Page 32 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

But she would text instead.

Tristan, could we meet for half an hour to discuss Harold’s offer? At Portofino’s perhaps? Noon? Or one. Or even tomorrow. I can’t give him an answer until you and I clear the air.

Portofino’s menu offered homemade pizza and salads. The restaurant had the added bonus of being right across the street from the office building that housed Lieberman and Dunn. If she remembered correctly, the prestigious agency occupied two full floors.

Tristan’s response was surprisingly quick.

I can do 1 pm. See you then.

She frowned. Not exactly a sonnet. But what did she expect? Her affair with Tristan Hamilton ended the moment he sneaked out of her room yesterday morning.

When she dove into the day’s schedule, it was easier to ignore the dull ache in her chest. It had been a great weekend, but Tabby was married now. Tristan was nothing more than Tabby’s brother-in-law. And Daley had a business to run.

Her staff was surprised to hear she would be out for lunch. Tabby frequently ate a sandwich at her desk. Maybe it wasn’t good for her mental health, but it kept her from getting behind.

“I’ll be back by two fifteen,” she said. “Don’t forget we have a meeting at four with the director of that dance studio.”

She ran out the door, hoping they would think this lunch was personal and not business. It’s possible one or two of them might be suspicious when they heard about a collaboration with Harold’s firm. Her people were young and quirky, and most of them worked from home one day a week. They might not like the idea of more structure.

Daley would have to worry about that later.

Right now, she had to deal with Tristan.

She beat him to the restaurant and snagged a table, pausing to send him a brief text so he could find her. She’d been seated maybe three minutes when he strolled through the lunch crowd in her direction.

Women watched him. It was impossible not to. He carried himself with the careless confidence of a man who was handsome and successful.

Daley closed her eyes briefly and tried to think of anything but a naked Tristan.

“Hi,” she said briskly, looking up at him. “Thank you for coming. I know it was short notice.”

He took the chair opposite hers, picked up a menu and studied it. “I’m starving.”

The server had been watching. She hurried over and, of course, looked at Tristan first. “May I get you something to drink?”

Tristan offered her a hundred-watt smile. “We’re in a bit of a time crunch. I’ll have the six-inch pepperoni with olives and a small salad. Plus a Diet Coke.” He turned. “Daley?”

“A mini calzone with a side salad. Lemonade, please.”

The young woman walked away. Suddenly, Daley was alone with Tristan.

It helped that they were surrounded by at least thirty other people. But not much.

He looked stressed. That was her first thought. Followed quickly by the realization that she needed to cut to the chase. He might only have half an hour.

“You weren’t happy about Harold’s offer,” she said bluntly.

He leaned back in his chair. “Wow. You aren’t even going to sweet-talk me first? I thought we had something, Ms. Martin.”

His lopsided grin was rueful.

Daley stared back at him, narrowing her eyes. “You left the hotel so fast there were skid marks on the driveway.”

He rolled his shoulders. “I was upset.”

“Why?” She frowned. “Are you really so against L&D buying my business?”

“On the contrary. I think it’s a splendid idea.”

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