Boss's Christmas Proposal Page 8

  Her grandparents, as she had anticipated, were thoroughly delighted to hear from her. But also, as anticipated, her grandfather refused to discuss anything with her over the telephone. Particularly anything business related. If she wished to discuss something with him, then she would need to visit them in Nesutotaka. The small village north of Tokyo was where her father had been born, and as far as Kimi was concerned, it was pretty much stuck in the feudal era. “O-jii-san, I am at work. I cannot just take the rest of the day to go running up to Nesutotaka.”

  “Hai. When you do have time, granddaughter, then we will talk.”

  Kimi did not have time. “If I take the train up there this afternoon will you at least first confirm whether or not you even know the president of Kobayashi Media?”

  “You would negotiate with your grandfather?”

  Kimi could not help but laugh a little. “When I was a girl and visiting you, you used to bargain with me over watching your television.”

  “Ah. So you do remember the time when you lived here.”

  She rubbed her forehead, keeping her voice light. “How could I forget?”

  “I will meet your train,” Yukio said. “Your grandmother will be most pleased.” Without fanfare, he disconnected the call.

  Kimi hung up, too, with a sigh, then went to find something appropriate to wear to visit her extremely traditional grandparents. If she wanted a favor from her grandfather, she had better go in as prepared as she could possibly get.

  Unfortunately, Kimi’s wardrobe had not included a kimono since she had been a schoolgirl. If Greg had taken issue with the brevity of her skirts, her grandfather would have been apoplectic. She did not have anything that extended well below the knee, and he never had been particularly accepting of women wearing jeans.

  Painfully aware of the ticking time, she finally pulled out a pair of skinny gray slacks, paired them with flat-heeled black boots and a long, tailored white blouse. She called down to Grace’s office, but she was out, so Kimi had to settle for leaving a message with Nigel that she would be absent for the rest of the afternoon. Then she quickly shoved one of her textbooks in a satchel and headed out.

  With any luck at all, she would be back before too late an hour, and she could still get yesterday’s class assignments done and still manage a few hours of sleep before she had to assume the thoroughly unfamiliar role of banquet server.

  At first, Greg thought he was seeing things. That thoughts of Kimiko Taka had overtaken his waking hours as thoroughly as they had his meager sleeping ones. More than half of the servers silently working among the scarlet damask-draped tables were slender, dark-haired young women.

  He smiled absently in response to the chattering woman on his right—the wife of Kobayashi Media’s president who had, much to Grace’s relief, decided to honor them with his presence after all—and scanned the tables.

  There. There she was.

  Pouring water from a pitcher into a gray-haired guest’s glass with one hand, and clearing away an empty dinner plate with her other.

  “Your ballroom has made a beautiful presentation, buch,” the woman said. “Did you intend to replicate my husband’s favorite color, or is this a happy coincidence?” She smoothed her hand along the damask.

  Since arriving in Japan, Greg had become accustomed to being addressed simply as general manager rather than by his name, and he gave her a smile even though he was tracking Kimiko’s movements as she went back and forth among the four tables she was tending and the serving carts waiting against the wall. “At the Taka, no detail is too small for attention.”

  “I am certain my husband has already taken note of that.” The husband, Yoshi, was sitting on the dais, alongside the mayor and their other particularly honored guests. “He has mentioned to me that he is most pleased with the addition of the Taka Kyoto to our modest skyline.”

  “That is undeserving praise, indeed.” Early on, Yoshi had been a vocal opponent to the high-rise structure. “I hope we will have reason to see you and your husband here at the Taka again.”

  “I am certain of it. My husband most enjoys fine cuisine,” she returned, looking pleased. “We have heard rumors that your chefs have no compare.”

  “Mr. Sherman, Mrs. Ishida wishes to remind you of the time.” A soft-spoken young woman stopped next to him.

  Greg thanked her, and the girl moved off. He excused himself from those at his table and moved up to the podium at the center of the two long tables.

  “Konichiwa.” He spoke easily into the microphone. “Good afternoon. I am Greg Sherman, general manager, and it is my great pleasure and honor to welcome all of you to the Taka Kyoto.” With no effort, he continued his brief speech and acknowledgments of their honored guests, but he was still glad to surrender the podium to the mayor and return to his table.

  While the mayor launched into his remarks, Greg’s gaze homed in on Kimi again.

  At this distance, there was nothing to distinguish her from the other servers. She wore the same stiff white shirt tucked into narrow black pants; had the same wide black satin cummerbund circling her narrow waist. Even her hair, twisted into a low knot at the nape of her neck, was a mirror copy to the other female servers.

  Yet it was her.

  Greg knew it even before he caught her glance when she sneaked a quick look toward the head table where he sat during one of her trips back toward her tables from the cart. Despite the distance of three hundred people between them, he felt the impact.

  If the sudden hesitation in her otherwise smooth movements was any indication, so did she.

  Not until the final course had been served and there was a break in the speeches, however, could Greg break away from the table.

  He went straight through to the kitchen, moving easily through the beehive of activity there, and finally found her in the service corridor, perched on an overturned five-gallon bucket.

  “Ms. Taka. Would you mind telling me what you think you’re doing?” He stopped in front of her.

  Her gaze warily lifted to his, and she wriggled her stocking-covered toes. “Well, I think I am rubbing my feet.”

  He grimaced. “Clearly.”

  “Do not worry,” she said evenly. “I am finished in there until we start tearing down.”

  “What were you doing in there in the first place?”

  She pushed her foot back into her low-heeled shoe and stood. Without the usual high heels he was used to seeing her wear, she seemed even more petite. “Serving,” she said with exaggerated patience. “Was that not apparent?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, because in my infinitely spoiled manner, I decided to take some poor banquet server’s position just for the fun of it!”

  He let out a gusty sigh. “If I believed that—”

  “Then why do you ask?”

  “Because I don’t know what to think when it comes to you.”

  “Yes, you do. You think the worst.” Her voice was arid. “It’s what comes most naturally for you.”

  “Ms. Taka—”

  “I volunteered,” she admitted, clearly exasperated. “Grace said they needed help today, and I offered.”

  He eyed her, trying to find some measure of judgment where she was concerned. But the further along they went, the harder he was finding it. “You look tired,” he said abruptly.

  Her hackles visibly rose, proving that his measure had definitely missed the mark.

  She bowed her head slightly. “Sumimasen. Pardon me.” Sarcasm screamed from the polite words.

  “Maybe you should curtail the late-night ventures out,” he advised.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? I only raided the kitchen one time!”

  “I was talking about last night.”

  “What about last night?”

  “It was well after midnight before you returned to your room.”

  She pulled her head back, giving him a long look. “And the reason you know that?” Her hands went to her narrow hips. “What are
you doing? Keeping track of my hours? Would that be for your benefit, Mr. Sherman, or are you reporting back to my father? Surely you do not imagine he would be shocked, do you? I mean, considering my well-known wayward ways.”

  “Lose the sarcasm,” he suggested evenly. “No one is keeping track of you. And unless you want the entire hotel privy to your business, you might want to lower your voice.”

  “A good portion of the people working in this hotel already think they are privy to my business,” she countered tartly, “most notably you. So what difference does it make? I was judged and categorized before I walked in the door. And if I am not being monitored, how do you know just how late it was before I returned to my room? Or was that merely a lucky shot in the dark?”

  “Security, Ms. Taka,” he supplied. “As you should well know, the public areas are monitored.”

  “Obviously, Mr. Sherman. Which is my point.” She folded her arms and threw back her head, managing to look down her nose at him despite her significant lack of height. “Do you receive reports of all comings and goings of the employees, or am I just—” her lips curved in a dulcet smile “—particularly special to you?”

  Temper snapped from her dark eyes despite the sweet smile, and once again he wished that he’d kept his bloody mouth shut. “I was in the security office, and I saw you on camera myself. And the only thing you need worry about is keeping your, oh, call them extracurricular activities, from affecting your job performance.”

  “Please, let us not be coy, Mr. Sherman. You think I was out partying.”

  “Were you?”

  “Jealous?”

  “I don’t care who you’re sleeping with.” A larger lie hadn’t fallen from his lips in a long time. “Just remember that we do have a drug-free work environment here. Not even you will be allowed any infractions.”

  She looked incensed—and a little hurt. “My mother died of a drug overdose. I have never touched them.”

  He hadn’t known the cause of her mother’s death; only that it had occurred when Kimi was very young. “I’m sorry. Nevertheless, you’ll consider exercising some of that good judgment when it comes to…whatever else you’re doing in the middle of the night.”

  “Visiting my grandparents,” she snapped. “I spent more than half my day yesterday on the train to and from Nesutotaka, all so that you and the mayor could rub elbows with Yoshi Kobayashi this afternoon!”

  He grabbed her elbow, keeping her from stomping back into the kitchen in a huff. “Explain.”

  “I thought I just did.” She jerked out of his hold.

  “You are responsible for Kobayashi attending the luncheon?” Grace had neglected to share that little nugget when she’d told Greg the Kobayashis were back on the attendee list.

  “My grandfather is responsible,” Kimi corrected witheringly. “A phone call from him is all it took.”

  Greg knew Yukio Taka by reputation only. The man had run the TAKA Corporation until Kimi’s father, Mori, had taken over the media juggernaut when Kimi would have still been a child. The elderly man was retired, but Greg knew the man still had considerable sway in the country. Evidently enough sway to nudge Yoshi Kobayashi into a more favorable position where the hotel was concerned. “And this phone call involved you traveling until well after midnight.”

  “It was difficult to leave quickly. Now, if I had known that there was a curfew to be observed, I am sure my grandparents would have understood my need to catch an earlier train. You know,” she ran on unstoppably, “most people would have to be really creative to find some way to say a few train rides could adversely affect my job performance, but if anyone can, I bet it will be you. Then again, you think I am just playing at the job, anyway, so what does it matter if you think my job performance is inadequate?”

  “I didn’t say your work was inadequate. I was warning you—oh, for—” He bit off an oath. She knew she was doing a perfectly decent job. And she undoubtedly knew that he knew it.

  Which, more than ever, made him look like an overbearing, unreasonable boss.

  Something he’d never considered himself to be.

  Before her.

  The problem was that despite the thoroughly regulation banquet uniform she wore, he still couldn’t see her as his employee.

  Because she was the owner’s daughter?

  Or because with each passing hour, he found himself in danger of forgetting that she was the owner’s daughter?

  “There is nothing wrong with your—”

  She leaned forward a little, her lips pursing softly. “—performance,” she supplied. As quickly as her eyes had filled with snapping temper, they now were sparkling with triumphant humor. “It is not such a hard word to say, Mr. Sherman. You just put your lips together and—” She breathed out a puffing “puh.”

  Despite everything, a bark of laughter escaped. “You really are something else, Kimi.”

  Her lips parted, surprise blanking everything else from her expressive face. “You…you laughed.”

  “Your amazement is condemning. Did you think I was incapable?”

  “Hai.” She blinked, as if shaking herself awake. “Yes. I am sorry. I…maybe I did. Which was very rude of me.” She glanced around, looking oddly shy. “I appreciate the vote of confidence—however warily given. But I…I should see if the banquet captain needs me yet. Excuse me.”

  She pushed back through the swinging door to the kitchen before Greg could stop her.

  She’d had no reason why she should have explained her activities the night before to him. He wasn’t her keeper, and she hadn’t been on duty. It definitely wasn’t her problem that he was the one having trouble sleeping—which was why he’d been roaming around the hotel in the first place.

  But explain she had, and he felt even more like a bastard.

  He shoved his hand through his hair and rejoined the banquet guests, and even though he kept an eye out for Kimi, she didn’t appear inside the ballroom again.

  Chapter Six

  Thanks to Kobayashi Media, by the next morning it was a widely publicized fact that the Taka Kyoto was a wildly successful addition to Kyoto’s overall excellence. The mayor’s luncheon hosted there was an unqualified success.

  Greg, however, didn’t feel all that successful. Not when he knew he’d found at least one employee whom he didn’t seem able to treat with his usual impartiality. The truth of that gnawed at him through a morning of meetings and interviews held in the training room, and it was still gnawing at him when he finally broke away long enough to head down to his office.

  Both service elevators were humming, so he took the stairs only to encounter a roadblock in the form of the group coming up from the opposite direction, with Grace in the lead. They were all holding coats and scarves.

  “Heating go out?” He wasn’t entirely joking, since they’d had similar problems that were supposed to have been resolved by now.

  “No.” She tossed her jacket over her other arm. “We’re off on an unexpected field trip. I found out this morning that the children’s orchestra you talked me into scheduling for the gala is performing this afternoon at a school in the area. We’re going for a preview.”

  “So you can pull in another group if you figure they’re not up to Taka standards?”

  “Maybe.” She grinned. “My boss expects me to cover all contingencies.”

  “As well he should.” Greg looked past her to the rest of the group; all of the half dozen were faces he easily recognized. But it was the dark-haired woman in the salmon-colored suit bringing up the rear who predictably dragged at his attention. Kimi was a part of Grace’s group, clearly. But she was also very much apart from Grace’s group. Even he could see that. He also could see that she was looking everywhere but at him.

  What else did he deserve?

  “I’ll go with you,” he said abruptly.

  To her credit, Grace managed not to gape at him in surprise. “We’ll be gone through lunch and most of the afternoon,” she warned. “Don’t
you have meetings scheduled this afternoon?”

  He did. “They’ll keep.”

  Her gaze was full of questions, but they’d worked together long enough that he knew she’d keep them to herself. At least for a while. “Great. Then you can put our lunch on your expense report, since my boss is always telling me I’m going over on mine.” With a smile, she sidled past him up the steps, and the rest followed her.

  Greg fell into line behind Kimi. The others had already reached the lobby-level door but several steps above him, she leaned her head back over her shoulder. “There is no need for you to play watchdog, if that is your intention,” she said under her breath.

  “I have more than the usual vested interest. I’m the one who suggested the children’s group for the gala. Personally, I think they’re pretty remarkable, and they can use the exposure they’ll get that night to get more bookings. More bookings means more funds. More funds mean more instruments and more students.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth closed. Pink rode her cheeks. “And now you undoubtedly believe I am more self-involved than ever.”

  His thoughts where she was concerned were best kept unshared. He passed her on the steps and reached the lobby door, holding it open for her.

  Without looking at him, she hurried past, leaving that faint, intoxicating scent of hers in her wake.

  He warned himself to get a grip and went to make arrangements for his absence that afternoon.

  Grace had already scheduled one of the hotel limos to transport her group. His presence didn’t change that arrangement, though it did make the confines inside the vehicle when he joined them a little more snugly fitted.

  Kimi sat facing him from the seat opposite him.

  She made a point of looking out the side window, her fingers trailing up and down the cashmere scarf she’d wound around her neck. A long lock of silky hair had worked free of her chignon and clung to her ivory cheek.

  He ignored the itch that made him long to slide his fingers through that lock.

  Impartial, he reminded himself silently, for all the good that it did.