My Wanderlust Bites the Dust Page 5

  “You should have woken me up earlier,” I said. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

  “We both needed sleep.” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand—5:00 a.m. “Besides, I want to make love when we can sleep in and I’m not running to catch a plane and you might have to catch a cricket.”

  True. Having sex for the first time carried enough pressure without the crazy work stress. And it felt reassuring that Declan no longer had a love ’em and leave ’em attitude.

  He traced a finger down my cheek, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

  “I need to go. Couldn’t get a nonstop, so I have a connector in Frankfurt.”

  Flights never canceled when you wanted them to.

  I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed.

  I removed a pink envelope from the desk drawer and handed it to Declan. “Happy Valentine’s Day. But open it later.”

  Declan let out a frustrated groan. “Shite. I never remember cards.”

  “Good. At least I got you something you didn’t get me.”

  He wrapped me in his arms and kissed me senseless. Like he wouldn’t be kissing me again for four weeks…

  Stay strong!

  He rested his forehead against mine, staring deep into my eyes. “Love you.”

  I swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat. “Love you too.”

  He stepped backward down the hallway, blowing me kisses, which I caught and placed against my lips. He smiled. I managed a feeble smile until he disappeared inside the elevator. I wanted to run after him. To jet off to Florence so we could spend our days visiting museums and eating gelato and our evenings making love…

  I had to determine what lingering Andy issue was causing my stomach problems. I’d go straight to see Martha when I returned home. Reaching out to the women’s counselor was a sign of strength, not weakness, as I’d once thought. Andy had taken a lot from me.

  No way was he taking Declan.

  I shut the door and collapsed against it, tears warming my cheeks. I peered over at Declan’s sketch of me propped up against the lamp. He’d captured the smile in my eyes as well as on my lips. And my hair looked way better than I was sure it had. Wisps appeared to be blowing delicately against my cheeks, not whipping my face. Lights from Prague Castle twinkled behind me. I was going to hang it on my bedroom wall next to Declan’s painting, which his mom had given me at Christmas.

  I wiped away my tears and inhaled a calming breath. I couldn’t allow myself to fall into a funk, devouring cans of chocolate frosting and not showering for days. Luckily, I was in Prague working, so I had a reason to get out of bed, or I’d be crawling back into it.

  Besides needing a purpose in life, and money, seeing Declan was one of the main reasons I’d stuck with this job when I despised flying and was looking for a full-time one in Milwaukee. Meeting up with Declan in exotic locales had sounded romantic but was proving more difficult than I’d imagined. If we didn’t work the same meetings, when were we going to see each other? Call me needy, but one night in six weeks wasn’t enough.

  We had to work more meetings together.

  I’d submitted résumés to his clients, but I needed to touch base and let them know I had availability, without sounding desperate. Specifically, the dates and destinations Declan was working. I also had to make the most of our time together and not have a meltdown over capturing a stupid cricket. So much of this job was out of my control. However, I had control over how I reacted to situations. Giving Mr. Gauthier my key undoubtedly wouldn’t be my last mishap. When I got frazzled, I made stupid mistakes. I’d only seen Rachel melt down under pressure once, which had led to us reconnecting after we’d grown apart, thanks to my ex and Rachel’s demanding job. Yet keeping stress bottled up inside was causing her kidney problems.

  I needed to actually be calm, not just look it.

  I had to learn to balance my professional and personal lives. Besides needing to spend more time with Declan, I couldn’t let my entire personal routine go to hell every time I traveled for work. I’d never had to sacrifice one for the other before. In college, I’d worked a no-brainer job as an elf during my Christmas breaks. My first “real” job was an admin assistant. It hadn’t put a lot of demands on my time, which was good because Andy’s demands were all I could handle. The biggest stress at that job was when he’d stalked me, making me a basket case and getting me fired.

  Declan was the only planner I knew who handled the job in stride. Working this meeting with experienced staff would provide me with the perfect opportunity to learn how to manage the job and personal life from pros. No matter what obstacles were thrown at me today, I was going to remain Zen. Nobody was going to die if I gave a VIP my room key by mistake. Maybe I wouldn’t even get fired over it.

  I didn’t want to lose my job, sanity, and especially not Declan.

  A text alert shrilled. Declan.

  Gretchen was out running and saw me get into a taxi.

  As if that skinny bitch needed to run more!

  Now, she was really going to make my life a living hell!

  Deep breath. Stay Zen…

  And stay away from Gretchen as much as possible today.

  Chapter Seven

  I did yoga breathing as I walked into the office a half hour before my start time, enabling me to ease into the day and not have to hit the ground running. Courtney was at the back table, facing the wall and her computer. She and Rita were cross-checking a report against a stack of printed name badges. Courtney ripped up a badge, her hand hitting a can of Red Bull, sending it flying across the room.

  Blair rolled her dark eyes, then focused back on her computer.

  Courtney looked ready to go off the deep end.

  I raced over and reached down for the can, flinching at the shooting pain in my bruised shoulder. I snatched up the can. “I’ll wipe it up.” Luckily, the gold splatters matched the carpet color.

  Courtney’s expression relaxed slightly. “Thanks.”

  Our first conversation.

  She returned to her task, and I used a gold linen napkin to soak up the spill.

  I sat next to Gretchen, who was slashing red lines through the typed remarks on the revised event orders. My body tensed, causing my shoulder to throb. I massaged it. The office was not conducive to my Zen plan for today.

  What if Gretchen confronted me about Declan? Or told Blair that I’d breached my contract by having him as an overnight guest? No, if she got me kicked off the program, she’d lose her support. As if I’d been much support.

  I needed to make myself indispensable so Gretchen wouldn’t want me fired from the meeting.

  Good luck with that.

  I set my computer bag on the desk, acting like nothing had happened. Gretchen’s brow furrowed, her top lip twisted into a faint sneer. She looked the same as usual.

  Maybe she’d gotten over Declan. Maybe she and Chad were now an item and she’d moved on. Maybe my debt had disappeared overnight and the government had forgiven my student loans…

  Rather than flashing Gretchen a victorious grin, as she would undoubtedly do to me, I gave her a pleasant good morning.

  She managed a strained smile. “Good morning.”

  A name badge sat on my desk. A plastic holder contained a paper badge with my name in black typeface and was clipped to a pink lanyard. This was my first meeting requiring a badge.

  A text chimed on my phone. I opened it and smiled at a photo of Zoe, my dog Mr. MacCool, and her cat Quigley in matching red knitted sweaters with a candy heart across the front of each. Zoe’s read Love. Mr. MacCool’s read Pet Me. Quigley’s read Bite Me. Zoe, her grandma, and her aunt had a cottage industry, selling knitted animal apparel.

  I’d won Mr. MacCool in Dublin at Christmas thanks to Bernice and Gracie entering me in a contest. Unable to easily bring a dog back to the States, Zoe had offered to adopt him. Yet I still thought of him as my dog. I’d named him after Finn MacCool, the kick-ass hunter-warrior in Irish mythology. Legend had it
he’d built the Giant’s Causeway as stepping-stones to Scotland to battle a rival giant. And he’d once scooped up part of Ireland to fling it at an enemy, but it landed in the Irish Sea and became known as the Isle of Man.

  I missed Zoe, Ireland, a dog I’d never met, and even antisocial Quigley. If I started losing my Zen today, I’d imagine myself in a matching sweater, curled up on the couch with Mr. MacCool in Zoe’s parents’ living room. The earthy scent of peat from their green cast-iron stove filled my head along with thoughts of Zoe and me chatting about Declan sketching my portrait.

  I thanked Zoe and attached a pic I’d taken of the sketch.

  The difficult part about being friends with Declan’s sister was deciding what to share. I didn’t want him to think I was always blabbing stuff to Zoe. Yet whenever possible, I tried to give Zoe and her mom hope that Declan was on the emotional road to recovery from Shauna’s death.

  Moments later a text popped up filled with smiley faces, hearts, and sheep. I let out a faint laugh.

  Gretchen shot me an annoyed look.

  Not wanting to alienate her any more than I already had today, I headed toward the breakfast room on the other side of the air wall. Blair was typing away and didn’t even acknowledge me as I escaped past her desk. Mindy and Chad were just sitting down to breakfast. I gave them a wave and went through the buffet. Part of balancing my lifestyle was making healthier eating choices. No desserts, comfort foods, or wine. Well, maybe less wine, since I needed something to look forward to after this day. It was easy to overeat when all the food was prepared by a chef and I hated cooking. I took a scoop of eggs for protein but skipped the sausage and greasy bacon. I spooned yogurt into a bowl and added fresh berries. I put two teabags in a cup of hot water, allowing myself one cup of caffeine. I couldn’t get too crazy.

  I joined Chad and Mindy at a table draped in a red linen with a red rose in a glass vase in honor of the romantic holiday. Chad’s pink-and-red striped tie was flipped up across his shoulder to avoid food stains. Mindy had on a pair of pink crystal earrings once again matching her lipstick. Her pink clipboard sat on the table beside her. Was she this color coordinated for every client? Her professionalism and organization reminded me of Rachel.

  “Love your earrings,” I said.

  “Thanks. The gift shop has them in every color. They’re big here. And thanks so much for taking care of Mr. Gauthier’s ‘challenge.’” She made air quotes, imitating Blair. “Catching his cricket.”

  Chad rolled his eyes. “The guy can’t catch his own cricket?”

  Mindy shook her head. “It wasn’t even a cricket. It was a sound machine. It’s crazy there aren’t two staff working VIPs.”

  There weren’t? I’d been helping out with VIPs way more than food and beverage.

  I smiled. “No problem. What’d you guys do last night?”

  “I had a FaceTime dinner with my hubby,” Mindy said. “That’s how we’ve celebrated Valentine’s Day the past four years. This meeting always falls on the same dates, and I didn’t know what time I’d get off tonight. But it’d be worse to miss Christmas.”

  Chad nodded, glancing up from his cell. “I spent New Year’s Eve flying over the Atlantic this year, the Pacific last year.”

  What a depressing time to be alone. I’d had to fly home alone from Ireland at Christmas, but at least I’d spent the morning with Declan and that night with my family.

  “How many days a year are you guys gone?” I asked.

  “A hundred and forty-eight last year,” Mindy said. “But I just dropped a client. Found out some new guy was taking groups to Tuscany while I was in Dallas cleaning hair from shower drains in suites. I worked three back-to-back meetings for that ungrateful witch last fall. Had three suitcases packed before I left and twelve hours at home between trips.”

  I wouldn’t have enough undies to pack for three trips.

  Chad nodded in understanding. “I usually travel two hundred days a year but just lost a client with five annual meetings.”

  “How are you going to make your house payment?” Mindy peered over at me. “He’s got an incredible house on Laguna Beach. Yet he’s rarely home.”

  “It’ll be my retirement home. Although, I’ll never retire if any more clients do. You spend years building relationships, and then a new planner comes in with her own team.”

  I couldn’t decide if it made me feel better or worse that even experienced contractors had to find new clients and didn’t know what the next year would bring. I certainly couldn’t ask either of these guys to recommend clients. They wouldn’t take the chance of losing work right now. I’d reached out to Declan’s clients again before coming down. Fingers crossed. I should ask Rachel for some contacts. She seemed to have more faith in my abilities now, having me work at her office last month to help with Flanagan’s February meeting. Yet she hadn’t offered to give me referrals.

  “At least Blair just contracted us for that Monte Carlo incentive.” Mindy was spreading peanut butter on an English muffin, so she didn’t notice the fleeting look of surprise on Chad’s face.

  “Ah, I was already booked so won’t be doing it,” he said.

  Mindy glanced over at me. “She still needs staff and sounded like she’s going to ask you. It’d be mid-May.”

  “Wonderful.”

  I was available, of course, and Declan would be nearby in Geneva at that time. I’d extend a few days to see him. We’d also planned to meet up in Chicago for a long weekend in April. He had a bazillion frequent flyer miles. The thought of seeing each other four months in a row made our being apart now a bit more bearable.

  Rita dropped down in a chair next to me with a plateful of bacon and a Diet Coke. She rubbed her temples. “Found ten more attendees that were deleted from the database. The hotel is almost sold out. Registration is going to be a bloody nightmare. Good thing it’s only two hundred people.”

  “Only two hundred?” I said.

  Rita gazed at me over the top of the red glasses on the tip of her nose. “I just got off a fifteen-hundred-person sales meeting, and my next one is two waves of five hundred.” She devoured several strips of bacon.

  My heart raced at the thought of that many attendees.

  Chimes rang out. I was going for a more Zen tone on my phone. It was a text from Gretchen. Seriously? Why hadn’t she just poked her head in from next door?

  Need to get product to VIP meeting.

  “I gotta go.” I snagged a bagel off the buffet and stashed it in my purse. So much for cutting carbs.

  But I was still determined to cut my stress…

  * * *

  Only ten VIPs were going to be attending the sampling meeting. As if Gretchen needed my help carrying a small box containing product and the checklist. Did she plan to get me alone so she could corner me about Declan? Or lock me in a meeting room on the windowless lower level? My upper lip started to sweat as we walked in silence down a narrow hallway with red-and-gold patterned carpeting. I wanted to confront her about having seen Declan, but I wasn’t sure if that would ease the tension or make it worse. And every time I blurted out something, it seemed to be a mistake.

  However, when I’d blurted out Shauna’s name at Christmas, it had forced Declan to eventually confront his feelings, even though it had been totally awkward at the time.

  The small boardroom contained a massive wooden table surrounded with gold leather executive chairs rather than the standard black ones. I set an individual silver-packaged product marked NOC List—its Mission Impossible codename—by each china plate while Gretchen checked it off. Not knowing what was inside the plain wrapper made me want to rip it open and sneak a peek.

  Gretchen had me stash two extra products under a skirted table.

  “Wait here until Ted with security comes,” she said.

  “When will that be?”

  She gave me an exasperated look. “When he gets here.”

  Was she sticking me in the dungeon because of Declan?

  “
Sounds good,” I chirped, needing to be perky and supportive, even if it killed me.

  “Don’t forget to tell Ted the extra product is under the table or shit will hit the fan.” She strutted off.

  They acted like one bite of these new desserts was going to enable a person to miraculously drop ten pounds.

  A half hour later, I’d counted seventy-eight red swirls, fifty gold swooshes, and thirty gold circles in the patterned carpet. My vertigo was kicking in.

  My phone chimed. An e-mail from George Wood.

  Dear Ms. Shaw,

  My coming to Prague to meet is no trouble. Please confirm if the night after tomorrow might suit you.

  Kind regards,

  George Wood

  Apparently, he wasn’t interested in meeting up in Ireland next month. I decided to Google the man, still going on the assumption that he lived in England. It turned out there were over two hundred George Woods in the UK. I’d tell him to meet me in the busy bar next to the hotel.

  I was preparing to count the white ceiling tiles when Ted, the security guy, arrived. He was mid-forties, wearing a dark suit and a serious look. He reminded me of a guard at Buckingham Palace, where you wanted to wave a hand in front of his face to try and make him blink or crack a smile. He had on a Bluetooth earbud. He was taking this whole Mission Impossible thing very seriously. I advised him of the stashed product.

  His gaze narrowed on the front of my jacket. “Where’s your name badge?”

  “Oh, it’s on my desk.”

  “You need to wear it at all times.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m not used to wearing one.”

  He arched a curious brow.

  Never having worn a name badge flagged me as a newbie. Not something I wanted known.

  “I usually wear a magnetic one engraved with my name.” Like the hotel staff. I couldn’t believe I’d just lied to security. It was more of a fib.

  “And my team needs to be notified if an attendee loses a badge so we can keep an eye out for the name and make sure nobody unauthorized tries to use it to gain access to a room.”