Page 67 of Savannah Sweethearts

“That was me, I was adjunct at the time under Dr. Jackson.” He turned to Linaya. “That’s why I thought I knew you, you look like your sister.”

My sister laughed her high-pitched nervous laugh. Things had just gotten a little awkward – well, more awkward. We ordered our dinners and Orlando asked Linaya polite questions about her future plans, which included a desire to go to New York and design costumes for Broadway. She was always into the theater, despite not having any acting skills.

After two glasses of wine, Josiah was starting to loosen up. “Boy, you two sure like out of the ordinary jobs. No regular nine-to-fives, huh? I guess you’ll kick back and live the high life when you get married?”

My glass hit the table so hard I thought it would crack the stem. “Excuse me, but what do our career choices have to do with getting married? Nobody at this table it looking to get married anytime soon. Especially not my twenty-one-year-old, still-in-school sister.”

The table was silent for a few beats. I sent a murderous glare at Dr. Whitman while Linaya looked like a deer in headlights. The professor kept his eyes down, refusing to meet anyone else’s gaze.

“Dr. Whitman, if I may, what is it your parents do for a living?” Orlando stabbed a piece of salmon and smiled politely at the professor.

Caught off guard, Josiah nodded. “My father is a CPA and my mother is a high school history teacher. But she took time off when she had my brother and I.”

The rest of the evening didn’t get much better. I found Dr. Whitman to be a pompous, arrogant man who was only interested in having a pretty, young co-ed on his arm. When we parted ways, Linaya looked like she wanted to cry, but had assured me she was fine to ride home with the illustrious professor.

“Well, that was a disaster.” I stalked from the restaurant, Orlando on my heels. I spun to face him and he nearly smacked into me. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem at all. You were very kind to come with me and I do appreciate it.”

He raked a hand through his hair and smiled, my heart leapt just a little. “It wasn’t a total disaster. If anything, maybe your sister will realize this isn’t the guy for her. But ultimately, she’s an adult and can make her own decisions.”

“She’s not an adult, she’s a little girl.” I pictured my sister with ebony pigtails as she ran around the living room with her favorite mermaid doll.

“You said yourself she’s twenty-one. That’s an adult.” Orlando flinched as I shot him a look that could ignite flames. “Maybe she’s not that mature, but that only comes with experience, you know?”

I lowered myself to a bench on the sidewalk and groaned. “Sometimes being the big sister sucks.”

“Hey, I’m a big brother, I get it.” He sat next to me and looked like he wanted to pat my knee but he hesitated.

I looked up at him, searching my mind for information that wasn’t there. “I didn’t realize Cordelia had another child.”

“She doesn’t. My father and his second wife had children. Brett is eighteen and thinks he knows everything, and Lily is fifteen.” He licked his lips, causing me to lose my focus on my sister.

I bet he tasted divine. The honey glaze on his dinner might have lingered and I desperately wanted to find out and distract myself from my sister’s current inferno. Perhaps I could start an inferno of my own.

Distance, I needed distance before I did something I shouldn’t. Getting to my feet, I stepped away from him. “Well, I should get going and let you get back home. I do appreciate your coming with me tonight.”

“Anytime, Amaya. We should do it again soon.”

I rushed to my car before I could do something truly stupid.

Orlando

I have never dated people I work with, so this left me in a conundrum. I really liked Amaya. And while we didn’t work together, we did work together. She wasn’t my employee. We didn’t stare at each other all day from across the office – I’ve been there and it was incredibly smothering. But I would certainly see her often enough.

Plus, my mother wanted me to offer her a job as an in-house event coordinator. She could still be a professional bridesmaid for those who want it, or just a regular coordinator. Now that we were doing more and more private events, Mom thought it required us to have our own person on staff.

What my mother didn’t know was that I’m not completely sure I want to keep The Promenade. Sure, it’s a lucrative business, but it’s not the business I know. I know corporate mergers and takeovers, not formal gatherings for weddings and parties. I was so out of my element. And I would hate to hire Amaya just to sell the place and her end up out of a job.

And I didn’t date people I worked with.

My brain told me that, but when I saw her coming down the hall with a couple hot on her heels, my breath hitched. She wore a black knee-length pencil skirt and an emerald green silk blouse. She looked professional and sophisticated and I desperately wanted her to turn around so I can see her walk away in that skirt.

She spoke openly with the woman beside her, the man clearly tagging along. They must be a couple she’s working with. I had no reason to go down the hall, but I found myself looking straight ahead as I barreled toward them.

“Oh, Mr. Daniels. May I introduce Misty Allen and her fiancé Connor Harwood? They’re considering The Promenade for their wedding next year.” Amaya’s mouth turned up into an easy smile and her eyes sparkled in the low lights.

The urge to cup her face in my hands was overwhelming, so I stuffed my hands in my pockets. Then realized I would need to shake hands, so I pulled them back out again. “A pleasure. I do hope you like the look of things.”

The groom shook my hand and looked desperate for a guy to commiserate with. The bride offered me a limp hand and barely looked my way. Instead, she marveled at a piece of art on the wall. “Oh, this is gorgeous.”

---