Page 6 of Worth the Wait (Worth It All #2)

My Aston Martin’s engine purrs to a stop in the Esperanza Resort’s circular drive, the ninety-minute journey from Los Angeles having done nothing to calm my anticipation about seeing Lianne again. Fifteen minutes early—exactly as planned.

I step out into the Montecito morning, adjusting my jacket while taking in the limestone facade and manicured grounds that stretch across fifteen acres of prime California real estate.

Noah and Dominic Thorne built their hospitality empire on the same principles that made their steel manufacturing fortune—attention to detail, uncompromising quality, and the kind of service that makes billionaires feel their money is well spent.

Smart choice for Sterling Industries. Leave it to Lianne to see possibilities I’d missed despite playing golf here dozens of times.

I don’t know the Thorne brothers personally—despite playing their course regularly—yet Lianne managed to arrange this walkthrough on a day’s notice. Her industry connections are clearly more extensive than I realized, and that’s worth remembering for future business opportunities.

My phone buzzes— Running 5 minutes late. Erik Andersen, Director of Special Events, will meet you in the lobby.

Erik Andersen. The name means nothing to me, though event coordinators rarely move in my social circles. I pocket the phone and head toward the entrance, my footsteps echoing across marble floors as I enter a lobby designed to impress without trying too hard.

“Mr. Judd?”

I turn to find a tall man approaching, late thirties, with the kind of easy smile that suggests he’s mastered the art of making wealthy clients feel understood. His handshake is firm, professional.

“Erik Andersen,” he introduces himself. “Director of Special Events. Pleasure to meet you. Lianne speaks very highly of your vision for the Sterling Industries gala.”

Lianne. Not Miss Peralta. The familiarity in his voice when he says her name catches my attention immediately.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what the Esperanza can offer,” I reply, falling into step beside him as he leads me toward the ballroom complex. “Lianne mentioned this property could accommodate our specific requirements.”

“She knows our capabilities better than almost anyone,” Erik says, and there’s something in his tone—warmth, maybe fondness—that makes me glance at him more carefully.

“We’ve collaborated on several high-profile events over the past few years.

She has excellent instincts for matching clients with venues. ”

Collaborated. An interesting choice of words.

“The Sterling Industries gala will be our largest event to date,” I say, steering the conversation back to business. “Five hundred guests, significant media coverage, attendees who expect perfection.”

“Understood. We’ve handled events of similar scope and visibility.

” Erik pauses at the entrance to the main ballroom, his hand resting on the ornate double doors.

“Before we go in, I should mention that Lianne and I have worked together extensively. She knows I’ll give you my honest assessment of what we can deliver, not just what you want to hear. ”

“Miss Peralta will be coordinating directly with me from now on,” I say, my tone clipped. “I prefer hands-on oversight.”

Before he can respond, I hear the click of heels on marble and turn to see Lianne approaching across the lobby.

She’s wearing a navy dress that skims her knees and emphasizes every curve, her hair pulled back in a way that showcases the elegant line of her neck.

Professional but feminine, authoritative but approachable.

Beautiful.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, though she doesn’t look particularly apologetic. “Getting out of LA was tougher than I thought.”

“No problem at all,” Erik replies, and I notice how his entire demeanor shifts when she appears. The professional courtesy becomes something warmer, more personal. “I was just telling Mr. Judd about our collaboration history.”

“Erik and I have worked together on several successful events,” she says as that familiar feeling hits me again, this time in my gut. “He’s one of the best in the business.”

I’m sure he is.

“Shall we start with the ballroom?” Erik suggests, opening the doors with a flourish.

“The Grand Ballroom can accommodate up to six hundred for dinner service,” he explains as he moves through the space.

Soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers that cast prismatic light across the polished floors, floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the golf course like a living painting.

“We have state-of-the-art audiovisual capabilities, climate control that maintains perfect temperature regardless of occupancy, and access to our executive chef’s full menu. ”

I nod, making appropriate sounds of interest, but I’m distracted by watching Lianne and Erik work together.

They move through the space with synchronized efficiency, she pointing out details that matter for the Sterling Industries event while he provides technical specifications and logistical solutions.

“The acoustics are particularly good for speeches,” Lianne says, gesturing toward the raised platform at one end of the room. “We could position the podium here for maximum visibility, with screens along the side walls for guests in the back.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Erik agrees, and I notice how he steps closer to her as he points out the technical booth. “We upgraded our sound system last year specifically for events like this. Crystal clear audio even with background music and conversation.”

His hand touches her arm briefly as he guides her attention to something near the windows, a casual gesture that speaks of familiarity and comfort. The kind of touch that happens between people who know each other well, who’ve worked together long enough to develop easy intimacy.

I don’t like it.

The realization surprises me. Lianne is a grown woman, a successful professional who can choose her own colleagues and business relationships. What she does, who she works with, who she’s comfortable with—none of that is my concern.

Except it feels like my concern.

“The catering facilities are adjacent,” Erik continues, leading us toward a service area. “Our executive chef specializes in contemporary American cuisine with international influences, perfect for diverse corporate events.”

“We’ll want to review menu options,” I interject, my voice coming out sharper than intended. “Sterling Industries has specific requirements for dietary accommodations and presentation standards.”

Erik turns to me. “Of course. We can arrange a tasting menu for any items you’re considering. Lianne usually likes to review options before presenting them to clients.”

Lianne usually likes. As if they have an established routine, a working relationship built on mutual understanding and shared preferences.

“I’m sure Miss Peralta appreciates your attention to her professional needs,” I say, emphasizing the formal address. “However, as the client, I prefer to be involved in all major decisions from the beginning.”

Lianne’s eyebrows rise slightly at my tone, while Erik’s professional smile becomes more cautious.

“Absolutely,” Erik says smoothly. “We can coordinate whatever approval process works best for your team.”

“Mr. Judd prefers a hands-on approach,” Lianne explains, her voice carefully neutral. “He’ll be personally involved in vendor selections and major planning decisions.”

There’s something in the way she says it that makes Erik glance between us, his eyes narrowing before he flashes a grin.

“That’s excellent,” he says. “Most executives at your level delegate event planning to their teams.”

“This anniversary gala is particularly important to Sterling Industries,” I reply, moving closer to examine the room’s architectural details. “I want to ensure every element reflects our standards.”

It’s a reasonable explanation, the kind of justification that makes sense from a business perspective. But even as I say it, I know it’s weak. Anyone with two working neurons can tell there’s more to my involvement than protecting some company’s reputation.

And I’m not ashamed to say it—no think it. I don’t want to see Lianne comfortable with other men. I don’t want to watch her work with someone who knows her preferences, who can anticipate her needs, who touches her arm with casual familiarity.

“Why don’t we look at the private dining options?” Lianne suggests, clearly trying to move the conversation back to safer ground. “Sterling Industries might want spaces for VIP reception or board member meetings.”

“Excellent idea,” Erik agrees, leading us toward a corridor lined with smaller event spaces. “We have several private rooms that work well for intimate gatherings.”

As we walk, I notice how Erik continues to defer to Lianne’s expertise while providing supporting information. They’ve clearly worked together enough times to develop shorthand, to anticipate each other’s questions and concerns.

It’s the kind of professional partnership that develops over time, through successful projects and mutual trust. The kind of relationship that could easily become something more personal.

I still don’t like it.

“The Founder’s Room is particularly popular for corporate events,” Erik explains, opening doors to reveal an intimate space with rich wood paneling and a view of the golf course. “Perfect for twenty to thirty guests, with full audiovisual capabilities.”

“This could work for the board dinner the night before the gala,” Lianne muses, making notes in her portfolio. “Private, elegant, convenient for guests staying at the hotel.”

“We could arrange a private menu tasting here,” Erik suggests. “Give the board members a preview of what to expect at the main event.”

Again, that easy collaboration. Again, the casual familiarity that suggests they’ve done this before, successfully.