the thought of what might come. She smiled as she conjured up the memory of his naked body lying against hers; the secret taste of him; the feel of his skin; it was easy, she’d practised several times over the last few days.
He bent his head, swiftly touched her forehead with his lips then stood back. That was all. Kat felt a stab of disappointment.
He said, “And now I must go and say my goodbyes. I really have stayed longer than intended. There’s a pile of work to catch up, but I’ll be in touch. And please don’t let other people’s judgement of me get in the way.”
“Of course not.”
“We don’t want anything sabotaging this. There’ll be a lot of hard work ahead if we decide to go ahead. You do realise don’t you? You are prepared for it?”
Kat folded her hands. She resented the fact that he was walking away while she felt like making love, but it was for the best. This was how it should be. Becoming entangled would be stupid. He’d done her a favour by not bedding her. She would soon be back in control. She must never again be vulnerable. She was sexually excited, but no one would know.
She lifted her chin “I know that it’s still early days. I know you could easily take another route, but there are things we need to clear up. Dad will probably have lawyers sorting legal jargon, but if you do go ahead, procedures will need establishing, things legal beavers won’t even think of. I shall want it including in the final substantiation, with signatures from both parties to verify it. Italian Concept is my baby, don’t ever forget it. No one takes the credit, except me.”
***
Kat waited for the delegation. She generally said that good clothes helped instil confidence. She wasn’t so sure now; she needed a pile of poise and there wasn’t a crumb to be found.
She fidgeted. Would it be good enough? Friends had helped put the presentation together, with a little cajoling from Fran. Someone’s boyfriend had brought along disco equipment and lasers, another had put the electric installation together, but would it be professional enough? Francine said it was, but it seemed hairy.
A light touch on her arm startled her. Rafael said softly, “Sorry to make you jump. The receptionist sent me up. Papá and the others will be along in a moment.”
“No problem. I’ll show you where we are.” She led him to the presentation room.
Rafael followed, watching her, eyes full expression. Kat saw it before he blanked it out. It would make no difference. She might fancy him like hell, but there was no way he was going to know. Not now. That flash of madness was gone.
Rafael spotted a video link. “All mod-cons, I see.” He picked up an agenda and nodded vaguely, apparently absorbed in the detail.
Her father arrived with Rafael’s papá and the other delegates and brought them to her. She took their hands. “Señor Saval, los señores, buenos días. I hope the flight hasn’t left you tired. I find long journeys exhausting. They make me grouchy, and I have to admit, I’d prefer you not to be.”
“Señorita, you drive away all thoughts of tiredness.”
“Thank you, Señor Saval. You’re too kind.”
A catering company had been hired for the afternoon, and a girl came and uncovered a table of canapés; then took orders for drinks.
Once the snacks were finished and the delegates comfortable settled, James Julian Bligh made his way to the podium at the corner of the room. The lamps dimmed, a spotlight centred on him, and he began a formal run-down of the business assets and liabilities. Using overheads, he explained the company. Projected sales were put onto clever graphics, profits were explained, and the corporate plan justified. Finally, it was time for Katrina to take the podium.
As she talked, fashion models displayed the garments across a centre-stage. They showed off the best of next season’s outfits. Kat explained manufacturing costs, a little about the methods, and about forward sales and the range of outlets that placed sales on them.
She paused dramatically and waited for silence, then said, “Los señores, I’d like to talk to you about our new line. We call the range, Italian Concept.”
The music surged. Francine strutted onto the floor in her inimitable way, her presence bringing immediate animation to the show. The dress embraced the cambers of her body exquisitely.
Some team began to whisper. Rafael watched intently, his expression difficult to read.