Frayed (Connections, #4)(41)

I swallow and mutter, “Is that Tate?”

Her eyes confirm my suspicion without her having to say a single word.

My nerves start to buzz as I turn around and push the door. There stand Tate and Romeo.

“Miss Wilde, you decided to join us at work today. I’m so glad,” he says sternly but he’s still conducting himself civilly.

My eyes shift to Romeo’s. Aerie is right—he’s a stunner. And Ben is right too—he’s a snake. His look is aristocratic but bad boy at the same time. Dark brown wavy hair, a sexy, slender frame with broad shoulders, and boy, does he know how to dress! I thought Tate dressed with style, but Romeo is in a whole other league. Today he’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt, his gray tie crisply knotted around his neck, and he looks every bit as put together as Tate if not more so.

He speaks before I do. “Bell, I have to apologize. I realized after I arrived that our meeting is tomorrow, but Tate insisted I wait for you to get here.”

My eyes shoot back to Tate’s. He’s a man who gives his work more than one hundred percent, but the problem is he can’t give any aspect his one hundred percent attention. So he has me take on the more complex clients—the needier ones. And Romeo, he’s needy all right. But I’m not sure if his need isn’t to get me into a bathroom and have his way with me.

“Even though our appointment was for tomorrow morning, since you’re here we can go over any of your concerns now if you’d like,” I say to Romeo.

“Excellent. Today is a much better day for me and Laney is driving me crazy over selecting a band. She’s practically terrified that if we don’t nail one down we’ll be stuck with a DJ.”

Tate nods. “I’ll leave the two of you to iron out your fiancée’s concerns. And, Josie, has the announcement been sent to the paper so the wedding columnist can be notified?”

Josie’s blue hair moves like a wave as she skirts past us. “Mr. Wyatt, that is next on my list of things to do.” She doubles back and grabs the cup marked MOCHA off the table. “Thank you,” she mouths, and hustles out of the room.

“I’ll be in my office if you need me for anything, Bell. And, Romeo, it was a pleasure talking to you.”

Romeo smooths his tie between his thumb and finger. “As always, Tate.”

“Why don’t we go to the conference room?” I ask him when it’s just the two of us.

“I think here is fine.”

“Okay, let me go grab your file and I’ll be right back.”

“Of course,” he says, his eyes staring at the ruffled edges of my chiffon blouse that just happen to be right over my breasts.

I scurry out of the door. The conference room is visible from the showroom with a glass wall as the partition, but the break room is around the corner and not visible. Josie’s comments have me all kinds of paranoid now. I take a deep breath—he’s just a client. Stop reading more into it. Tate’s door is closed—thank God. I pass Josie’s desk and she shoots me a wink. I roll my eyes.

My desk is cluttered with linen samples, venue décor photos, centerpiece ideas—all pertaining to the Blair/Fairchild wedding. Laney Blair has yet to set foot inside this office. I haven’t even met her. It’s all a little strange that Romeo is my only contact, but he seems determined to pull off this wedding in record time. I grab the folder marked BANDS and my wedding file and head back toward the break room.

This time when I enter the room I can smell coffee percolating and my eyes flare to the counter—he made coffee? Wow, that’s a first. A client making his own. The beep of my phone rivets my attention to the table and right to Romeo’s prying eyes.

He knows I caught him and with a smile says, “Would that Ben Covington happen to have gone to high school in Laguna?”

I feel myself flushing. Why? The heat between Ben and me has to be evident on my face. “I think so,” I say, my voice shaky.

“He’s your boyfriend?” he asks inquisitively.

I drop my phone into my purse. “We’re just friends.”

“Right,” he says with a smirk that says friends with benefits. What the heck did Ben text? And up until now Aerie and Jagger are the only people aware of whatever is going on between Ben and me. Talking to Romeo about it doesn’t seem right.

I carefully place the folders and files in my hands on the table. “So bands, your fiancée has a valid concern—”

He cuts me off. “I went to high school with Ben. He was a surfer, had a girl, and seemed like a rebel. He had one guy friend I remember him hanging with, and he stayed clear of my crowd.”

I feel an anger rise inside me and I want to tell this arrogant guy that Ben’s not pretentious, and image has never mattered to him. But I don’t—of course instead I try to drop the subject. “I didn’t know him then. But anyway, there are only a few bands that have your wedding date open. Do you want to listen to them with your fiancée and let me know what you think?”

“Sit down. Please,” he says.

When I do he stands and goes over to the coffeepot, opening the cupboard above and pulling out a mug. “Would you like a fresh cup?”

I pull my own coffee from the tray and take the lid off. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

“Do you have sound clips for us to listen to now?”