Page 17 of Worth the Wait (Worth It All #2)
“Amanda, can you handle the Sterling Industries check-in today?”
I don’t look up from my laptop as I ask the question, trying to make it sound like a casual delegation rather than the careful avoidance strategy it actually is.
Two weeks.
It’s been exactly fourteen days since I woke up in that hotel room next to Cameron, since we spent an awkward breakfast pretending we hadn’t made love with desperate tenderness just hours before, since I decided that maintaining professional boundaries was more important than exploring whatever this thing between us might be.
Fourteen days of successfully avoiding direct contact with him, and I’m starting to think I might actually pull this off.
“Of course,” Amanda replies, making a note in her planner. “What should I tell him if he asks about the timeline adjustments?”
“Tell him we’re on schedule. The venue is locked, catering is confirmed, entertainment is booked. Everything’s proceeding according to plan.”
Which is true. The Sterling Industries anniversary gala is shaping up to be exactly the kind of sophisticated celebration that will cement Luminous Events’ reputation in the luxury corporate market.
Every detail has been meticulously planned and executed.
The Esperanza Resort’s ballroom will be transformed into an elegant showcase of Sterling Industries’ fifty-year legacy.
The wine selections we chose during that fateful trip to Santa Barbara have been delivered and properly stored.
Even the peonies—those expensive, non-local flowers that Cameron suggested because he remembered they were my favorites—have been confirmed and will arrive the morning of the event.
I should be thrilled about the professional success, the glowing references we’ll receive, the doors this event will open for future business.
Instead, I find myself checking my phone every few hours, wondering if Cameron will insist on speaking with me directly instead of working through Amanda.
He hasn’t. He’s been perfectly professional, perfectly appropriate, accepting Amanda’s updates and approving decisions through email and scheduled calls that happen when I’m conveniently in other meetings.
It’s exactly what I wanted. So why does it feel like disappointment?
Maybe it’s because of what Maya mentioned last week—something Declan had said about seeing Cameron at the country club with a beautiful blond woman.
“Probably nothing,” Maya had added quickly, “you know how these business networking things go.”
But the comment lodged itself in my chest like a splinter, a reminder that Cameron Phillip Arthur Judd moves in circles where beautiful, accomplished women are as common as expensive wine.
A reminder that whatever happened between us in Santa Barbara doesn’t give me any claim on him or his time.
“Lianne?” Amanda’s voice cuts through my brooding. “The Martinez wedding rehearsal is this afternoon. Do you want me to handle the Sterling call before or after?”
“After,” I decide. “Maria Martinez deserves my full attention today.”
The Martinez wedding is exactly the kind of event that reminds me why I love this business.
A celebration of love that’s been two years in the planning, with family traditions woven throughout every detail and a couple so genuinely happy that being around them makes everyone smile.
Maria is a teacher from East LA, Carlos works in construction, and they’ve saved for three years to have the wedding of their dreams.
It’s the kind of love story that makes me believe in happily ever after, even when my own love life feels like a series of complicated mistakes and missed opportunities.
It’s also a welcome distraction from thinking about hazel eyes and the way Cameron’s hands felt tangled in my hair. Or the way it felt kissing him, taking in the scent of him, the feel of him…
Ok. Stop.
Still, I can’t avoid him forever. That I’ve made it this far—two weeks—is a master class in strategic avoidance.
Poor Amanda. She’s been the one who’s had to handle his calls while I threw myself into other projects with an intensity that’s impressed even my own staff.
The Cole anniversary party, the Williams corporate retreat, the charity auction for the Children’s Hospital—all events that require my personal attention and keep me too busy to think about wine cellars and hotel rooms and the way it felt to wake up in his arms before reality crashed back in.
But the strategy only works during business hours.
At night, alone in my apartment, the memories creep back in.
The way he remembered my favorite songs during our drive to Santa Barbara.
The vulnerable honesty in his voice when he talked about learning to build businesses with purpose instead of just profit.
The way he held me afterward, like I was something precious he’d thought he’d lost forever.
The way leaving that morning felt like tearing my heart in half.
I’ve been telling myself that sleeping with him was closure, a way to finally put the past to rest. Instead, it only reminded me how much I’ve never stopped loving him, how easily I could fall back into believing in us despite every logical reason not to.
Until Maya mentioned that blond at the country club, a stark reminder that there are plenty of other women who fit seamlessly into his world without any of the complications that I bring.
Women like the one Declan saw him with. Beautiful, sophisticated, probably from the right family with the right connections. The kind of woman his parents would approve of, who would never make him choose between love and family expectations.
The kind of woman I’ll never be.
“I’m heading out,” Amanda calls from her office at six o’clock.
With two events tomorrow including the Martinez wedding, everyone else is out of the office except for us.
“The Sterling call went well. Mr. Judd approved the final entertainment lineup and confirmed the guest count. Five hundred confirmed attendees, including several board members who’ll be flying in from New York and overseas. ”
Mr. Judd. Back to formal titles, as if we never progressed to first names, never shared wine and conversation and kisses that left me breathless.
“Great,” I manage. “Did he have any questions about the timeline?”
“Just one. He wanted to confirm that you’ll be personally overseeing the event setup.” Amanda pauses, studying my face. “I told him yes, of course. That’s standard for our premium events.”
“Right,” I mutter. “Standard.”
“He also asked...” Amanda hesitates, then takes a deep breath before continuing, “He asked if you were satisfied with how everything was progressing. If there was anything you needed from him to ensure the event’s success.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you’re extremely thorough and that everything is under control. Which is true.” Amanda gathers her things, then pauses at my office door. “Is everything okay between you and Mr. Judd? The dynamic seems... different lately. Ever since Santa Barbara.”
Different. Of course, it’s different.
It has to be.
“Everything’s fine,” I reply, forcing a smile. “We’re just focused on delivering an exceptional event. Like we always do.”
Amanda nods, though her expression suggests she’s not entirely convinced. “Okay. Well, have a good evening. Don’t stay too late.”
“You too.”
The office grows quiet after she leaves, just the hum of air conditioning and the distant sounds of downtown LA traffic below.
I should go home, order takeout, stream something mindless while trying not to think of the fact that Cameron and I have managed to successfully avoid each other for two weeks.
Instead, I find myself reorganizing files that don’t need organizing, reviewing timelines that are already perfect, doing anything to avoid going home to my empty apartment where I’ll have nothing to distract me from the memory of waking up next to him.
The Sterling Industries folder sits on my desk, thick with contracts and vendor agreements and detailed plans for an event that represents everything I’ve worked toward professionally.
I flip through the documents, noting the progression from our initial meeting to the comprehensive celebration we’ve designed.
Everything is perfect. The venue, the catering, the entertainment, the flowers. Even the wine selections that came from that day when Cameron and I rediscovered each other over tastings and long conversations about music and dreams and the people we’ve become.
The only thing missing is the easy collaboration we had before everything got complicated by hotel rooms and sex… and the realization that some feelings never really go away, no matter how much time passes or how many professional boundaries you try to maintain.
I’m so absorbed in unnecessary busy work that I don’t hear the elevator or footsteps in the hallway. I don’t realize I have company until a familiar voice says my name.
“Lianne.”
The sight of Cameron standing in my office doorway leaves me breathless. He’s wearing a charcoal suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders, his hair slightly mussed as if he’s been running his hands through it, and there’s something in his expression that makes my pulse spike immediately.
He looks tired, I realize. Not physically exhausted, but emotionally drained in a way I recognize because I’ve been feeling the same way for two weeks. The same way I felt that morning when I slipped out of his arms before he woke up.
“Cam...” His name comes out rougher than I intended. “I thought Amanda handled your call this afternoon.”
“She did.” He steps into my office, closing the door behind him with a soft click that suddenly makes the space feel very small and very private. Too much like that hotel room where I let him see every part of me. “But I needed to speak with you directly.”
“About what? Everything’s on schedule. The timeline hasn’t changed.”