Page 74 of True Abandon

Or me, for that matter.

chapter SIXTEEN

“Your guests will enjoy cocktails in the Kalanina Room as well as the adjoining terrace.” I’m giving Eric Duvane, the guest in the Maui suite, a tour of the event he is here to kickoff for his company. “We’ll have high-top tables set for fifty—”

“A hundred,” he interrupts.

“Yes, but we only provide tables for half of the party to encourage mingling.”

His smile is debonaire. “Fewer places to hide—I like it. Though, I wouldn’t say this crowd is the getting-to-know-each-other type. They’re more like competitors. Primarily city dwellers we’re luring here with a free trip to Hawaii.”

I look down at the leather binder in my hands with all of Eric and his company, Black Dog Entertainment’s, plans. “May I make a suggestion?” Looking up, I ask, “Why not move the event onto the great lawn? If you’re bringing these people to Hawaii, why not show them the landscape?”

“I didn’t think it was an option. Our concerts get very loud.”

I tap my pen on the binder. “Keep the concert inside, but move the cocktail hour outside before the event. We can string lights between the palm trees and burn tiki torches. The event will be at sundown, and there’s nothing like a Hawaiian sunset. Maybe add some hula dancers and have the music you’re promoting playing on a ukulele. It’ll subliminally get your guests into the vibe of the evening.”

He nods his head appreciatively. “That’s a great idea. You’re very good at this.”

I hug the binder and curl a loose hair behind my ear. “I’m just going off the notes. You really should be talking to the event coordinator. She can walk you through all of this.”

“I know, but I asked you to. Based on your ideas, I see I was right in my decision.” He looks back at me with those piercing, blue eyes, and I feel flushed.

I take a step toward the veranda and face the water. My dress feels tight in the afternoon heat. I grip my rib cage where the fabric clings to my skin.

“You have a producer’s brain.” His voice hums in my ear as he takes a spot next to me.

I point to the lawn area. “That’s where I suggest hosting the party. Show your guests a good time. If it rains, we can always move the event inside.”

“I take it you didn’t enjoy working as a producer?” His question forces me to face him.

I blink at him a few times before answering. My hesitation makes me laugh. This is just the thing that would send me into a tizzy. It’s a simple question so I might as well give a simple answer.

“I loved working in production. I spent three years at Asher-Marks Entertainment as a Production Assistant. Alexander Asher was a fantastic teacher. Well, he didn’t actually teach me. I learned from watching. The fact he started a music company does not surprise me. He’s a man of many talents.”

“He’s also intimidating as all hell.” Eric makes a mock face of fear, and this time I let out a real laugh.

“To say the least! The first time I met him, I was so nervous, I spilled a cup of black coffee all over my desk.” I fumble around in the air, mimicking how I acted that day as I tried to clean up the mess I’d made. “Excuse me, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. It’s my first day, Sir. I was a disaster!”

Eric’s deep, boisterous laugh follows mine. “Did you really call him sir? He’s like a minute older than you.”

“He’s easily a decade older than I am, which to a twenty-two-year-old fresh out of college, is a hundred years. Plus, he has this way about him—like you said, he’s intimidating. Or, he was. I figured out how to communicate with him by the time I left.”

He holds his hands up in prayer. “Please, give me your secret. I’m still sweating bullets every time my phone rings.”

I give a wide, closed mouth smile. “Realize he’s just human. He’s made mistakes. Just like everyone else, and I’m sure he’s had his heart broken, too.”

He raises his brow, leans into me and says quietly, “So, you know his secrets.”

I lean in a little more. “I know everyone’s secrets.”

Good God, it sounds like I’m flirting. I just met this guy yesterday and I’m having coquettish banter, not scrutinizing his every word in an attempt to find the lie, the trick, the conniving meaning behind every syllable.

Eric leans his hip into the stone railing and rests his elbow along the top. “How did you go from working for a production company in Manhattan to being a concierge in Hawaii?”

Isn’t that the million-dollar question? “Let’s just say I was looking for a change.”

“Have dinner with me.” It’s not a question. And his non-question has me clutching onto the leather binder and taking a step back. He doesn’t seem to notice. “I’d like to continue to pick your brain for ideas on the event.”