Page 79 of The Rented Bride
Her heart jumped into a wild tattoo. She stepped close and whispered, “You can’t say that here—and I don’t believe you, anyway. What are you really doing here?”
“I told you I had an office here in Miami. I took care of some business, and thought I’d stay overnight, then fly you back with me tomorrow.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble,” she said.
He chuckled. “One of the perks to owning a jet. Flying a beautiful woman around is never any trouble.” He lifted a finger signaling one of the servers carrying a tray of champagne and took two glasses when the waiter stopped. Trent handed one to her and said, “Plus, with all you’ve told me about this wedding, I wanted to see how it all came together. You really are amazing.”
“Thank you. But should you have left James alone?” she asked.
“He threatened to come to Miami for you if I didn’t.”
“James knows I’m coming home tomorrow.” Home. She’d called Brettonwood home. Damn, she was falling into this role far too easily.
Trent nodded. “I know, but he told me that my new bride shouldn’t be forced to travel in coach.”
Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Now I know you’re lying.”
He laughed. “Well, not totally. He said that it was time I took care of my business in Miami. He had to mean you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re both nuts.”
“I’m serious.” He shrugged, eyes alight with mischief. “Those are his words. And he suggested we fly back home together tomorrow.”
Cassie shook her head.
“Truth is, Cassie, I suspect he wants to be sure our jobs aren’t keeping us apart.”
“Oh,” she said.
“I promised him I’d bring you home.” He sipped his champagne. His gaze lingered on her face then dipped lower.
Cassie warmed as he focused on the cultured rubies between her breasts. “They aren’t real.”
His gaze snapped to her eyes.
Open mouth, insert foot. “I mean the rubies aren’t real, the rest of me is.” Heat rushed into her cheeks. God, she was an idiot. Cassie tipped the champagne flute to her lips and took a big gulp.
“Two glasses of champagne in ten minutes. Watch it or you’ll get our girl buzzed.” Cassie groaned inwardly when Maryanne stepped between her and Trent. “Hi, I’m Maryanne.”
“Trent Weston.” He shook the hand she extended.
Cassie glimpsed the recognition that flickered in Maryanne’s eyes. “Mr. Trent Weston?” Her gaze shifted between Trent and Cassie. “You’re in Miami. You were so thrilled with the job Cassie did that you came here to thank her in person?”
“No, actually, I’m here on business.” His gaze shifted to Cassie. “If you have some time, I would like to discuss our current project.”
Maryanne’s brow pinched. “You didn’t mention another project.”
“It’s not what you think,” Cassie said, quick to assure her that she wasn’t planning her own projects outside of Daley. “It’s more of a personal project.”
Maryanne’s lips formed an O. “Then I’ll leave you to discuss whatever it is you need to discuss.” She winked at Cassie. “Besides, I know the bartender. Hope he’s still single.” She fluffed her red hair with her fingers. “He worked for me about a year ago.”
“What about mixing business with pleasure?” Cassie said.
Maryanne shrugged. “He doesn’t work for me anymore. Besides, this is your event, not mine.” She sauntered toward the bar.
“Maryanne Daley isn’t what I expected,” Trent said.
“She can be overwhelming.” And completely the opposite of Cassie. Maryanne wore more eyeliner and makeup than a drag queen. Eccentric might be too mild a word, but she was damn good at what she did. Cassie turned her attention to Trent. “We need to talk.” She headed to an empty table near the wall and away from the crowds. Trent followed. Nervous energy coiled in her gut. They reached the table and he held the chair out for her.
