day. Marlon said she’d gone to work, where she was unreachable, and she’d switched her cell off.
The inquisition would have to wait. It figured Lachlan was a work acquaintance and he’d probably dreamed up a little courtroom fantasy. I couldn’t contemplate the other scenario, where I’d totally misjudged my best friend and would strangle her for messing with her marriage.
After a coffee, I scanned the weekend papers. An article on page three caught my eye. Cameron Lovell had jetted into town for his upcoming nuptials, the same ones I’d been helping coordinate. Though I’d never met the guy I’d seen his picture a few times and hadn’t been all that impressed. In this photo, a half-blurred profile shot, he looked like a typical businessman: short back and sides, rimless specs, permanent frown, briefcase in hand.
Some of the girls at the office said he was a hottie—personally, I couldn’t see the attraction. And funnily enough, I couldn’t imagine Amanda going for someone like him either. He looked too boring, too staid, though the guy’s billions probably worked like an aphrodisiac.
Folding the newspaper in half, I made a decision. Seeing the article on Lovell’s pending nuptials prompted me to think of the pile of work waiting on my desk. Last week had been a bust productivity-wise as it took me five days to recover from the James debacle. And I had three weddings coming up over the next two weeks with a stack of unfinished details waiting for my attention.
So, feeling like a total loser, I headed into work on a Saturday. A few other foolhardy souls were scattered through the office as I snuck in, sat behind my desk and switched on the computer.
A quick scan of my emails elicited nothing more interesting than a couple of crude jokes I’d seen before. Facebook had the usual weird animal pics with slogans. Twitter was abuzz with the latest football draftee being caught peeing in public.
Plum out of procrastination tools, I’d have to work. I dragged the Lovell-Shaw file across the desk and flipped it open, scanned the contents, making brief notes on Post-its for last minute essentials.
The guest list looked like a who’s-who of the celebrity world. That’s what happened when the bride owned the runways from Milan to New York and the groom had more money than he knew what to do with.
Engrossed in table settings for five hundred guests, I didn’t hear anyone enter the office until someone cleared their throat about two feet away from me.
“Yeah?”
My abrupt ‘what can I do for you?’ didn’t make it past my lips as the darkest eyes I’d ever seen fixed on me with a penetrating stare that left me pinned like an amoeba under a microscope.
“Hi. Cameron Lovell. I came past on the off chance someone would be working today and here you are.” He smiled and I learned what the attraction was besides his millions. He had a great smile. Potent. “I admire weekend diligence. You should come work for me.”
Bet that would go down a treat with Amanda. Me ditching her for her ex.
I closed his file. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lovell?”
“Call me Cam.”
“I’m Jazmyn. Is there something you wanted?”
He ran a hand through his hair, an uncertain gesture that surprised me. Rich guys were never tentative. They had confidence to burn yet Cameron appeared rattled.
“Could we get out of here and discuss it over coffee?”
He glanced over his shoulder twice, as if he expected to be waylaid by Amanda at any moment.
I should’ve shooed him into my cubicle and made him spill. But it was a beautiful spring day in Sydney, it was Saturday and my curiosity was piqued. Besides, I had to ensure this wedding went off without a hitch and if there were some kind of problem, Amanda would kill me if I didn’t work it through before the big day.
“There’s a Starbucks on the corner?”
“Perfect. Lead the way.”
I picked up my handbag and stood, prickles of unease raising the fine hairs on my
The inquisition would have to wait. It figured Lachlan was a work acquaintance and he’d probably dreamed up a little courtroom fantasy. I couldn’t contemplate the other scenario, where I’d totally misjudged my best friend and would strangle her for messing with her marriage.
After a coffee, I scanned the weekend papers. An article on page three caught my eye. Cameron Lovell had jetted into town for his upcoming nuptials, the same ones I’d been helping coordinate. Though I’d never met the guy I’d seen his picture a few times and hadn’t been all that impressed. In this photo, a half-blurred profile shot, he looked like a typical businessman: short back and sides, rimless specs, permanent frown, briefcase in hand.
Some of the girls at the office said he was a hottie—personally, I couldn’t see the attraction. And funnily enough, I couldn’t imagine Amanda going for someone like him either. He looked too boring, too staid, though the guy’s billions probably worked like an aphrodisiac.
Folding the newspaper in half, I made a decision. Seeing the article on Lovell’s pending nuptials prompted me to think of the pile of work waiting on my desk. Last week had been a bust productivity-wise as it took me five days to recover from the James debacle. And I had three weddings coming up over the next two weeks with a stack of unfinished details waiting for my attention.
So, feeling like a total loser, I headed into work on a Saturday. A few other foolhardy souls were scattered through the office as I snuck in, sat behind my desk and switched on the computer.
A quick scan of my emails elicited nothing more interesting than a couple of crude jokes I’d seen before. Facebook had the usual weird animal pics with slogans. Twitter was abuzz with the latest football draftee being caught peeing in public.
Plum out of procrastination tools, I’d have to work. I dragged the Lovell-Shaw file across the desk and flipped it open, scanned the contents, making brief notes on Post-its for last minute essentials.
The guest list looked like a who’s-who of the celebrity world. That’s what happened when the bride owned the runways from Milan to New York and the groom had more money than he knew what to do with.
Engrossed in table settings for five hundred guests, I didn’t hear anyone enter the office until someone cleared their throat about two feet away from me.
“Yeah?”
My abrupt ‘what can I do for you?’ didn’t make it past my lips as the darkest eyes I’d ever seen fixed on me with a penetrating stare that left me pinned like an amoeba under a microscope.
“Hi. Cameron Lovell. I came past on the off chance someone would be working today and here you are.” He smiled and I learned what the attraction was besides his millions. He had a great smile. Potent. “I admire weekend diligence. You should come work for me.”
Bet that would go down a treat with Amanda. Me ditching her for her ex.
I closed his file. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lovell?”
“Call me Cam.”
“I’m Jazmyn. Is there something you wanted?”
He ran a hand through his hair, an uncertain gesture that surprised me. Rich guys were never tentative. They had confidence to burn yet Cameron appeared rattled.
“Could we get out of here and discuss it over coffee?”
He glanced over his shoulder twice, as if he expected to be waylaid by Amanda at any moment.
I should’ve shooed him into my cubicle and made him spill. But it was a beautiful spring day in Sydney, it was Saturday and my curiosity was piqued. Besides, I had to ensure this wedding went off without a hitch and if there were some kind of problem, Amanda would kill me if I didn’t work it through before the big day.
“There’s a Starbucks on the corner?”
“Perfect. Lead the way.”
I picked up my handbag and stood, prickles of unease raising the fine hairs on my
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