Chapter 3

What the hell was she doing here?

Staring at herself in the mirror, Bernadette tried desperately not to fiddle with her hair. She had it professionally straightened once a month, because the feathery curls had been the reason for her hated nickname. The nickname that was the first thing that had popped into Tyson's mind and slipped from his lips upon seeing her for the first time in nearly two decades...

She wasn't sure whether or not to be offended, but she decided on not, because at least he hadn't forgotten her. As that was what she'd always imagined.

When he'd left for North Carolina, and she'd never heard from him again, that had been her major fear. Her parents had always told her that it was because he was a guy, and that boys that age thought nothing of dismissing important people from their lives because they thought with their dicks.

That hadn't been much comfort to her.

Not when she'd missed him as much as she had.

Was it a twist of fate that the company Emily was hooking her up with for a vacation, he worked for? Some kind of divine intervention? Or was that too lofty a concept for long-lost friends?

As it was, they'd spent half the morning together, shooting the shit with an ease that had always been between them, and that time hadn't dispelled. Though they'd gotten down to business relatively quickly, talk had soon turned personal. Tyson had been curious about the time they'd spent apart, wanting to know the ins and outs of Grafix, as well as her life in general.

For herself, she'd asked after his scholarship. Back in the day, he'd been focused on gaining a scholarship to an Ivy League school on football. Though she'd looked him up on the Internet every now and then, when she hadn't found much and as time passed with her hurt at his absence increasing, she'd ceased torturing herself.

Because it had been torture.

Maybe it sounded dramatic, the ramblings of her adolescent self… But she'd loved Tyson. That pure kind of love that came freely and futilely, without control, with total abandon. An adolescent love.

Of course, it had always been hopeless. He'd been a jock, and she'd been a total geek.

Nobody had understood why he'd hung around with her. Bernadette hadn't understood it herself. They'd come up through middle school together, her, Emily, and Tyson. She and Em  were on par. Both nerds, both unashamed of it. Especially back then. At the time, wearing Next Gen T-shirts with Picard logos on them hadn't been geek chic, just geek. But they'd worn them proudly as rebellion.

Tyson, on the other hand, had been one of the popular kids. For all the time she'd known him, he'd never not been popular. Friends with everyone, it had seemed. Or at least on speaking terms with everyone. But the friendship between her and him had always been special. Especially to her.

He'd always had time for her. And time, at that age, was the most precious thing to give to somebody. Especially when that gift was from someone who was popular, cool, and friends with anyone who was anyone.

She bit her lip as memories flooded her. They'd been doing that off and on all day, filling her with regrets and recriminations.

Bernadette tried to shake them off by focusing on her appearance in the mirror. She stood there, checking herself out, futilely wishing she'd worn something a little more casual that morning.

When he'd suggested dinner, neither of them had wanted to part long enough to go back to their respective homes and change. Instead, they'd gone straight to the restaurant. Tyson's choice, because he knew that area of the city better than she.

Hell, who was she kidding? The area she knew was around her office building, but he didn't know that she spent more time inside the office than anywhere else.

It was only when she'd been sharing the past decade and a half with him this afternoon, she realised how little she had in her days that wasn't work-related.

Tyson hadn't judged her. Not even by a flicker of an eye had he shown he thought she was pathetic for being a workaholic. But he didn't need to think that for her to feel it.

Funny how those feelings had only appeared when he was back in her world, wasn't it?

Bernadette freshened up by splashing her face with cold water, then briskly rubbing it with a hand towel. When her skin glowed pink from the rough treatment with the paper towel, she blew out a breath, and reached for her lip gloss. Applying it, she checked out the minimal makeup she had on, and was grateful the foundation had lasted. Her suit as well. Beautifully tailored and utterly designer, it had worn well throughout the day. Though she'd been seated at the conference table, discussing anything but business, it didn't bear the signs from such a lengthy stay.

Before she could question why it was so important how she looked, she tugged her jacket down, shoved her shoulders back and strode out of the swanky bathroom, that came complete with marble egg-shaped sinks and cascading faucets, and headed into the restaurant itself.

The dining room was elegant. Terracotta walls, rich teak and oak wood tables, that had been scrubbed clean once upon a time. They gleamed nonetheless with vitality. Matching chairs stood at their sides, and navy blue napkins, folded extravagantly, decorated the tables, alongside glassware that twinkled and sparkled in the overhead lights. And that was nothing to the cutlery.

Above, the ceiling was like a sea of stars. Painted black, there were thousands of glistening lights. It was simple, and rustic, but elegant nonetheless.

On the north wall there were huge ethnic cartwheels, and in the middle of the room, was a kind of cart, which she could imagine a farmer using back in the day to transport his goods to market. Inside it, there was a bed of hay, and hundreds of glass jars filled with preserves. It could have been a bizarre decorational choice, but it worked.

The vibrant colours were natural, and earthy. Fitting for this hip restaurant in downtown Seattle. This was no franchise or a cookie-cutter decor. The place was warm and engaging. An interesting choice for Tyson to have made, really. She was well aware he was here on business, but he hadn't mentioned it once since they'd arrived.

In fact, he'd suggested they go out to dinner because of that reason - though he'd started talking about the packages his company offered, he'd been the one to change topic pretty much immediately. When he'd asked her out to dinner, he'd stated that he had an expense account in need of abusing, and he could think of no finer way than to do it with Bernadette.

They were in a corner table, amid the shadows that enabled them to overlook the rest of the diners in the busy restaurant. The click clack of her heels had him lifting his head away from the menu and fixing it firmly on her.

She swallowed at being at the centre of his attention. As a kid, she'd spent hours in fantasyland, praying for this moment to come. She'd never expected it to happen when she was thirty-two.

Because, though Bernadette was usually unaware of herself as a woman in her sexual prime, she felt it at that moment. There was no way that that look could be considered anything other than sexually charged.

The notion had a thrill spiralling through her.

Provocative of her? She wasn't sure. But when she reached the table, she unfastened the single button of her jacket, and slipped out of it, draping it on the back of her chair. Tyson half stood, politely, as she sank into her seat. But she was well aware his gaze was anything other than gentlemanly. She felt the branding heat of his eyes on her breasts, the ripe curves visible now the skimpy camisole was all that was covering her top half.

When she wore this suit, she never removed her jacket. The silky bit of lace was more decoration than anything else, a chance to soften her utilitarian outfit. It certainly wasn't made or meant to entice. But now, she used that to her advantage.

Bernadette found she was revelling in being at the pinnacle of this man's focus.

Their thoughts were attuned, because he let out a low whistle, then declared, "I can't believe how much you've changed."

She snorted. "Well, the Star Trek shirts weren't good for business."

He chuckled. "I always thought you looked pretty cute in them if I am being honest."

Did he realise what he did to her when he said stuff like that?

Since the company had gone public, Bernadette thought of herself as impossible to ruffle. But he had the inner teenager in her twirling around like a ballerina on speed.

God, she really hoped he didn't know what he did to her. That would just be so mortifying.

"You were probably the only one who did," she admitted ruefully. "They didn't exactly suit me."

He tapped his nose. "Beauty is in the eye of the holder, Bernadette. I thought you'd have learned that by now."

Her grimace said she knew he was right, was willing to concede it, but wasn't exactly happy about it.

A waiter appeared with a greasy smile. She barely refrained from rolling her eyes when his gaze was practically glued to her tits. Talk about no class.

From Tyson's scowl, he was aware of the way the waiter was looking at her and didn't appreciate it one bit. She had to admit, that made her preen. Under the wing of his protection, she'd always felt safe.

While it was bizarre to be feeling the same way all these years later, she had to admit, she liked it.

"May I take your order?"

She'd barely had a chance to look at the menu, but she ate what she always ate. "Caesar salad, please. Light on the dressing, but an extra order of grilled chicken."

It wasn't that she was boring, it was that she was usually on a diet. Bad habits had lurched forward in his presence. The minute she escaped to the conference room, leaving Tyson with his boss, nerves had urged her to dive deep into the basket full of carbs in the breakfast spread.

He cast her a glance, made his own order of a T-bone steak with a baked potato and all the trimmings.

This time, refraining was even harder... She stifled a groan. That was one of her favourite meals.

Tyson's lips twitched, but he said nothing, merely ordered a decent bottle of wine to go with their meals.

Reaching for her ice water, she took a sip and as she was drinking, Tyson asked, once the waiter had disappeared, "Is that all you're going to eat?"

She frowned. "You saw the breakfast I had. Wasn't exactly lightweight, was it?"

He snorted. "Then what was with the moan of pain when I ordered?" he demanded, his brows high on his forehead.

She huffed. "A girl has her secrets."

He shook his head. "You always were dieting. That hasn't changed over the years."

Scowling at him, she retorted, "A gentleman wouldn't mention that a lady needs to diet."

"When did I say that? I never understood why you were always watching your weight." His voice grew husky as he continued, "You always did have the perfect figure."

Her eyes widened. Perfect?

Bernadette's mother was one of those women who constantly harped on about their daughter's weight. Correlating a lack of boyfriends with the number on the scales. She didn't seem to understand that the lack of boyfriends was down to a lack of time. Bernadette barely had enough moments in the day to get her business on track, never mind handle the disturbances that usually came hand-in-hand with a man.

When Bernadette turned twenty-five, she'd vowed to stop listening to her mother. Inwardly declaring that life was too short to put up with that kind of shit. She gained 50 pounds in the process.

Now back on track after her failed rebellion, she knew a part of the reason her staff found it difficult to work with her was because she was fucking miserable dieting all the time. They'd known her back in the glory days which had been a free-for-all she'd dived headfirst into.

People wondered why thin women were bitchy… Bernadette had the answer. It was that they were starving, and starving didn't make for a mood enhancer.

After years of her mother and her boyfriends telling her she needed to lose weight, it came as a great surprise to hear the word 'perfect' slip from Tyson's mouth.

Gulping, she whispered, "Women get taken more seriously in business if they are attractive. I'm not saying it's fair, because it sure as shit isn't, but if I don't watch my weight, things get dicey in the boardroom." That was no word of a lie.

Sucky, but the truth. Then, the truth usually did bite.

Tyson grimaced, and she could see that he understood that point of view because he didn't immediately argue and tell her differently. Instead, he murmured, "You can share some of my steak if you want."

Her lips twitched, charmed by his little act of generosity. "I'd like that, thank you."

He rubbed his chin, sheepishly smiling at her as he asked, "I really don't want to talk about business, not when we have so much to talk about, but Gill will go ape shit if he realises we spent the whole day together and not once did we mention Hedonist Central."

She could sense he was waiting for her to be offended; he'd almost frozen in expectation of her blasting him over it. But if anyone understood business, it was Bernadette.

"Of course, feel free."

Tyson blew out a relieved breath, and once again it charmed her. His caution around her made her feel… Well, she wasn't sure what she felt he made her feel. She just knew that she liked it.

"Just until dinner arrives, I promise."

She smiled. "Honestly, it's okay."

He grimaced, then launched into a spiel that was enlightening - though he'd always been charming, she'd never have imagined him in sales. "So, are you interested in packages for your staff? The bonuses, or teambuilding exercises?"

Bernadette pondered that, not having thought about it. "The truth is, I'm actually here regarding a personal vacation. My PA is strong-arming me into it. You remember Emily?"

Tyson grinned. "You two are still together?"

She scowled at him. "We're best friends. Not lesbians." Somehow, it was important she state that fact. As usual, high school was a breeding ground of gossip. Usually mean, and not based in truth.

A nasty rumour had gone around that she and Emily were gay and were screwing each other. A notion not helped by the fact Emily was actually a lesbian.

It didn't bother her now, so much. But back then, it had embarrassed her, because she'd been so hooked on Tyson, and certain that was one of the reasons, as well as her geekiness, why he'd never seen her as anything other than the girl next door.

He held up his hands. "Of course not. I never believed that shit back at school anyway. I'm just surprised you're still friends, and more than that, working together."

She just grunted, pushing that aside. "Anyway, things have been insane since Grafix went public and I've been practically living in the office trying to get things done." The breath she blew out was redolent with her fatigue. Something she had not been capable of admitting until that moment.

Why that was, she didn't particularly want to ask.

"That must be tough," he commiserated. "My days are very long, don't get me wrong. But I don't sleep at the office, and I do have some personal time even if, like today, that does get eaten into from time to time… Do you have a bedroom in your office building?"

Bernadette shook her head. "No. I wish. We moved into the new building after going public, but I didn't take some things into account, and you know that phrase… Repent at leisure? That's me at the moment."

"So, you really do need a vacation." It was definitely a statement, not a question.

She grimaced, and couldn't find it in herself to argue, which considering she and Em had had a bitch of a row only yesterday, a row that Emily had won because she threatened to resign if Bernadette didn't take a break, was definitely unusual behaviour.

"I hate it when Emily's right, but in this instance, she is," Bernadette said grumpily.

Tyson chuckled. "Something else that hasn't changed - your pathological need to always be right."

She rolled her eyes. "Hey, who's the client here?"

His chuckle deepened. "Would you like me to kiss your feet in gratitude?" He teased.

That wasn't her kink, but the idea of him before her like that, certainly made her cheeks flush, and made her grateful the fact the restaurant was dimly lit.

Deciding it was wise to change the subject, before she made a bigger fool of herself than she already had, she cleared her throat and remarked, "I have to admit, my employees do deserve better bonuses for putting up with me."

He eyed her rueful smile, but said simply, "We have reams of statistics about how incentivising the workplace increases productivity, but you don't need to hear that bullshit from me. It's the truth. I know, because we get bonuses, and last year, I missed out on a huge one after pouring a couple of weeks of all-nighters just to win." Tyson shrugged. "Earning a salary should be enough, but if you want the extra mile out of your staff, then you have to give them a reason to."

"Emily never said why she picked Hedonist Central, and I'm certain if she knew I was talking about business while I was here she wouldn't be happy."

"This past year we've gained quite a reputation for luxurious getaways."

"I'm sure you have, but why she didn't just pick something online… I don't know."

"Because of the packages we provide."

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, sure, you can go online and book a hotel room and at the same time, reserve a flight, and reserve a hire car. But that's where the package ends… Hedonist Central doesn't work like that," he explained, not too earnestly to be suspicious, or for her to feel like it was a sales pitch. "We've developed entire packages for the individual and businesses too, so that your time is so much more than a getaway."

"Okay, I can get behind that. What's your most popular package?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. Of course, certain ones are very popular, but it depends on the demographic."

Bernadette conceded that because she realised her question had been stupid. "Okay, so, taking into consideration everything you knew about me as teenager, what do you think I would enjoy?"

He didn't scoff at that, merely narrowed his eyes as though analysing the woman sitting here before him now, and the girl he'd once hung around with. Tyson rubbed his chin, and slowly, murmured, "You always dreamed of going to Aspen as a kid. I doubt that has changed. We have a package that includes a first-class flight, a stay in a luxury, private, log cabin. Access to a local five-star hotel's spa, with four treatments optioned in the deal. The log cabin has a hot tub, but you can also use the hotel's indoor pool.” He paused. "The package also includes a ski pass, and classes if that's required. Then, there is an evening out at a Michelin-starred restaurant, a chauffeur-driven limo to the nearby shopping facilities, which is also available throughout the stay… How's that sound?"

She bit her lip in surprise at how well he'd read her, how well he'd remembered her. Guilty, she admitted, "It's a long time since I thought about Aspen."

His eyes widened. "You haven't been still? Wow! All work and no play, Bernadette…"

"I know, I know. When I graduated school, I was so determined to create my own business, and to make it work, that my office was at home. My days were nothing but work, but my bed was close," she conceded ruefully. "Then, the whole thing with Tor happened, and on the back of that, I arranged for the company to go public… Things have never let up since then. I've not had time for vacation."

Tyson studied her for a second, and she wasn't sure what he saw, what he was even looking for, but he remarked, "What are you doing this week?"