“On imagining her drowning in that fountain?” Mari nodded toward the decorative water feature behind Callan and Angelina’s table.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I took a sip of water. “The fountain isn’t deep enough. Besides, with her perfect bone structure, she probably floats.”
Mari nearly choked on her mimosa. “Oh my god, you’re jealous!”
“I am not,” I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. “I’m invested in a successful outcome. She’s exactlywhat he claimed to want, and they’re clearly hitting it off. This is a win.”
“This is the opposite of a win,” Mari disagreed. “A win would be you admitting you have feelings for the hot billionaire who’s been making heart eyes at you for weeks. A win would be you finally getting laid by someone whose net worth has more zeros than my phone number.”
“He has not been making heart eyes.” I rolled my actual eyes. “And even if he were, which he’s not, it would be completely inappropriate. He’s my client.”
“A client who took you to meet his grandmother.” Mari waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “A client who memorized your coffee order and has gotten it perfect every time. A man who would look tastier naked and painted with buttercream icing than that six tiered wedding cake from the Rosenburg-Titanus wedding.”
“Stop,” I groaned, though the mere mention of Callan naked had me clenching my thighs beneath the table. “You’re objectifying our client again.”
“So? You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to see that?” Mari bit her fork as she stared unabashedly at Callan. “Imagine licking the icing all the way down that beautiful chest towards his likely enormous?—”
“Mari!” I cut her off as a waiter approached with our check.
I handed over my credit card without looking at the total. The waiter retreated, and I turned back to Mari.
“Callan is a client,” I said firmly. “A client who is currently on a very successful date with a woman I selected for him. A woman who meets every requirement on his list. A woman who might very well become his wife. And I am thrilled about that, because it means I’ve done my job well.”
“Sure,” Mari muttered, taking another sip of her mimosa. “That’s why you’ve been shredding your napkin into confetti for the past ten minutes. Because you’re so thrilled.”
I looked down to find a small pile of paper scraps where my napkin had been. Quickly sweeping them into my palm, I deposited them in my water glass.
“The napkin was weak.”
“Uh-huh, so was that excuse.” Mari glanced over my shoulder. “Heads up. Lovebirds are leaving the nest. And, oh my god, she’s actually tucking her hair behind her ear in slow motion. Is she auditioning for a shampoo commercial?”
I turned, trying to appear casual, as Callan and Angelina stood from their table. He helped her with her cream cashmere coat, his hand lingering on her shoulder. She smiled up at him, saying something that made him laugh. They looked like a matched set. Both tall, both successful, both unfairly attractive.
This was what I wanted. A perfect match for my client. Yet my stomach revolted. Clearly it thought I’d swallowed a stone and not a cherry tomato. A very large, possibly radioactive stone.
“Oof,” Mari said, watching my face. “That bad, huh?”
“What?” I snapped my gaze back to her.
“Your face just did the thing it does if you were to find out a bride wanted to do an interpretive dance down the aisle. Or when someone suggests releasing doves indoors. Or that time the groomsman wanted to surprise the happy couple by playing the bagpipes at the reception despite never having taken a lesson.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, gathering my things. “I need to get back to the office. The wedding expo is tomorrow, and we still have a million things to prepare.”
As if on cue, my phone pinged with a text from Devonna.
Need final approval on expo display layout. 3 options attached. Also, Florist for Geoffries wedding called with peony crisis. Need response ASAP.
“Duty calls,” I said, standing. “You coming?”
Mari sighed dramatically. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”
“Yes, it is,” I insisted, leading the way out of the restaurant. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
“The lady doth protest too much,” Mari sang, following me.
“The lady will fire her business partner if she doesn’t drop it.”
“You can’t fire me. I know where all the bodies are buried. Metaphorically speaking.” She paused. “Mostly metaphorically.”
