Mine to Lose (8 page)

“Lisa,” I greet her, extending my hand.
“It’s so nice to meet you finally. My client should join us in just a minute.”
She glances past me and nods, acknowledging his presence.

Lisa’s warm smile turns devilish when she
takes in Trey, and I internally roll my eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Emogen.”
She makes eye contact with Trey. “Mr. Miller.” He doesn’t correct her, and that
strikes me as odd, but she shows us in to her office. As I pass her, she
whispers, “Well done.”

I peek at her and smirk before shaking my
head. She gives me a quick wink as she rounds the table and opens up an album.
I laugh at her insinuation. While he looks over her portfolio of past events, I
sneak a glance at Trey to see what it is that Lisa seems so impressed with.
Perhaps it’s his tall stature, or chiseled jaw, but neither of those are enough
to elicit the reaction she had when we walked in.
At least, not in my
opinion
. To me, his rugged appearance seems out of place for an office
setting, but then again, when you own your own business, I guess you can make
whatever rules seem to fit. He
is
attractive, but if I compare him to
Ryan, there’s no contest. I shrug off her obvious attraction to him and try to
turn my focus back to the album in front of us. Only when I do, Trey looks up
and catches me looking at him, smirking as he returns to his conversation with
Lisa.

I’m instantly embarrassed because I’m sure
he thinks I was checking him out, and my bright red cheeks will only solidify
that thought more. I sigh and resign my thoughts to the business at hand, the
T.M. Enterprises event. “Excuse me, Lisa,” I interrupt as she describes the
most recent corporate even she hosted. “How many did you say this facility
holds?”

She looks through her folder and hands me
a sheet of paper. “The room just across from us holds three hundred, and the
smaller room holds about one hundred and fifty. If you wanted the entire place,
we can accommodate approximately six hundred.”

Trey is pleased with her numbers, as well
as her presentation. I had a feeling he would like Ivy Glen, which is why I
wanted to bring him here first; now all the others will have to meet these
standards, at a minimum. He gives me an appreciative nod and I wrap up our
meeting with Lisa, letting her know that I’ll be in touch soon. Walking out of
the Ivy, I feel even more confident that I will be able to provide everything
that is needed for this event.

“So how’s your husband?” Trey asks as we
approach his car.

Bemused, I look at him, and then down to
my hand, fidgeting with my engagement ring. “I’m not married. Why do you ask?”

“Whoever he was looked ready to kick my
ass the other night,” he answers, as he continues walking, leaving me standing
in place, realizing where I know him from.

Fuck!

To say the ride back to his office was
uncomfortable is an understatement. Awkward? Yes. Hell on earth? Absolutely.

I would be lying if I said that I didn’t
find Trey attractive, because he is. Riding in a car with Mr. Miller, my client
was professional.
Easy
. But riding with Trey Miller, the handsome
stranger that wanted to save me not too long ago, I felt vulnerable. For some
reason, learning that he was the guy from the other night made me feel exposed.
There was a need in me to find something about him to connect the would-be-hero
to my client.

I tried to keep my gaze from falling
anywhere, except on him, but it was hard to ignore his presence. I was aware of
his arm between us and watched as his strong hand flexed when shifting gears.
He had taken his jacket off before getting into the car, so his white fitted
dress shirt left very little to the imagination.

He clears his throat and speaks with an
apologetic tone. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” I lie. “It’s
fine.”

“I told you I knew you from somewhere,”
he says. When I look at him, an amused smile crosses his lips.
Is he
flirting with me?

“Yes.” I return his smile and nod. “You
did say that. Guess I should have listened. I have to admit, I’m a little
embarrassed now, knowing that was you.” I can feel my cheeks turning hot. “I
don’t drink in front of my clients.”

“Well, lucky for you, I wasn’t a client that
night.” His eyes remain fixed on the road ahead. “Just a guy who wanted to help
a girl out,” he finishes, causing my pulse to quicken.

Neither one of us says anything else for
a few minutes, but then he glances at me, and speaks up again. “So if you’re
not married, why did he call you his wife?”

My body tenses and my throat feels tight
as I try to give a light response. “Actually, we’re engaged, and you know how
territorial men can be.”

“Is he going to be okay with you
coordinating this event?” he asks, with a genuine concern that I appreciate.

“Ryan? He’ll be fine, not that he’s
around right now anyway,” I answer.
Why did I say that?

“What do you mean he’s not around?” he
asks, baffled by my response.

I huff an annoyed breath, “He just moved
to California this weekend for work.”

“And you didn’t go with him?”

“Obviously I didn’t,” I retort forgetting
for the moment that this is a client, allowing my anger to seep through. Not
that I owe
Mr. Miller
an explanation, and yet I can’t seem to stop
revealing too much of my personal shit.

“It’s none of my business,” he admits. “I
apologize for prying.”

I nod and give Trey a tight smile, trying
my best to change the mood.

A short time later, he pulls into the
T.M. parking lot and I try to remain cool as I exit the car. I grab my
belongings and notice that he’s waiting at the front of his parking space for
me. I gather what’s left of my pride and I walk over to shake his hand. “It was
nice meeting you.”

He reaches his hand to take mine and holds
it gently, sending tingles throughout my body. “I agree. I hope I didn’t make things
awkward.”

The only thing that’s uncomfortable are
the butterflies that decide to take up residence in the pit of my stomach at this
very moment. I do my best to cover any signs that he’s affecting me so I can focus
on the task at hand.

“Lisa said she would email me the
different table layouts they have used in the past, as well as some caterers
that they have worked well with,” I say in a rush, trying to allow myself to
make a somewhat graceful exit. “I’ll also contact the other facilities you
mentioned to get an idea of their capacity.”

“Okay, well, we can work on that next,”
he counters, his gaze boring into me.

“Trey?”

“Yeah?”

“I need my hand back,” I inform him when
I feel my fingers becoming increasingly clammy.

He lets go and shrugs. “Sorry ‘bout that.
Just let me know when you have that information and we’ll set up another
meeting.”

You know that feeling you get when you
know someone is watching you? That’s the feeling I have right now, and I can’t
help but feel self-conscious thinking he’s checking out my ass. My suspicions
are confirmed when I chance a look back and his eyes snap up to meet mine. He
flashes a bright smile, unapologetically checking me out.

Driving back to the office, I keep
reminding myself it’s not the end of the world. Then again, my fiancé only
snapped at my first and only solo client, not that I’m mad at him, he didn’t
know.

* * *

Since I have been away for most of the day,
my desk is empty when I set my files down. I pull out my notes so that I can
type everything up to add to the client information sheet when Cam comes by my
desk to see how the meeting went. She knows how nervous I was to handle this
one on my own. When I look at her, she can tell something’s up. “How did it
go?”

“It was great. Have you been to their
offices before?” I’m slightly over-exaggerating my excitement, and I hope she doesn’t
question why.

“I haven’t, but I heard they’re pretty
nice,”

“Yeah, very impressive.” I start
unloading my bag before I sit down. “Mr. Miller wanted me to show him some
other places, but we stayed at Ivy Glen so long, we didn’t get a chance,” I
huff, leaning back in my chair.

“Does he want to see the other places?”

“I’m not sure,” I start; debating on
sharing with her the apprehension I feel after what just took place.

“Well, he either does want to see them,
or he doesn’t. Did you ask him?”

“Not exactly,” I say, avoiding her stare.

“What’s going on?” she demands. “Please
tell me you didn’t blow this?”

The sting of her accusation causes my
defenses to go up and my voice becomes very controlled. “No, Cam. I didn’t blow
it, but thanks for believing in me.”

“What am I supposed to think? You won’t
give me a straight answer, so what’s the deal?”

Resigned to sharing with her my experience
with Trey, I sit back and wait for her to do the same. “Remember that night I
got wasted and drunk-dialed you?” I don’t wait for her to acknowledge, because
she still teases me about that night. “Trey- I mean, Mr. Miller- is the guy who
Ryan got all pissy with.”

“What?”

“I didn’t even know who he was. I mean,
he seemed familiar, but you know how many people we see at the weddings and
corporate events we coordinate, I just figured maybe I’d seen him at one of
those,” I explain to her. “It wasn’t until he asked about my
husband
that I knew who he was, even though he pretty much had to tell me.”

“Did he-” Cam starts, but is cut off by
Elle.

“Emogen.” She summons me from her office.
“Can you come in here a sec?”

Without so much as another word on the
matter, I leave my desk, files in hand, for Elle’s office. When I get to her
door, she waves me in while leaving a message for someone. She hangs up and
folds her arms over her chest, appearing very stern. “I was just talking to Mr.
Miller on the phone,” she explains.

“Elle, I can explain…” I try to beat her
to the punch. “I really appreciate you letting me take this on, but I don’t
think I’m ready to go it alone yet. Perhaps you could put someone else on this
account?”

Her face contorts into confusion as she
leans forward, placing her arms on her desk. “Why would I give the T.M. event
to someone else?”

“I just think someone with more
experience should handle it,” I admit half-heartedly.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to
happen, not after the phone call I just had with Mr. Miller,” she says. “He
just increased the budget by another ten grand. With the stipulation that you
continue to handle everything.”

“He did what?” I ask, astounded. “Why
would he do that? He hasn’t even seen the other venues; we didn’t get to talk about
catering or entertainment, whether they would need a valet service-” Elle
throws a hand up in the air, halting my ramblings.

“There is plenty of time for all of that.
You will need to set up a time to meet with him to visit the other places, and
go over all of the other stuff you just mentioned.” With another wave of her
hand, she dismisses me. I stand to leave her office, baffled by everything that
just happened. “Whatever you’re doing, Emogen…” I look back to see her staring
at her computer screen. “Keep doing it.”

Cam sees me approaching my desk and meets
me there, curiosity all over her face. “What was that all about?”

When I don’t answer, she tries again to
get my attention. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, still
processing what Elle just told me.

“I asked what happened.”

When I finally look at her, I shake away
the confusion that has settled over me. “I’ll tell you about it when we meet at
my place later.”

* * *

Joss had things to take care of at work,
so she called and said she would be over later, which was fine with me. All I
wanted to do was get home, change my clothes, and forget about today. The
apartment is still a mess from when Ryan left. I haven’t had the motivation to
clean up after myself; something about the disaster area lets me feel like I’m
not alone. Although I’m sure if Ryan were here, the mess would be ten times
worse. We’ve had a routine since moving out here that Friday night is our cleanup
time; after our busy week, straightening up leaves us able to relax for the
rest of the weekend.

But right now, staring at the kitchen
counter, the couch and whatever is left of the floor, Friday is today, because
my friends are coming over, and this mess will just alarm them. I make quick
time of rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher before picking all the
laundry off the floor. The knock on the door tells me one, or both, of the
girls are here, so I grab the last of the clothes and toss them into my room,
shutting the door behind me.

“Coming,” I yell, looking around once
more for any evidence of the last few sloppy days. When I open the door, Joss
pushes past me, a bottle of wine in hand. “By all means, come on in,” I say,
following behind her.

“Bitchy, much?”

“I’m not bitchy,” I argue, grabbing two
glasses from the cabinet. “It’s been a long day. But what’s up with you?”

She hasn’t been still for a second, only
makes a show of tossing her stuff on the table so she has both hands to open
the wine. “Remember that guy I told you about at work?”

“Would this be ‘Evil Bastard’ or ‘Sleazy
Bastard’?”

She stops mid-pour and smiles, touching
her heart. “Aw, you do listen to me.” I laugh, and encourage her to continue.
“Evil Bastard,” she explains, “and I have been working on a huge project. We
are in the middle of setting up several contracts that will allow the company
license to work in the larger cities, which is great. We’ve been working day
and night.” She turns to face me. “Look at these.” She points to her eyes. “I
don’t do baggy eyes.”

“Shut up, Joss.” I grab my glass and head
to the couch. “You look great and you know it.”

“That’s beside the point,” she brushes me
off to finish her story. “So, Evil Bastard tells me, ‘hey, we’re almost done
with this, let’s call it a night and pick up tomorrow.’”

“That was nice.”

She glares at me. “Not. Finished.” I
throw my hands up apologetically and she continues, “Fucker shows up this
morning, early, and goes to the project manager and shows him the completed
project. And takes all the credit!”

“He didn’t!”

“Yes he did, asshole!” She takes a large
gulp of wine and lets out a heavy sigh.

The silence stretches and I huff out a
relieved breath. “Wow, and I was going to complain about
my
day.”

Joss sits up and turns to face me. “What
happened to you today?”

“Do you remember the guy from the club?
Oh, no, of course you don’t, you were too busy hiding from me because you
called Ryan to tell on me.” She doesn’t even try to argue, because I have let
her off the hook, up to this point. “I told you some guy tried to be all
‘white-knight’ on me that night in front of Ryan, right?”

“Vaguely,” she admits, raising her
half-empty glass at me.
Yep, this is familiar.

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember much about
what he looked like, since I was no better off than you. But apparently, he
remembers me.”

“What in the
hell
are you talking
about? How do you know he remembers you?”

“It figures, Elle lets me take on my
first project alone and my client contact there gets fired.”

“So?”

“So, now I have to deal with the owner.
The owner who just happens to be the guy from the club.” When I finish, I grab
my glass of wine, raising it to Joss and lean back, exhausted.

“Are you shitting me?”