Page 78 of Smooth Sailing
Paloma’s hand withdrew, but the warmth of her touch lingered. He straightened in his chair, shifting into professional mode. Beneath the table, he pressed his knee against hers—a silent promise that their moment wasn’t over, merely postponed.
“Your daughter,” he replied. “I had designed a few indoor gardens for businesses, but she presented me with the challenge of working in a home and with a designer. I was too intrigued to pass up the opportunity.”
“Ah yes, seeing possibilities,” her father said, a slight edge beneath his pleasant tone. “The Sterling project certainly proves your instincts were right this time.”
“Clifton,” his wife chastised quietly.
Wow, thatwas shitty. Max opened his mouth to defend Paloma, but she rested a hand on his thigh and shook her head once before turning to her dad. “I’ve learned from my mistakes. I hope one day you’ll notice.”
“I have noticed. How could I not? The Sterlings have been showing off and talking about their home to anyone who’ll listen. They’ve been recommending your services to all of their friends and colleagues.”
Max glanced at Paloma, noting the spark of excitement in her eyes. Her father seemed harsh, hard to please, so this level of praise from him was probably rare and significant.
“That’s . . . that’s wonderful to hear,” she said, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of delight. “We put a lot of work into that project. I was in charge of the home and guest house. Max designed their conservatory and the landscaping for their deck and the surrounding gardens. The way he integrated those spaces with my interior changes elevated and brought the entire project together.”
Her words settled over him like a warm blanket, easing the knot of anxiety he hadn’t realized was there. Her acknowledgment of their partnership meant more to him than he cared to admit, especially here with her family.
Clifton raised his eyebrows slightly, his gaze shifting between Paloma and Max. He seemed to be considering the new information, his expression thoughtful. Then he nodded and said, “I see. Well, as I was saying, the hospitality sector could be a great opportunity for you. Your ability to create cohesive spaces inside and out would be highly valued. And I have the perfect project for you.”
Her brows pulled together. “You do? For me?”
“Yes, you. Two boutique hotels in Louisiana.” Clifton continued, reaching for a slice of garlic bread. “One in New Orleans and the other in Baton Rouge. A hotel flag bought them and wants them redesigned. They want to see how these flagship projects go before doing this to more.”
The roomgrew impossibly hot, thick with Clifton’s offer. The formerly appetizing aroma of pizza now turned Max’s stomach. His water glass was slick with condensation under his fingers, giving him something to focus on besides the sudden roaring in his ears. Paloma’s chair creaked as she shifted away from him.
“Why now?” she asked.
“Because I think it’ll be a good fit for you. I’ve been watching you. You’re finally focusing on your career. And you’ve proven yourself with the Sterling project.”
His stomach dropped, and the warm feeling from moments ago began to cool. Not because of the project itself—he’d support her career in a heartbeat—but because he knew Paloma. When things got complicated or personal, work became her refuge. And this opportunity was coming right when they needed to figure out what they meant to each other.
Clifton took a sip of his wine. “Would you be interested?”
She looked from her father to Max. He couldn’t read her expression, but he recognized the slight tension in her shoulders—the same tension she’d get right before stepping back, keeping things professional.
“Why are you looking at Max?” her father asked. “Does he have a say in your business?”
His face burned. Yesterday, wrapped in the success of completing the Sterling house and the intimacy of working together, everything had seemed possible. But sitting here now, an outsider at her family table, he suspected he’d been seeing what he wanted to see rather than what was really there.
Chapter Thirty-Five
November 25th, 9:30 p.m.
Paloma’s gaze drifted to the mishmash dinner of pizza and roast, the steam rising from the dishes. Her stomach churned, a stark contrast to the usually comforting aroma of her mother’s cooking and her favorite pizzeria. The job offer and her father’s suspicion that there might be more than work between her and Max hung in the air, mixing with the garlic and tomato sauce.
The Louisiana project could be the stepping stone she needed to establish herself as a versatile, in-demand professional. A businesswoman who seamlessly transitioned from residential to commercial spaces, from cozy homes to bustling hotels—she could master both. It was also an opportunity to show the world—and herself—that she wasn’t the same naïve woman who almost lost her business and heart.
But what about her and Max? Then again, this could work in her favor with him as well.
“What do you think?” her father asked.
Always the pressure with him. He demanded and wanted everything immediately. That would be another issue if she took the job. She’d constantly be drawing boundaries.
“I don’t know, Dad. I need more details,” she replied. “There are a couple of small projects I’ve committed to. I’d need to make sure they don’t conflict.”
“I’m sure you could juggle it,” her father said dismissively.
“And it sounds like an amazing opportunity,” her mother added.
