Page 36 of Worth the Wait
“Complicated,” Cameron finishes, echoing my favorite word for whatever this thing between us has become.
“Very complicated.”
“But not going away.”
I look at him—really look at him—taking in his mussed hair and intense eyes and the way he’s looking at me like I’m the most important thing in his world.
“No,” I admit quietly. “It’s not going away.”
The cleaning crew’s voices get closer, and Cameron straightens his tie with movements that are almost normal.
“I should go,” he says, though he doesn’t sound like he wants to.
“Probably.”
“But Lianne?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m done pretending this isn’t real. I’m done avoiding what’s between us because it’s complicated.” His voice is firm, determined, every inch the alpha male who’s decided what he wants and isn’t going to let anything stand in his way. “Two weeks was long enough.”
Before I can respond, he’s walking toward my office door, leaving me standing by my desk with kiss-swollen lips and the lingering scent of his cologne and the absolute certainty that everything between us just changed.
Again.
12
Three daysafter kissing Lianne in her office and I’m struggling to listen to McNeal, Morgan, and Harrison Gordon as they discuss Sterling Industries’ expansion into renewable energy infrastructure over a business dinner.
Something about strategic partnership blah blah blah regulatory landscape blah blah blah and something about the real opportunity being in the emergency battery storage market.
Blah blah blah.
I nod anyway, making appropriate responses about market positioning and competitive advantages. It doesn’t hurt that I read their report before the meeting, but I know I have to at least be mentally present. This isn’t like me; in business settings, I’m known for my focus, for asking the questions that cut straight to the heart of what matters. I’ve closed billion-dollar deals because I never let personal distractions interfere with professional opportunities.
But nothing about my mental state has been normal since Lianne walked back into my life, since I showed up at her office three days ago.
Since I kissed her with the desperation of someone who’s been pretending I don’t want her. And it isn’t just me. She feels the same way, too.
So why aren’t we taking this further? Why are we letting fear win this round again?
“Cameron?” McNeal’s voice cuts through my distraction. “What do you think about the timeline for the Nevada project?”
“Sorry,” I say, refocusing on the conversation as I clear my throat. “Could you repeat the question?”
“The Nevada solar farm,” McNeal repeats patiently. “We’re looking at an eighteen-month development timeline, but that assumes no regulatory delays—and no policy reversals from Washington.”
“Eighteen months seems realistic if we front-load the permitting process,” I agree, though I’m already calculating how long eighteen months feels when measured against the weeks I’ve been trying to convince myself that what I feel for Lianne is just unfinished business from our past.
“Let’s review the timelines then,” McNeal, scribbling on his tablet though I’m no longer listening, my world tilting sideways the moment I catch sight of a familiar figure on the restaurant patio across the promenade.
Lianne.
She’s sitting at a table on the outdoor terrace of the Italian place directly across from us, separated only by the pedestrianwalkway that connects this cluster of upscale restaurants. The evening is warm enough that most establishments have their patios full, and I can see her clearly through the glass partition that separates our dining room from the promenade.
She’s with Maya Navarro—I recognize her from Declan’s social media posts. They appear to be finishing their meal, wine glasses nearly empty, the relaxed posture that comes at the end of a good dinner. Lianne looks beautiful in a black dress, laughing at something Maya has said with genuine amusement.
This is Lianne in her natural environment—not the polished event planner managing corporate celebrations, but the woman who enjoys good food and better company.
