Page 10 of Worth the Wait
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.
