thong? Did you take it?’
He found it where he’d dropped it—behind the bathroom door—and tossed the underwear towards her.
‘I’d be happy for you to add it to your collection, but it’s my favourite,’ she called as he stormed out and slammed her front door so hard that the earth tilted off its axis and, Maddie was quite certain, set off an earthquake somewhere in the South Pacific.
BlackBerry Messaging: 16.15.
Cale Grant: Just thought I’d let you know that you’re the first woman I’ve killed in 3 months.
Maddie: What? Standing here watching my bride walk down the aisle. Pretty sure I’m still alive.
Cale Grant: Kissed, not killed! Can’t get used to this new phone. Thought you should know that since you think I’m a man slut. Just clearing the air…
Maddie: Seriously? So, if you haven’t kissed/killed anyone, then you haven’t…? How long since you… you know?
Cale Grant: Not answering that.
Maddie: Curious. Can I still call you Slick?
Cale Grant: You’re laughing, aren’t you?
Maddie: MAO. So… are you waiting for an apology?
Cale Grant: Would you give me one? Anyway, just wanted to clear the air. Now going for a long, long run, followed by a cold, cold shower… unless you’re offering alternative entertainment?
Maddie: Nope.
Cale Grant: Damn.
‘Maddie? Are you there?”
Maddie, perched on a ladder helping her crew drape a tent, mobile to her ear, mentally shook herself and concentrated on the low drawl. Finally putting a name to the voice, her lips curved in pleasure as she recognised a rival co-ordinator.
‘Dennis King, what do you need? An ice sculptor? A Roman set? Some advice?’
Although they were officially competitors, they both recognised the value of maintaining a cordial, friendly relationship. Who else but another event co-ordinator would know the name of an ice sculptor at two in the morning? Who else would understand? From who else could you borrow a cream tent, supplement chair covers, or get a new source of blue roses?
‘Hey, sweetie, you’re good, but I doubt that even you can express a Roman set to the Big Apple.’
‘You’re in New York? What are you doing there?’
‘Got a job at Bower & Co.’
Maddie nearly swallowed a pin. How on earth had he landed a job with one of the most respected PR and eventing firms in the world? And why hadn’t she heard about it?
‘That’s actually why I’m calling you.’
Maddie removed the pins from her mouth.
‘Sorry?’
‘They’ve got an opening for an events co-ordi-nator and I thought of you.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘Because I could use a friendly face here, we get along well and you already work the long hours that are standard over here. What do you think?’
Maddie sat down on the ladder and rubbed her eyes. ‘Wow, Dennis. Wow. I’m not sure what to say.’
‘Say you’ll think about it. I’ve been dropping your name at every opportunity I get. In the meantime, e-mail me your CV.’
‘I’ll think about it. New York?’
‘Manhattan, baby. Big money. Big kudos,’ Dennis replied. ‘E-mail me your CV. Later.’
Maddie looked down at her dead mobile and pinched the bridge of her nose. She carefully sat down and rested her head on her knees. New York City.
This was so exciting—a career move of stratospheric proportions. Bower & Co tendered for opening ceremonies at sporting events, Hollywood première parties and political balls. They were solidly big league…
She couldn’t wait to tell… Cale?
Maddie huffed a breath. Why did her thoughts instinctively veer to him? He’d just dropped back into her life, she wasn’t even sleeping with him, and they’d shared no more than a couple of conversations. You ‘re being an idiot, she told herself. He shouldn’t even be a blip on her radar.
But he was, and he was blipping far too often for her physical and, more frightening, her emotional comfort. You ‘re just out of practice, Maddie assured herself. Allowing your imagination to run away with you. You’re—eek!—sexually frustrated and easily confused
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