Ihad had very little sleep the night before, and I was dragging. I was hoping to nap out in the sunshine on the terrace while the kids played. But I knew Greg was right, as much as I hated to admit it. If I could score the Art Zurich Biennial Expo, that would put my conference center on the map. It would be wildly successful.
I was still daydreaming about how awesome my conference center was going to be when I sat in one of the large leather chairs in the conference room that looked out over the town square. Josie had to go to Manhattan, and I wondered just how organized this art committee was going to be. I bet it was a pack of senior citizens who thought a couple of high-school-level murals were enough to make Harrogate attractive to the Art Zurich crowd.
I yawned and then almost choked when the door opened and a familiar poofy-haired brunette walked in. She saw me, and I resisted the urge to clap a hand over my balls. The look Hazel gave me said she would gladly remove them for me.
"What a pleasant surprise," I said, turning on the charm.
"You mean unpleasant," Hazel replied. "How dare you show up in my committee meeting?"
"Your committee meeting? Josie said I was going to be running this."
"No, she didn't," Hazel sputtered.
I laughed. "Relax. I'm not trying to steal your committee. I'm here to offer my much-needed expertise."
"Expertise in what, being a jerk?"
"It was just a joke," I told her. "Anyways, you were the one who offered your nighttime services."
"That was ajoke," Hazel shrieked.
"See?" I said. "We both do sexual things we regret."
"I didn't do anything sexual with you."
"You said I made you wet."
"You made me sweaty."
"Got her all sweaty," I said to her friends, who each had a hand over their mouths, I supposed to keep from laughing or screaming.
"It's not like your phone sex doesn't leave a lot to be desired," I told Hazel.
"You heard that?" she asked, horrified.
"You called a random stranger and gave him phone sex?" Jemma asked her friend in confusion.
"Not just a stranger, my half brother," I said.
"I didn't do that. He's lying! I just introduced myself and asked for you by the dumb nickname you gave because you can't say your name like a normal person." Hazel's cheeks were flushed, and tendrils of her curly hair had escaped from the ponytail to frame her face.
"Greg's face when you called him Donut Danish." I started snickering, which made her even madder. "I can't." I wiped away a tear in an exaggerated gesture. "It was priceless. Really worth not getting any sleep."
"Get out," Hazel said flatly.
"No," I said, leaning back in my chair. I thought I saw her eyes flick to the tattoo on my chest right under my collarbone. "I need us to win this Art Zurich Expo. And we need to do a better showing than the giant vegetable exhibition or the butter-carving contest."
"If you're trying to insult my Etsy painting—"
I held up a hand and choked down a laugh. "I wouldn't dare. That painting of the naked baby in the squash bucket was a masterpiece. The way you captured the look in his eyes, like he just had a premonition of the apocalypse, was masterful."
"Stop mocking me."
"I'm not mocking," I said, standing up. "I am a gentleman and an art scholar, which is why I really need to be on this committee. See, you don't understand—that man you called and harassed this morning?"
"That was you!" she shrieked.
"Hazel, honestly. Greg won't pay for the Mast Brothers' chocolate factory site unless we win this expo."
