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“Do you?”
The abruptness of her question damn near takes my breath away. I blink rapidly, waiting for her to laugh, but that unreadable smile remains in place. “Of course not. I was drunk, I was frustrated.”
“That would explain the empty tables on your patio.”
There's nothing inherently antagonistic about the way she says it—her voice is light, her tone frank and factual. She's only telling me what she observed for herself. Here I am, ready to argue what I know is true. That won’t get me anywhere.
“Yes,” I force myself to agree. “That would explain it. Before the video broke, we were so busy we had to turn people away on weekends.”
“Hence the expansion plans.”
“Exactly.”
“Right now, it doesn't look like there's any need for you to expand. You might have solved your red tape problem without meaning to.”
Again, my hackles rise, and now there's a telltale tightness in my chest. Down, boy. I can't afford to let pride get in the way. It was pride that got me into this mess in the first place. “That's where you come in,” I remind her with a smile I don't completely feel. “If you're half as good as I've heard, you should be able to make this go away.”
“I'm flattered,” she murmurs, chuckling. “And please, don't misunderstand me. There's no judgment here. If it weren’t for situations like this where people forget themselves and let their mouths run away from them, I wouldn't have a job.”
So this is my fault? I practically have to bite my tongue off to contain that question, but I would very much like the answer. The way she makes it sound, I'm the one at fault. Like there was any way I could have known somebody was recording my every word. If anything, they're the ones to blame for infringing on my privacy.
“You mentioned your board earlier,” she continues. “They're giving you a hard time?”
“You have no idea.”
“How long have you been CEO of this place?”
“Longer than any of them believed I would manage,” I admit, chuckling in spite of myself. “It's been less than a year.”
“And do you make a habit of socializing here at the club?”
“I wouldn't say it's a habit,” I point out. “There's something to be said for showing my face around here, though. Talking with the guests, letting the members know how valuable they are.”
Her lips twist in a frown to go along with the drawing together of her brows. “It doesn't seem like you made them feel very appreciated, though.”
This is her job. This is what she does. I need her. It would be a very, very bad idea to tell her exactly what I think about her opinions and observations. I might as well shoot myself directly in the foot if I let my temper get the better of me now.
“No, I didn't,” I admit. Finally, I spread my arms in a shrug, palms up in a gesture of helpless surrender that doesn’t come easily to me. “I've laid myself bare for you, Ms. Anderson. I'm willing to accept the fact that my pride got in the way and left me in this mess. All I need to know now is, how do we make it better?”
“We?” A soft smile punctuates the question. “Remember, Mr. Cargill, we aren't officially working together.”
Yet. I wait for her to add the word yet, but she doesn't.
Something very close to dread begins to build in my gut, growing like a balloon with every silent moment that passes between us. Finally, I have to ask, “And what will it take for us to make it official? Money is no object, Ms. Anderson. If I haven't offered enough, if you think this will take more work than usual, by all means. Name your price, and consider it paid. This is my future we're talking about. My professional reputation, my reputation here in town. I have to live around these people, don't forget. I need to make it right.”
“What ever happened to issuing an apology and promising to do better? Speaking frankly, it isn't like you run some big, international corporation. I'm sure Somerset Harbor feels like the entire world when you live here, but really, you're a big fish in a very small pond. You might have to eat crow for a little while, but I have no doubt this will all fade away in time.”
She leans forward, her eyes gleaming with intense interest that verges on the unnerving. “Why is it so important that we fix this right away? Why are you willing to spend so much money, in other words?”
I force a tight laugh. “I've never met anyone who would question a fee like the one I'm offering.”
“I need to know the full story if there's any hope of helping you, which means I need to understand the stakes. What is truly at stake for you? What is your end goal?”
At first, my tongue feels too thick to speak. This is the one thing I didn't want to have to say out loud—and the fact that she seems to stare straight through me with those brilliant hazel eyes of hers isn't helping. She makes me want to hide, an impulse I can't make heads or tails off.
“Fine,” I relent. “You want to rake me over the coals?” Her brows draw together, but she says nothing. “I need to make this go away before my father hears about it.”
Her lips twitch. “See? Now we're getting down to the truth. You're afraid he'll take the job away?”
