last time she’d walked through the door.
“Georgina. I’m so glad you could make it.” David Roberts, the president of the Chamber, greeted her. “We’ll start in a few moments. Can I get you a glass of wine?”
“No, no thanks, I’ll wait until after my presentation.” She needed a clear head, even if she was only speaking to people she knew. Taking a quick look around the room, nodding to various people, she sat down on one of the chairs facing the front of the room. Tom was nowhere to be seen.
Thank goodness.
Settled in the chair, she listened to the opening address while she waited for her turn to speak, thankful it was something she had done a million times before. Her nerves were ragged enough after the afternoon water fight.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to welcome Georgina Martin. You all know the protea farm, so she is no stranger to you. She has agreed to tell us a little of her future plans for expanding the business and her latest enterprise, which I suspect we’ll all find very useful. Please welcome Georgina.” The polite applause echoed around her as she made her way to the front of the room.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Georgie began. “Thank you so much for your kind welcome. As David said, I have reopened the protea farm, and we are back in business. I’ll leave some business cards and brochures after the meeting. Please feel free to take one and don’t hesitate to call me if I can help with anything from individual blooms to wedding arrangements. I intend to expand the business, and I have plans for several new varieties of proteas...”
***
Tom moved quietly into the doorway, intent on staying out of Georgie’s line of vision. Barely able to restrain the whistle from escaping between his teeth, he gaped in amazement at the woman he had last seen dripping wet and covered in diesel oil. Diesel mechanic appeared to be the least of her talents. She was a quick-change artist as well.
“We have a team of four men, headed by Tom Morgan...”
At his name, the audience turned their eyes on him, and Tom’s attention was drawn away from his scrutiny of Georgie. Her gaze followed the movement of the crowd, and a faint blush crept up her neck as they locked eyes.
As she faltered for a moment, his stomach lurched. Quite why he wasn’t sure. If he’d been asked, he would have assured anyone it was because he was feeling for her, and he didn’t want to disturb her presentation, but he was pretty certain it was because the moment they had locked gazes and he had seen her purple eyes darken before the blush tinted her face, he had known she was remembering the feel of his lips. The only problem was he wasn’t only remembering the feel of her lips. He stretched and pulled himself upright away from the wall, thankful he stood at the side of the room and the attention of the audience was once more on Georgina.
The memory of her pressed tightly against his body was playing havoc with his self-control. He stifled the groan in the back of his throat. More than anything in the world he wanted to drag her away into some quiet, secluded space where he could explore the indefinable chemistry existing between them. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry and gritty, and concentrated on her presentation.
Georgie was a professional. She had the audience eating out of her hand, and if he ever needed PR work done, there was no one else he would call. Her presentation was focused and clear; there was no sign of hesitancy, just clear headedness and the knowledge she was delivering exactly the information she intended.
Tom recognized her steadfast gaze well enough now. When she concentrated, her eyes were a disturbing blend of indigo and violet, laced with deepest lavender. They reminded him of water lilies in the veldt or newly mined amethysts, all the more startling against the myriad of colors making up her hair, bleached by the sun into a hue as startling as lioness’s pelt. He
“Georgina. I’m so glad you could make it.” David Roberts, the president of the Chamber, greeted her. “We’ll start in a few moments. Can I get you a glass of wine?”
“No, no thanks, I’ll wait until after my presentation.” She needed a clear head, even if she was only speaking to people she knew. Taking a quick look around the room, nodding to various people, she sat down on one of the chairs facing the front of the room. Tom was nowhere to be seen.
Thank goodness.
Settled in the chair, she listened to the opening address while she waited for her turn to speak, thankful it was something she had done a million times before. Her nerves were ragged enough after the afternoon water fight.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to welcome Georgina Martin. You all know the protea farm, so she is no stranger to you. She has agreed to tell us a little of her future plans for expanding the business and her latest enterprise, which I suspect we’ll all find very useful. Please welcome Georgina.” The polite applause echoed around her as she made her way to the front of the room.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Georgie began. “Thank you so much for your kind welcome. As David said, I have reopened the protea farm, and we are back in business. I’ll leave some business cards and brochures after the meeting. Please feel free to take one and don’t hesitate to call me if I can help with anything from individual blooms to wedding arrangements. I intend to expand the business, and I have plans for several new varieties of proteas...”
***
Tom moved quietly into the doorway, intent on staying out of Georgie’s line of vision. Barely able to restrain the whistle from escaping between his teeth, he gaped in amazement at the woman he had last seen dripping wet and covered in diesel oil. Diesel mechanic appeared to be the least of her talents. She was a quick-change artist as well.
“We have a team of four men, headed by Tom Morgan...”
At his name, the audience turned their eyes on him, and Tom’s attention was drawn away from his scrutiny of Georgie. Her gaze followed the movement of the crowd, and a faint blush crept up her neck as they locked eyes.
As she faltered for a moment, his stomach lurched. Quite why he wasn’t sure. If he’d been asked, he would have assured anyone it was because he was feeling for her, and he didn’t want to disturb her presentation, but he was pretty certain it was because the moment they had locked gazes and he had seen her purple eyes darken before the blush tinted her face, he had known she was remembering the feel of his lips. The only problem was he wasn’t only remembering the feel of her lips. He stretched and pulled himself upright away from the wall, thankful he stood at the side of the room and the attention of the audience was once more on Georgina.
The memory of her pressed tightly against his body was playing havoc with his self-control. He stifled the groan in the back of his throat. More than anything in the world he wanted to drag her away into some quiet, secluded space where he could explore the indefinable chemistry existing between them. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry and gritty, and concentrated on her presentation.
Georgie was a professional. She had the audience eating out of her hand, and if he ever needed PR work done, there was no one else he would call. Her presentation was focused and clear; there was no sign of hesitancy, just clear headedness and the knowledge she was delivering exactly the information she intended.
Tom recognized her steadfast gaze well enough now. When she concentrated, her eyes were a disturbing blend of indigo and violet, laced with deepest lavender. They reminded him of water lilies in the veldt or newly mined amethysts, all the more startling against the myriad of colors making up her hair, bleached by the sun into a hue as startling as lioness’s pelt. He
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