a deeper game to win me over.’

  ‘The truth is I don’t want you accusing me of railroading you into a decision you come to regret. If you join the team at MA I want your wholehearted commitment—the brand deserves your wholehearted commitment. If you became disaffected with MA and were publicly critical of the company, the publicity would be damaging.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘That’s true.’

  ‘I want the opportunity to prove to you that I’m serious when I say I want to rewrite MA’s mission statement. For that to happen, I need you to be willing to listen to me.’

  She bit her lip at his words. ‘I don’t blame you for your scepticism,’ he inserted as smoothly as he could. ‘Given MA’s track record, your mistrust is warranted.’

  She peered into his eyes with an intense focus he did his best to return. Eventually her lips curved upwards. ‘So... In pursuit of getting me suitably softened up to listen to you, I get to enjoy the sights tomorrow?’

  He made a spur-of-the-moment decision, going with a gut instinct. ‘No, you’re going to take a whole week off.’

  ‘A week?’

  Her shock couldn’t hide her delight at the prospect of a week’s worth of sightseeing and downtime and he congratulated himself on this unorthodox piece of strategy. In a week’s time she’d be only too happy to listen to him.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  She blinked.

  ‘I’ll still have Robert collect us at ten in the morning. And he’ll take us wherever you want to go.’

  ‘Us? You’re planning on coming too?’

  The muscles in his shoulders bunched. Why did she find that so surprising? ‘I have an investment to protect.’

  ‘Are you going to ditch the suit?’

  ‘Absolutely. Suits are hardly relaxing holiday attire.’ He mentally went through the contents of his suitcase. He might need to order a few things in.

  Speculation grew rife in her eyes. He glanced at the way perfect white teeth bit into the plump pink flesh of her bottom lip and had to swallow. ‘What?’ The word emerged from his throat choked and raspy.

  ‘You want me to have a nice time this week.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Does that mean we can do Singapore my way?’

  If that was what was going to make her happy... ‘That’s exactly what that means.’ He frowned. ‘What does doing Singapore your way mean?’

  ‘Who knows? I’ll probably make it up as I go along.’

  He fought the urge to roll his eyes. These creative types were all the same. What he wanted to know was what was wrong with an agenda and a checklist?

  ‘But the one thing I do know is that it doesn’t involve a chauffeur.’

  Right. He’d ditch the suit and the driver.

  * * *

  James paced the foyer of the apartment building the next morning as he waited for Christy to arrive, checking the list he’d made on the note-taking app on his phone—a list of all the sights that he thought Christy would like to see. He knew she’d said that she wanted to do Singapore her way, but he wanted to be prepared with a back-up plan if her inspiration flagged.

  ‘You know, if you have work to do, Jamie, I’ll understand. You don’t need to feel obliged to babysit me.’

  He gave a start to find Christy standing at his elbow. She wore a pair of navy capris and a white T-shirt, which should make her look crisp and cool. Except the shirt sported a huge pink glitter heart on the front and a line of red hearts hemmed the capris. His mind blanked.

  She eased back to let out a low whistle. ‘I’m loving this new version of you—we’ll call it “Jamie in holiday mode”, shall we? What?’ she added when he remained silent. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

  ‘I...no. I’m just not used to anyone calling me Jamie.’

  She grimaced. ‘Sorry, it’s an Aussie thing. As a nation we can’t seem to resist shortening someone’s name or riffing on it in some way. As if a name isn’t perfectly acceptable as is. I’m sorry, I’ll call you James if that’s what you prefer.’

  ‘Jamie is fine.’ He liked her Jamie. Not that he intended admitting as much.

  ‘If it’s any consolation the impulse is a friendly one—meant to make you feel like one of the gang.’

  One of the gang? The notion was so foreign that he was momentarily speechless.

  ‘But while I approve wholeheartedly of your cargo shorts and boat shoes...’

  The smile she sent him warmed him to the soles of his feet, and made him glad he’d spent some time considering what to wear today to put her at her ease. She was a designer—a visual person. What she saw impacted her on a visceral level.

  She nodded at his phone. ‘I’m also aware that you’re a busy man who has a lot of demands on his time.’

  He turned his phone towards her. ‘I’m not checking my work emails.’

  She glanced at the screen and pursed her lips. ‘You’re a list maker.’

  For no reason at all, his mouth went dry. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘No.’

  But she drew the word out a beat too long. When she didn’t add anyth
ing else he released a slow breath. He had a feeling “list making” wasn’t high on her inventory of attractive traits. Not that he wanted her to find him personally attractive. But as selling MA to her was his current goal, he sure as heck wanted her to find him professionally attractive.

  He pushed his phone into his pocket. ‘So, Christy-who-likes-to-change-people’s-names, what would you like to do today?’

  Ten minutes later he found himself seated on top of a double-decker open-air bus on one of the ubiquitous hop-on, hop-off tours that operated within the city.

  ‘So...this is how you orient yourself?’

  She adjusted the brim of her cotton sunhat. It was mint green and embroidered with big white daisies. It was a ludicrous hat. But whenever he looked at it, he wanted to smile. It didn’t go with her outfit, but her breezy lack of concern informed him that didn’t perturb her at all. Though he supposed one could make a case that it went perfectly well with her white tennis shoes.

  ‘Orient myself? No! This is just for fun. I can use a map to orient myself. I spent quite some time last night studying my map of Singapore and doing exactly that.’

  She stared at him as if expecting him to say something. ‘I’ve no intention of casting aspersions at your map-reading abilities if that’s what you’re waiting for,’ he said.

  That made her laugh. ‘Being up here in the open air—above the street—in this amazing city feels like being on holiday.’

  It did?

  ‘Close your eyes.’ She closed her eyes so he didn’t bother closing his. ‘Feel the breeze in your face...and the warmth of the sun on your arms...and smell of the scents that are in the air.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘It smells so different here than it does in Sydney—blossoms and spices and things I just don’t recognise.’

  He stared at her rapt expression and an ache started up in his chest.

  ‘It all feels so wonderfully exotic and foreign. So far removed from ordinary life.’ Her eyes sprang open. ‘I bet you didn’t even close your eyes.’

  He kept his mouth shut.

  ‘It’s also interesting to know what a tour company thinks a tourist should see in their city. So, Mr List Maker, we’re going to do a complete circuit on this bus, and only then am I going to decide where to get off and what to explore further.’

  She looked so utterly at ease with her plan that he couldn’t help smiling. She was right. The breeze ruffling his hair did feel good. He hadn’t lied to her when he’d said he’d wanted to get away too. The office had become a battleground. One he wished he could walk away from.

  Except he couldn’t. He’d promised his father he’d take care of business. And that was exactly what he would do. He had no intention of making the same mistakes his father had, or regretting his life the way his father had. He clenched his jaw.

  ‘I expect you do something very different for your holidays.’

  He didn’t take holidays.

  ‘You probably loll on some gorgeous beach somewhere—California, Florida...the Maldives.’

  Her voice dripped with longing and he found himself shaking his head. ‘You have a very idealised view of my life. I don’t have time for holidays. And I sure as heck don’t have time for the beach.’

  She froze. Very slowly she turned from the view of Singapore’s Eye that was currently being pointed out to them by their tour guide, to stare at him. ‘You’re CEO of one of the most luxurious fashion brands in the world, a brand whose reputation is built on beach and resort wear, and yet you don’t have time for the beach?’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but the reality and the fantasy rarely meet, I’m afraid.’

  He became aware then that her entire body had started to shake. His collar tightened in foreboding.

  Outrage flared from her every pore. ‘Why on earth would I hand my gorgeous beach umbrellas and accessories—my Beach Monday business—to someone like you; someone who doesn’t have time for the beach?’

  He swore silently. He’d made a major misstep. It was testament to how exhausted he was and what a toll the last few months had taken on him. He should never have allowed himself to relax in her company.

  ‘My umbrellas are the work of my heart.’

  She slapped a hand to her chest. He followed the action and swallowed, reefing his gaze back up to eye level.

  ‘But to someone like you they’re just dollars and cents.’

  Rescue the situation! ‘But they mean more than dollars and cents to MA’s customers. That’s what I’m paid to focus on.’

  He wished he could rewind this entire conversation. How the hell had he got into such a mess? And how in the blazes was he now going to get back out of it?

  CHAPTER THREE

  JAMIE PULLED HIS FACE into what Christy suspected was a deliberately thoughtful aspect. ‘Now that I think about it, though... You’re absolutely right.’ He nodded for good measure. ‘I should make time for the beach. I should be getting in touch with my...beachy side.’

  He was so clearly not to be believed she almost laughed. Except...

  Every instinct she had told her to grab Beach Monday with both hands and run for the hills. Or the beach where he’d never have the time to find her!

  He dragged a hand down his face with a groan. ‘God, must do better,’ he muttered, as if realising how patently transparent his words had been.

  He lifted his head. ‘You know that whatever my attitude to the beach or holidays, it has no bearing whatsoever on my ability to sell your extraordinary umbrellas or the fact that I can introduce them to a huge number of new customers.’

  ‘Logically, yes,’ she managed, because she’d been quiet for too long and, whatever else happened here, he was giving her Singapore.

  ‘But?’

  His eyes had gone sharp and shrewd. His ‘I don’t have time for the beach’ confession had been a slip. And, she suspected, out of character. She couldn’t help wondering what had made him slip.

  She shook the thought away. ‘The thing is, if you don’t have time for the beach or holidays, what on earth can you know of your customers’ desires and needs for such things? How can you empathise with them and, therefore, shape in any meaningful way your company’s mission statement—its very promise? If you don’t have time for the beach then maybe you don’t have time for things like the environment and climate change and the exploitation of factory workers.’

  Pulling her hat from her head, she scratched both hands back through her hair, which was always a mistake as it was too curly, too wild, to simply slip one’s fingers through. It always tangled. She shook her fingers free with a wince.

  Stop it, she berated herself. She was making a proverbial mountain out of nothing more than a molehill. ‘Obviously you’re only a fashion brand, not a cure for cancer or any of the world’s other ills,’ she said, pulling in a breath. ‘And it’s crazy to expect...more.’

  He blinked.

  ‘And your customers are largely the mega-rich—you have the luxury end of the market rather than that of the common man—so we’re probably not talking about people in desperate need of some R & R anyway.’

  He was just one man. There’d be a whole machine behind him that took care of marketing and PR and all the other bits and pieces. Whether he loved the beach or loathed it was neither here nor there. He was just the guy who closed the deals.

  ‘Christy—’

  ‘No, I know you’re right. I’m being silly.’ It would be wise not to trust Jamie—they were in business negotiations, for heaven’s sake, regardless of whatever he said about this week being a holiday—but that didn’t make him a villain either. He wasn’t the bogeyman.

  His job was to sign her. Her job was to come to a decision. End of story. She should be more objective. But it was impossible for her to be objective about Beach Monday. It meant too much to her. She’d known she’d find the cold practicality of these
negotiations confronting. She needed to toughen up.

  She bet he didn’t have any trouble being tough. Except... There’d been bleakness in the depths of his eyes when he’d mentioned not having time for the beach, and she’d bet he hadn’t even been aware of it. A sidelong glance confirmed to her that he had no idea—had absolutely no clue as to what he was missing in not having time for the beach. It twisted something in her stomach, twisted it up tight and hard. She recognised that bleakness because it existed in her too. It was why she’d started Beach Monday—to help ease that bleakness for people like her. It’d just never occurred to her that someone as rich as Jamie could experience it too.

  The distinctive shape of the Marina Bay Sands Hotel with its three columns and boat-shaped top riding the sky came into view and it made her smile. ‘Every city should have a boat in the sky, don’t you think?’

  He turned to stare. ‘And a CEO who embraces his company’s promise,’ he agreed slowly.

  ‘You don’t have to embrace the beach, Jamie. But I can’t help thinking everyone needs a special place that helps them unwind and makes them feel happy.’

  He nodded, but she could tell he was only being polite. She fought a frown, fought the way her stomach had started to sink. She wanted him to understand what he was missing. ‘The thing is, Jamie, Molto Arketa is like the pinnacle of my beach dream.’

  Those blue eyes turned back to her and she sensed she had his full attention.

  ‘It’s like...’ She searched for the right words. ‘If I won the lottery, MA would be the first place I’d shop before heading somewhere exotic like the French Riviera or Tahiti or...’

  ‘The Maldives,’ he finished for her.

  She didn’t understand the sadness that momentarily lurked behind his words. She wondered if he even knew it was there.

  ‘I’ve been to the French Riviera, the Costa del Sol, the Greek islands—but I’ve not been to Tahiti or the Maldives.’ He smiled. ‘So if there’s anything you want to know...’