Amalfi Coast (That Wedding Girl Book 2) (9 page)

BOOK: Amalfi Coast (That Wedding Girl Book 2)
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He stops himself and I wonder if he is speaking from personal experience, something that made him feel this way.

Clearing my throat, I want to change topic.
Desperately
.

“Well I’m excited for whatever you’ve got in store for me!”

I raise my glass and he notices my sudden change of expression before he brings his forward to clink with mine. I’m going to bite my tongue. I don’t want to argue about this now.

“To us,” he drinks, keeping his gaze on me. All night, it’s been lingering looks when he thinks I’m not looking. And I catch him
every time
. My sneaky stares are lot better timed than his, he definitely hasn’t caught me.

“So are you hiring a PA as well? I bet you’ll have some fun with the interview process, plenty of hot girls willing to work for you,” I tease, and he returns with an amused grin.

“Believe it or not, I think I’m self-sufficient enough to not require the services of an assistant. Maybe a virtual assistant, or someone part time down the track.”

Yes, I can believe
he
thinks he’s self-sufficient enough. “If you can’t find the right person, I can always lend you Gabe. But not too long, I’ll want him back!”

“I take it he enjoyed planning the wedding too?”

I nod, giving him a heck-yes look. “I think it’s safe to say it was an experience I won’t forget.”

My heart melts at the memory of sharing that night with Matteo, the Italian hottie. I grin to myself, sipping my drink.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Huh? Oh nothing.”

“What about that
man
you were supposed to meet?”  His voice is suddenly hostile.

I almost choke on my drink, and I gulp the liquid down my throat quickly. He remembered that? He wasn’t supposed to know – I was on the phone to Tristan when Gabe barged in and felt the need to tell me about Matteo. I thought he had forgotten all about it, clearly I was wrong.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, my face not giving anything away.

Avoiding my glance, he takes a big sip of his scotch. Change of topic needed, stat.

“So what are you doing in New York?”

He raises his glass to the bartender, signalling him to make another one. He hasn’t even finished his yet.

“Like I said, I’m there to tie up some loose ends.”

“Your chattiness is mind blowing! Are you there to see your…” I stop myself, unable to continue. Is he there to see his ex, his former boss’s daughter? The idea of him meeting up with a woman rips through my heart.

“Who do you think I’m there to see?”

“Nothing, continue,” I say quietly.

“If you really must know, I’m there to interview some people to join the team. I reported to David Rogers before he left Greenhills and he’s interested in taking up the Corporate Events Director Role worked with, he will be a great asset. I’m also meeting Matthew Willis, who I think will make a fantastic Head of Operations. Not to mention, I’m meeting a big name client to discuss designing a corporate holiday event.  As I said, I’m there to tie up some loose ends.”

Oh.

“What did you think I was going there for?”

Instinctively, I grip the glass tighter. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Anyway—”

“What happened with your boss’s daughter?” I blurt out, raising my voice.

His eyes widen slightly.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I just do,” I say, failing to suppress my rising panic. Surely he can’t be going back to New York just to interview some people. He can do that via webcam, or phone call. Tristan wouldn’t fly half way across the world for something he can do back in Sydney, he just told me about being able to do planning anywhere in the world.

He looks at me, his eyes sharp. “Whatever you’re thinking and I think I have an idea what it is, stop it. There’s no need for speculation. My trip is purely business.”  

I shrug casually. “I’m just curious that’s all—”

“Let’s just say we wanted different things.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning when we couldn’t come to an agreement, I thought it was best to leave the company and start afresh.”

“Did you two…err…?”

Tristan takes a sip of his drink. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

I want to know, dammit!

“Are you still friends?”

“Yes.”

“Did your boss know?”

He gives me an ‘are-you-for-real’ look.

“No, and I would prefer to keep it that way.”

Suddenly the bartender comes by with Tristan’s third scotch, and I grab a few nuts from the trail mix. I shouldn’t care, but that pang of jealousy is there. I hate that it’s there, and there’s nothing I can do. Tristan whispers something inaudible to the bartender, presumably to order another drink. Geez, how many does he need? 

“I got you something from Italy,” I say, keen to change the subject.

He smiles, looking pleased. “Whatever it is, I’ll like it I’m sure.”

“I figured your place could do with some decorating. I’ve been to dentist’s offices that look better.”

He laughs softly, his shoulders loosening. “Oh really is that so?”

“It’s
neat
. I’ll give it that,” I smirk. “But I suppose it’s an improvement from the slob you used to be…”

Tristan glares at me playfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You used to be allergic to doing chores. Only my mum could get you to do the dishes, and you did them terribly. You could never scrub them properly.”

“As if you can talk. Wasn’t vacuuming your responsibility? Because I never saw a clean carpet at your house.”

I scoff loudly. “Trust me, not even a Dust Buster 1000 would be able to clean up after you and Hansley.”

He shakes his head, smiling inquisitively at me. “Well my place is a lot neater now isn’t it?”

“Err…only because there was hardly anything in it. Once you unpack it will probably be a pigsty.”

A loud snigger leaves his mouth. “You are unbelievable. Fine, I’ll have to invite you over more often to inspect it for me.”

He rests his elbow on the table and looks at me, hazel eyes intense. I shift in my seat, squirming inside. Why does he have this effect on me? One minute he drives me crazy, and the next minute he
really
drives me crazy. The only way to keep things going along smoothly is to keep teasing him.

Suddenly the bartender serves Tristan’s drink, except this time it’s a more vibrant looking drink. It’s got a wedge of lemon and a maraschino cherry sitting atop the light orange liquid.

He takes a short sip. “Whiskey sour. Here, try this,” he offers his drink to me.

“I can’t drink remember? Besides I wouldn’t want your cooties,” I tease.

“Think it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” he blurts out and my face drops immediately. A heavy silence settles over us, only muted by the quiet jazz music.

Things just got awkward, real fast.

 

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

 

 

I could not have done this without the following people (you know who you are but I’ll embarrass you anyway)

To my love Andrew – thank you for being my first beta reader, go-to opinion for male lingo and being you.

To my parents – thank you for saying I should have written years ago, I’m glad I’m finally doing it now.

To GY – thank you for starting before me. We’ll both get there one day, I know it.

To May – thank you for all the helpful advice from the very start, you have been an absolute godsend!

To Tracy – you are brilliant, that is all.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

Maggie Way is old enough to write about sexy romance, but young enough to blush at the steamy scenes. She hails from Sydney, Australia and lives with her boyfriend in who gets the privilege (and curse) of being the first to read her work.
When she isn’t in her own make-believe world conjuring up fresh and romantic adventures that lets her readers escape the daily grind, she likes to travel and watch cheesy movies while having fine cheese and wine with her girlfriends. 
You can contact her at
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