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“We’ve already started opening doors,” she told them. “We left a message with Clyde Westerbourne to see how he can help.”
Cal whistled. “Westerbourne. Great man. He helped us with Gideon’s foundation.”
“And I’m sure he’ll want to help with this too.” Then she added smoothly, “We’d welcome any additional ideas or comments you have. This is a group project. We need your input.”
Will sat back in his chair, holding a pen between his fingertips. “I believe I speak for all of us. You’ve done the work.” He flashed his gaze around the room, and the Mavericks let him be their mouthpiece. “And we like all of it. If we have something to add, we’ll let you know, but you’ve got an amazing start here. Obviously, there’ll be massive fundraising for this. But you two have such a mind meld, we don’t want to get in your way.”
“Cal and I will look at how the foundation can help,” Gideon said. “But you know you can call on us if you need anything.”
She wanted to clap. She wanted to cry. They’d done it. The Mavericks were in. And finally, she could look at Dane again.
She felt that mind meld, as if they didn’t need words.
And it told her he was extremely proud of her.
Chapter Fifteen
Dane had planned on three days to go through the entire project with the Mavericks, to discuss it, take suggestions, make changes, think it over, but the group had decided in less than two hours. It wasn’t even much past eleven a.m. The whole thing was kind of crazy.
But then, it wasn’t crazy at all. Cammie had done an exceptional job, polishing their presentation on the overnight flight from the Caribbean. He’d gotten some good shut-eye, but he wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, though it had certainly been long enough for her to be sharp and ready for whatever the Mavericks threw at her.
That was why she hadn’t spoken to him much on the flight—because she’d been working, perfecting.
It couldn’t have had anything to do with that kiss.
“Great presentation,” Will said, rising to shake Cammie’s hand, then Dane’s.
Fernsby’s trolley was empty. Ah yes, that was probably why the Mavericks were letting them go: The cake was gone.
Back at the car in the parking garage, Dane had left the air on—the car had a special climate control—since Rex was sleeping inside.
Fernsby stored his foldable tea trolley in the trunk and turned, regarding them with his staid British façade. “I’ve flown halfway around the globe with you today, sir.” Did he even recognize what a huge exaggeration that was? But Dane didn’t stop him. “So please don’t ask me to drive another three hours down to Pebble Beach. I need my rest.” He sniffed loudly as if Dane should have known this. “I’ll take the dog to the flat with me while you two play tourist for the rest of the day.”
Fernsby didn’t fool him. He adored the dog, and taking Rex was no hardship. Both he and Cammie had seen Fernsby sneaking dog treats to Rex, though the butler claimed it was Dane who gave out way too many.
Cammie jumped in. “We can’t play tourist. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Fernsby eyed her with a look that could have flayed the flesh from a lesser human’s bones. His voice when he answered held its usual stern tone, though slightly more tender, perhaps because of Cammie’s loss. “My dear Camille,” he said softly. “You two have worked like dogs,” he said with an exaggerated drawl, “for the past three days. You must take some recuperation time.”
When Cammie opened her mouth, he wagged a finger. “You are still grieving, my dear.” Was that compassion in Fernsby’s eyes? “Make no mistake about that. And now I am ordering you to go out and enjoy the most beautiful city on earth.”
“I thought London was the most beautiful city on earth,” Cammie said, not exactly arguing with him.
Fernsby looked at her as if she were incredibly misguided. “Home is where the heart is,” he said simply. With that, he crammed his tall frame into the car, slammed the door, turned on the engine, and expertly backed out of the parking spot at high speed.
Thank God the two of them weren’t still standing by the trunk. In a flash, Fernsby and the car were a distant memory.
“He’s so bossy,” she said, hands on her hips.
Dane merely smiled. By some miracle, he had exactly what he wanted—free time with Cammie. Taking her elbow, he guided her to the carpark stairs. “Let’s get a coffee and talk about what we’d like to do today. After all, Fernsby gave us an order.”
She harrumphed like an old lady. And Dane smiled deep down inside.
* * *
They found a little café just outside the garage entrance, and the scent of freshly ground coffee almost made her swoon.
