Page 72 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
“How do you know that she is?”
“I guess time will tell.”
“I guess so.”
Liv glanced between them, unsure whether to stay or leave. She really didn’t want to stay and have Liam feel obliged to ask her out, now that George had virtually forced his hand. And she didn’t want to leave and be accosted by Camilla again. But at least if Camilla was talking at Liv, she wasn’t talking to Liam. Although that made her sound as petty as a seventh grader.
“Well, this looks amazing. I can’t wait to see it when it’s all ready.” Which reminded her. She needed to see what pictures Drew had taken, and whether any were potentials for postcards and the like. “I need to go.”
“Yeah, go relax, that’s what you need to do,” George called.
Liv shook her head, her gaze meeting Liam’s for a fraction of a second, before heat in her cheeks demanded she close the door before she could be embarrassed any further.
A shout of laughter slowed her steps across the courtyard. Who? In the short time that she’d been in the gift shop the rain had ceased. The cobblestones were still slippery underfoot, so she picked her way carefully around the garaged cars to the summerhouse on the northern side of the parterre garden. Then paused.
There, sitting on the stone edge of the rain-filled fountain, posed Camilla. Drew had his camera out, crouching down to get an angle.
Her heart sank. Wasn’t he supposed to be taking photos of the house? Had he finished already? Or had Camilla the Man Eater tried to gobble him up too?
“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself. Then strode across the path, dodging puddles as she approached them.
The crunch of gravel must’ve drawn their attention, as they turned. Camilla’s face fell. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Olivia.” Drew straightened, looking a little shamefaced.
She nodded to Camilla then fixed her gaze on the photographer. “I was just coming to find you. I’m guessing you must have some good photos now. Are you ready to show me some?”
“He’s been taking some great photos just now.” Camilla winked at him.
Drew blushed. Poor lad. They must be of a similar age, but Camilla seemed light-years ahead of him in regard to flirtation.
“Drew? Can you please show me your pictures of the house?”
“Um, sure.”
She fake smiled at Camilla. “You’ll have to excuse us.” She looked at Drew. “Let’s go back to my office.”
“The trustees’ office,” Camilla snarked.
“Let’s go.” She marched away, not checking to see if Drew followed. If he wanted this job, he’d better learn who he should be trying to please. And if he didn’t, well, that was better to know up front too.
She entered the house—a few murmurs suggested that some visitors had braved the wet—and reentered the office. Only to pause. Something was different. But what?
Then she realized. And wanted to scream. All that hard work—gone! Her fingers clenched, and she drew closer to the desk.
The desk where all her brightly coloured sticky notes had disappeared.
His phone buzzed. “I need you. Office. Now.”
His head jerked against the table. Liv needed him?
“You all right?” George asked.
He rubbed his head and stood. “Liv wants me.”
“Of course she does.” George winked.
His cheeks warmed. “Don’t start that again. No, she’s just asked me to come to the office.”
