Chapter 9

"Business proposition?" I place the dishes in the rack and turn around, backing up against the sink. He strolls towards the kitchen with his plate, with total relaxed swagger. He's really confident, I'll give him that.

"Aha, I knew that would get you interested. Care to hear more?"

I do. I need to know why he's back. He can't just show up out of the blue, discussing business with me without divulging what his situation is.

"Fine.But only if you tell me why you're back," I challenge quickly.

He raises an eyebrow, his face illegible. "I don't think so. Obviously, you're not interested enough."

"I'll put in a good word to Hansley."

"What do you mean?"

I'm having fun with this. "Well, I could either say you took me here when I was at my most vulnerable and looked after me. Or I could say you took me here when I was at my most vulnerable and messed with me." I can see a trace of panic across his face.

"You wouldn't dare." He knows how protective Hansley is of me, especially when it comes to guys like him.

"Obviously you don't remember me much."

Without warning he walks up to me, towering over me to put his dishes in the sink, leaning down slightly. That vanilla scent is there again, the same one from the sheets. The top of his singlet falls down and I get a glimpse of his toned chest with a generous smattering of hair on it. I can see that long scar on his sternum, which he got when he and Hansley were playing with a metal sheet when he was sixteen.

My face goes warm at his close proximity. Instantly, an odd shiver runs through me. Strange, it must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. I've known him my whole life but this feels completely new, this dynamic brewing between us and I can tell he feels the same way. He's so close, his face just inches from mine.

He's gazing at me, concentrating hard on my expression and I hear his breathing hitch. Why is he having this effect on me? I don't understand it."What do you want to know?" he asks. That low rumble does something to my insides.

"Everything." His nostrils flare loudly and he stares at me, dark eyes blazing. I almost forgot that in the light, his eyes have these gold flecks that make them almost hazel, it's nice.

"You play hard ball. Deal." He reaches out his hand. "Let's shake on it."

I offer my hand and he practically envelops mine with his like a baseball glove. Rough, warm and smooth all at once. His thumb strokes my knuckles, up and down, and I inhale swiftly at the sensation of his skin on mine. What's wrong with me, he's just shaking my hand.

"You have beautiful hands," he stares at me, intently, a soft expression on his face.

Before I get a chance to react he quickly releases his warm grasp and paces back a few steps. "We're going to need more coffee. Sit down on the couch," he dictates, turning around to head towards the fridge to grab the milk.

What was that? He was his usual self one minute, and abrupt the next. I make my way to sit in the middle of the spacious leather couch, curious to know what's going to happen next.

As he boils the kettle, he throws on a flannel green plaid shirt, which further enhances his muscular build. It's hypnotising; how he moves - it's fluid, effortless, and rugged all at the same time. He's like this hot lumberjack minus the beard, which is totally not what I usually find attractive at all. I like guys in pressed shirts, tailored trousers, and loafers.

Okay, I'll admit it. I've been checking him out all morning, despite my efforts not to. I think I get a concession for my situation, right? Tristan catches me staring at him and I quickly look down at my nails. Dammit. He comes back with two large mugs of coffee and sits close to me on the couch and I breathe quietly. Get yourself together, it's just Tristan.

Placing my mug on the table, he holds onto his.

"Before I go into the details, can I ask how you got into wedding planning? You were never the girly type growing up, more of a nerd actually." He lifts his feet on the couch and turns to face towards me.

"Oh my gosh, that was in high school! I've changed since then."

He glances over my black dress, his eyes lingering a bit longer where my décolletage sits. He's doing it again, looking at me like that. Is it just my imagination or is he checking me out? Surely not. "I suppose you have," he mumbles to himself.

"I was always a girly girl, what are you talking about? And I was so not a nerd."

"Keep telling yourself that. Your nose was always stuck in a book or a jigsaw puzzle," he recites it so quickly, like he knows it like the back of his hand.

"Not to mention a scrapbook, a journal, romance novels," ticking the list off my fingers, enjoying the banter. Hmm maybe he's right. Is it possible to be both?

He sneers, mocking contempt, "Sorry I asked."

"Anyway, do you want my answer or not? I'll give you the short version, it's rather girly."

His lips hint at a smile. "No, long version this time."

I reach forward and grab the mug of coffee, still too hot to drink. "It all started at Uni. Once upon a time, I worked at the frozen yoghurt shop down on Kent Street. I became really close with one of the girls, Amelia."

"You and Amelia eh" he raises his eyebrows in full interest as he takes a big sip of his coffee.

"Not like that!" I slap his foot gently. "So one day, she tells me her sister is getting married and they needed extra caterers. Cash strapped, I said yes, naturally." I pause to peek up at him. "Are you sure you want me to keep going?"

"Please," his voice cuts in with amused impatience.

"The wedding was beautiful; overlooking Rose Bay, about 60 guests. Anyway, I started talking to the Shirley, their wedding planner when she kept coming back for the salmon and mascarpone blini's. One thing led to another and before I know it she asked me to come to her office the next week."

A mischievous smirk appears on his face. "Ooh I like where this is going."

My belly flutters suddenly. Why am I feeling a secret thrill that he is imagining me in these situations?

"It was for an interview, you sicko!" I blow on the piping hot coffee, desperate to avoid his glance. Somehow he manages to make me feel right at home, and then hot and bothered the next. I didn't think that was possible, least with another man.

"She offered me a job to be her assistant. I was still in college, I didn't know where I was going. So I took it."

"Better than dumping toppings all day."

"She said she liked me because of my sass and spunk."

"I can see that. It definitely hasn't gone anywhere."

"And it's not going away anytime soon either," I smirk at him. "Hand on heart, I didn't expect to love planning weddings as much as I did. The run sheets, the in-laws, the chaos, even the bridezillas. It was a sweet surprise, for a girl who just went to college because it was expected of her. Things went quickly from there."

"It was a rapid ascension for you?"

"I became her partner. But when she passed." My face drops at the memory of Shirley's sudden heart attack at 42. "I decided to start my own practice."

"I'm sure she's proud of you. Thank you for telling me that story."

This is a sweet surprise. Adam always hated it when I talked about work, and always nodded quietly when it was obvious he was more interested in the television.

"It's sort of ironic, really."

"What is?"

"I never got the hype around big, fancy weddings. My parents got married on the beach with five of their closest friends and they are still as happy as ever. I used to think that big weddings were bogus. But then, I got to see it first hand for myself and how magical it all is. It really makes a difference in their lives, and suddenly I didn't feel right to judge them. Whatever they wanted wasn't ridiculous or silly because it was the way they wanted to celebrate their love. Every couple is different. They all have their own love story. My job is to just help them tell it, and" I pause trying to find the right word, "it's quite a privilege. I'm really lucky to do what I do."

He looks impressed as he strokes his lips. Either that or he's trying to process the long winded speech I just gave him.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't too corny, was it?" I squish my nose, cringing at my flowing tongue. I take a sip of the coffee and my heart races. It's even stronger than the first batch he made!

"No, not at all. You love what you do, and you work hard for it. I love your passion. Love of the job is why I went into event planning myself. It doesn't matter about how much you charge them, if you create the perfect day its"

"Priceless," I blurt out.

He looks at me appraisingly. "Precisely."

"I'm glad somebody gets it, Adam always thought"

"Adam is a fucking dumbass," he growls, his voice hostile.

"What?"

"Adam is a fucking dumbass, letting go of someone like you." His eyes blaze at me.

I laugh shyly, flattered by his sincerity. "I wasn't perfect either"

"Are you kidding me? If you were mine, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you." That low grumble emerges again, those whiskey coloured eyes stare at me heatedly. My heart races and I don't think it's the coffee. How can he be so sweet and so damn sexy at the same time? Oh my! Stop these ludicrous thoughts.

He quickly resumes a straight face.

"Ahem, what I meant was you didn't deserve to get hurt like that, Straight-laced," he adds tersely.

How does he do that? The way he looked at me just now, he made me feel like the only girl in the world. Then the very next second, he's back to his usual self and he's just that annoying boy who would come over every Friday night in that ugly, ratty hoodie.?It's unnerving.

He clears his throat, resuming a steely resolve. "Anyway, that business proposition I had for you. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, hit me!"

"Two words: Destination Weddings."

I raise an eyebrow, "Go on."

"I'm starting my own firm, and I want you to come work for me."

I nod gently, maintaining a deadpan expression to avoid giving anything away, "Why the change? You have an amazing job"

"Had. I quit."

"Why? Did you fool around with the boss's daughter?" I blurt out casually, laughing softly.

His eyes widen. "Perceptive one, you are."

Oh.

Oh.