Читать книгу The Complete Boardroom Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 27

FIVE

Toni sat back in one of the boardroom chairs and tried to take in what Scott had just told her.

Scott Elstrom didn’t want to be here one little bit. In fact he had made it clear to his family that he had no intention of ever coming back to run the business.

No wonder he was grumpy!

She knew what it was like to be dragged out of your normal life by a situation out of your control.

When her parents died in the train crash she had been left utterly alone at eighteen with a ten-year-old sister to bring up.

Scott was lucky. He still had his parents and a sister who cared about him. He could pull this off. If he wanted to.

‘But you’re back to stay now. Aren’t you?’ she asked cautiously.

‘I promised my father that I would give him six months.’ Scott’s voice was flat and cold but at least he had stopped scowling at her.

Toni pushed off from the chair and flipped both hands into the air with a big grin on her face.

‘Then everything has changed. Your face should be right up here on this wall next to your uncle. Six weeks or six months—it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference to me. You’re the latest CEO of Elstrom Mapping and it’s my job to paint your portrait.’

Then she rubbed her hands together. ‘Any chance of a coffee before we get started on the sketches? It’s a bit nippy in here.’

Scott didn’t move an inch. ‘You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?’

‘Nope—’ she grinned ‘—I have every intention of sticking around and taking your photograph and generally making a nuisance of myself until I have all the material I need to work my magic. It’s so important to get to know the client as much as possible. So, you see, there is no way that you’re going to get rid of me.’

He stepped forward, totally invading her space until she could see every hair of his grey and blond beard and practically feel his breath on her cheeks.

His skin was red and chapped and his hair needed cutting but somehow Scott Elstrom rocked that master-of-all-he-surveyed look better than any stylist she knew could have pulled off.

Any lesser mortal would have backed off. Not her.

‘I could pick you up one-handed and carry you outside. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Absolutely.’ She smiled, reached out with her right hand and squeezed his rock-hard biceps, sighing in appreciation, and then her gaze locked on to his eyes. ‘But then I would have to set up my paints on the pavement outside your front door and call on all of my media friends to interview me. Just think of the TV crews and reporters who would be hassling you day and night. Wouldn’t that be a nice treat?’

‘Stalker,’ he replied in a low, deep voice which seemed to echo around inside her head and come out of her ears.

‘Grumpy.’ She blinked then instantly refocused on those startling blue eyes which seemed locked onto hers.

Time expanded. All she could hear was the sound of their breathing and the chiming of a very old clock somewhere in the building.

Oh. And the burning of the air between them as if it was ignited by the fierce electricity that sparked in the few inches that separated them.

She had heard that ozone was addictive and maybe they were right because the air she was breathing now was so thick with pheromones and testosterone she could have sliced it and served it with tea.

It was almost a relief when Scott stepped back. But, to her astonishment, he grabbed her hand with his long strong fingers and started marching towards the door.

Was this it? Was he calling her bluff and throwing her out on to the street?

‘Come with me,’ he growled. ‘I want you to see for yourself why there is no time to spend hours of my life sitting for a portrait.’

* * *

It was an office of sorts. But it was totally unlike anywhere she had ever seen.

Every flat or even vaguely flat surface was covered with stacks of paper. All sizes—plain, decorated, scraps of what looked like paper napkins covered in handwriting, envelopes of every description.

Tables, chairs and bookcases were all crammed full of sheets of yellowing paper with the overspill stacked in vague piles on a faded threadbare carpet.

There was a rounded shape in front of the window which might be a sofa because she could see curved wooden feet at either end but, instead of cushions, there were scrolls tied with string and ribbon, about twenty cardboard tubes standing on end and box after box of padded envelopes with exotic bright stamps on the outside.

Floor-to-ceiling bookcases with glass doors lined each wall and Toni could just see through the thick layers of dust that they were crammed to bursting with double-stacked papers and books of all sizes and bindings.

At some point a stack of thin booklets had been knocked off the desk and lay scattered on the floor where they could easily be stepped on.

Scott released her hand with a flick and Toni gingerly stepped forward and picked up one of the booklets.

It was a catalogue promoting Elstrom Rare Documents Restoration Services, dated 1958. The original cover must have been a deep blood-red but the colour had faded until it was a faint spotty pink. The letters were blurred and indistinct, the paper inside yellow and fragile.

Replacing the booklet on top of another like it on the desk, Toni looked around at the chaos and swallowed down a lump of cold concern.

‘Have you been burgled?’

‘Burgled? No.’ He laughed. ‘This is my dad’s private office. Sorry. Was my dad’s office. Mine now. And it has been like this ever since I can remember.’

‘You’re kidding me. Seriously? He ran the company from this room?’

‘He knows where everything is. Every invoice, every receipt, and every letter he has ever written or received is in this room. You’re looking at forty years of his accumulated paperwork plus everything he inherited from my uncle, who had this office before he did.’

‘Wow. It’s really quite remarkable. Do you mind if I take some photographs?’

‘Of what?’

‘This room. I had no idea that places like this exist any more.’

‘They don’t—’ he coughed ‘—not if they want to run as a business. Somewhere in that heap of unopened mail are bills which need to be paid so that the telephones and lights still work. Somewhere. I’ve been here two hours and I’ve hardly touched the surface.’

Toni whistled out loud as she took several pictures with her digital camera.

‘Good luck with that little challenge.’

Then she snuggled deeper inside her padded coat and looked from side to side. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to start,’ she whispered. ‘And this office is freezing; any chance you could turn the heating on—’ she cupped her hands and rubbed her palms together ‘—or is that bad for the documents?’

‘Leather and paper like the humidity. It keeps them soft. As for the heating? The temperature seems fine to me, but I haven’t had time to check the boiler and the electrics. A building this old has its quirks.’

Toni peeked around Scott and nodded towards the desk.

‘How can you not feel cold? I’m standing here shivering.’

He frowned. ‘Your hand did feel cool.’

‘It’s a cold day. By London standards, anyway. Is there a tea room? Kettle? Cups? Anything?’

‘Yes. But here’s a suggestion.’

Scott grabbed a light padded jacket from the back of a chair stacked with unopened packages. ‘Before I set out on a survey I always check that I have the equipment and essential supplies that I need. Food and drink are up there on the top five. As it happens, there are a few things about the city that I do miss when I’m working in the field.’

‘Soap and hot water?’

‘No. Although those things can be few and far between. But right now I was thinking about real coffee made from ground coffee beans. And something laden with fat and sugar to help me get through this jet lag.’

‘Well, I know the local terrain fairly well. Willing to risk having a local guide?’

‘Let’s get out of here.’

* * *

‘Two-shot Americano,’ they both said at the same time as the barista took their order and then jumped back at the sound of each other’s voice.

‘Seriously?’ He turned and peered at her, arms folded. ‘I would have thought that some elegant green tea would be a more suitable hot beverage for a portrait painter. All elegance and refinement and artistic expression.’

Toni snorted out loud. ‘Ah, you’re back to the stereotypes again. I think it’s my solemn duty to flip that illusion and pronto.’

She pressed her right forefinger to her chest. ‘A two shot Americano is perfect for a part-time portrait painter who has a day job as a commercial photographer. You get the instant hit from the caffeine but it’s not quite enough to bring on a bad case of the jitters. And, believe me, there are some days I’m run so ragged that one coffee has to keep me going for a long time.’

‘Aha. So you don’t paint portraits full-time. Interesting. Well, that explains a few things.’

‘Really. Such as? Please carry on. I would hate for you to keep all of that valuable insight to yourself. What gave the game away?’

To her astonishment, Scott reached across the table and picked up her hand and looked at it, fascinated. Then turned it over and brought it up to his lips.

That simple movement was bad enough, but Toni wasn’t prepared for the rush of heat she got from the touch of his full lips on the sensitive skin at the centre of her palm which had nothing to do with the fact that she had chosen a table right next to the radiator.

It was so unexpected that she took a second before reflex action kicked in and she tried to slide her hand back. No luck. It was locked solidly in his grip of iron.

‘What are you doing?’ she muttered between locked teeth. ‘Stop that right now. People. Are. Looking. At us.’

She smiled over to a group of girls who were giggling at her on another table while she tried to tug her hand away without making it look too obvious.

‘Answering your question. So stop struggling. You see, I like hands too. And yours tell me so much about you. No paint under the fingernails or ink or charcoal ground into your palms.’

He pressed his lips to her knuckles and then lowered her hand to the table. ‘Your skin smells of shower gel. Not linseed oil or acrylics and it is certainly not used to outside work. A studio photographer. Now, that makes sense.’

‘How very observant. I like to think I am creating portraits of a different sort. But—’ she took a sip of the scalding-hot fragrant coffee ‘—you have a point. My first sketches can be taken from a photograph rather than a live sitting straight onto the canvas. That’s the way I work. I think about how I want the sitter to look in the final piece. Not always easy.’

He coughed just once and picked up his drink when one of the waitresses nudged him accidentally and the hot coffee splashed on to his bandaged hand, which was resting on the table.

‘I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’

‘No harm done,’ Scott reassured the young girl.

Toni waited until she was gone before looking up at Scott over the top of her cup. ‘Do you mind if I ask—how did you hurt yourself?’

‘For a girl, of course! Why else would a man throw himself on to frozen sea ice and let his fingers go anywhere near ice water?’

‘Wow. Sea ice. That’s astonishing. Scary. Wild. And a bit mad’.

‘It’s my life. And Dallas does have the most amazing blue eyes.’

‘Well, she must have to make you go to those sorts of lengths. Is she okay now? Your Dallas?’

‘My Dallas is having the time of her life being pampered and well fed by a whole survey team of boys. Probably not missing me one bit.’

‘Not missing you? After what you did for her! That’s a bit ungrateful.’

‘Probably. Doesn’t stop me from missing her. She’s been a good friend.’

‘Well, in that case the lady is forgiven. Good friends are hard to find. And I hope you finish your business here soon so that you can get back to her charms.’

‘I’ll drink to that. To Dallas. See you in six months, girl.’

Six months. Interesting.

Toni lifted her cup of steaming coffee. ‘Six months—is that how long you have to turn the business around?’

‘Less. That’s how long I have committed to. Different thing.’

‘Any ideas about what you’re going to do?’ Toni asked over the top of her coffee. ‘I mean, apart from finding a new office to work from. Because, I have to tell you, I did not see any sign of modern technology just now and I think you might need a few more things besides paper and pens.’

‘Maybe. I’m a scientist. And don’t look at me like that. It might be hard to believe. But it’s true. Before I make a decision I like to know the facts.’

Scott put down his coffee and nodded back towards the Elstrom building, just down the street. When he spoke it sounded to Toni as though he was simply speaking his thoughts out loud rather than having a conversation. ‘Top of the list is to create some operating income. If things are as bad as Freya thinks they are, it could be a shock at the bank tomorrow. Right now, I have no clue about what has happened to our archive of valuable documents—instruments, maps, sea charts going back almost two hundred years. There has to be something left.’

He shrugged and took a long drink before going on. ‘I need to make an inventory of the entire stock. Once I know what we have left, I can start work. Sell some items to specialist dealers. Loan others to museums for a fee. That should give me enough time to put together a long-term plan. But I need to work fast. Clear the office. Make space to work. Then I need to create a brilliant sales catalogue in weeks, not months, and...’

Scott’s voice faded away and his eyes narrowed and focused on Toni so intently that she glanced around the room before putting her coffee down.

‘What? What have I done now?’

‘It’s not what you have done, Miss Baldoni. It’s what you are going to do.’

He stretched both arms flat on the small table and leant forwards from the waist until he was close enough for her to touch him. ‘I need someone who can photograph my stock and create a sales catalogue. Someone with experience as a studio photographer would be absolutely perfect. What do you say?’

Toni gulped down some coffee so fast that she almost choked.

‘What do I say?’ she replied, blinking. ‘I say that Freya paid me to paint your portrait, not work as your commercial photographer.’

Scott slid backwards but his attention was still completely focused on her.

‘You wanted to stick around and make character studies. I’m giving you the chance to do that. For the next seven days you can photograph anything you like, including me. On one condition. You help me out with the business side at the same time. Do we have a deal?’

He stretched out his hand across the table and tilted his head slightly to one side.

Toni took a breath, her heart pounding and her mind racing.

Seven days? He was offering her seven days to take the photographs and make the sketches she needed to paint him. And something else. Something even more important. The chance to get to know him a little more.

It was the one thing that had been drummed into her from the very start of her training with her father. To be a real painter, she had to capture the essence of the sitter in paint on the canvas. That was the extra-special quality of a Baldoni portrait. Without that? She might as well just take his photograph and be done with it.

Scott coughed low in his throat and she looked up into eyes which she knew she could paint in a heartbeat. But the rest of him? Somehow, she got the feeling that she had only just touched the surface of the real Scott Elstrom.

So why was she hesitating?

A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth and her heart rate sped up just enough to answer that question perfectly.

She had known Scott less than a day and she was already far more attracted to him than she had any right to be.

The last time she had worked alone with an attractive man on a project had been the few weeks she’d spent on assignment with Peter. She had fallen and fallen fast and look how well that had turned out. He had lied to her, betrayed her and broken her heart.

Could she trust herself to be more careful with Scott?

But what choice did she have? She needed this work.

Toni looked into his face, then at his hand, and then back to his face again before sighing out loud and placing her hand in his. It was like being crushed in a vice.

‘Fingers! I need the fingers!’

Shaking the blood back into her crushed fingers, she exhaled slowly. ‘Well, Mr Scott Elstrom. What have I just let myself in for?’

His reply was an evil chuckle that would have been perfect for a horror movie. ‘You saw my dad’s office, Antonia. Wait until you see the archive. The Elstrom family take hoarding very seriously.’

A shudder ran across Toni’s shoulders. More hoarding! Oh, no. She was an expert on the topic. She had a whole house of her own clutter to clear.

‘Come on, girl. Let’s make this happen. And on the way I want to hear how you plan to make those dusty old maps of mine look a million dollars. Shall we?’

And with one tiny nod he stepped back and gestured towards the exit. She peered at it for a fraction of a second before rolling her eyes and waving towards the counter. ‘Could we have the same again, please? And make that four jam doughnuts this time. I think I’m going to need them.’