“Yeah, s—”
“I’m sorry. I have to run; we’re leaving for the airport. Thanks again!” Click.
~ ~ ~
Dom had hung up so quickly that he didn’t catch Pauline sputtering as she deflated and sank into the chair.
Chapter 7
Later that afternoon at Moffitt & Hall, the phone rang at the reception desk. “Good afternoon, Moffitt & Hall,” Sara, the front desk receptionist, answered in her sweetest phone voice.
“Good afternoon,” the woman’s voice on the other end of the line said. “This is Pauline Monroe, Dominic Moretti’s personal assistant. I’m calling to confirm our appointment with Kyle Newman for tomorrow at 1:00 p.m.”
“One moment,” said Sara. “Let me pull up Mr. Newman’s calendar.” The line was silent as Sara clicked into their shared scheduling software. “Yes, I show Mr. Moretti on his calendar in the North conference room. Is there a problem with the time?”
“No, no. Thank you for checking. One more thing. Is Callista Stockton available?”
“She’s working remotely today, and it looks like she’s currently on a call. I can either take a message or forward you to her voice mail.”
“Wonderful. I can leave a message.” Pauline paused. “Actually, can you check her calendar too? Mr. Moretti wishes to meet with her tomorrow—after his meeting with Mr. Newman?”
“Of course, but are you aware that her name has changed?”
“No, I wasn’t,” said Pauline with a lilting voice. “Did she just get married? How exciting.”
“Oh.” Sara’s face fell as she belatedly realized she shouldn’t have brought that up. “No, it’s just a legal name change,” she stammered. “Anyway, her last name is now Lindley. Can you communicate that to Mr. Moretti?”
“I can. Thank you. I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“Sara Bishop.”
“Well, Sara. You’ve been most helpful. Thank you.” The phone went dead.
Chapter 8
Dom
Dom had always been a morning person, and the morning after returning, he sprang from his bed and went to his sink to shave. After filming a new episode of The Dinner Shark, he’d caught a flight back from San Francisco. Today, it was time to return to his restaurant manager’s persona, clean-shaven Nic Moore. The trip had gone off without a hitch, and after his workout this morning, he and Joe would review the investment with Kyle at one, then he’d have coffee alone with Callista Stockton after. According to his calendar, Pauline had been able to arrange that. It still niggled at him that he hadn’t even talked to this woman, but he couldn’t get his mind off of her.
He put those thoughts aside, dressed, and went to his kitchen to prepare his protein shake with a healthy infusion of berries—a perfectly balanced breakfast that was easy to make and provided the energy necessary for the Team Conditioning class. He sipped and scrolled through the news on his phone. After some time, a calendar reminder for his workout flashed across the top of the screen. Dom grabbed his bag and called the elevator.
When Dom arrived at the gym, Joe and his very pregnant wife met him at the front desk. Dom went over and kissed her on the cheek. “Bets, you look lovely,” he said.
She laughed. “I look like a blimp.”
Joe grinned knowingly and nodded at Dom.
Dom ignored him, trying to not think of his friend’s strange desires, and said to Betsy, “Are you here for the aqua class?”
“Nah,” she said. “Thought I’d join you and Joe.” Her face was deadpan.
He and Joe were scheduled for a class with the fitness coach, Trish, who had been nicknamed Beast Lady for her grueling classes. Dom peaked his brows, but her face split into a large smile.
Joe kissed her temple.
“I’m joking,” she said and walked past reception toward the pool, then stopped and called back, “Though it might convince Little Joe here”—she rubbed her belly—“to come quicker. You boys have a good workout.”
Joe issued a low groan and turned toward the locker room. Dom rolled his eyes. They dropped their bags in the normal lockers, each grabbed a towel, and returned to the gym where class was scheduled. As they crossed to the far side, Dom took inventory of the attendees and jolted at the sight of two new students. He halted mid-step, flashing back to a week ago at Moretti’s. One was the boisterous blonde who’d done all the talking and the other one, stretching her calves, was Callista Stockton.
Calli
Calli shifted her weight from one foot to the other and hugged herself, rubbing her bare arms. It was cold in the gym for now, though she knew it’d heat up as soon as she started to move. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been to the gym. Apparently, her running shoes had also gone into hibernation. So she’d gone last night and purchased new Brooks in hopes that she would save her arches and shins, or at least ease their stress as she jumped directly into this crazy workout regimen. She still couldn’t fathom why she’d let Jordan commit her to six weeks of torture.
“Jordan,” she said, “couldn’t you have signed us up for one of the easier classes?”
“You’ll be fine,” she said, as bubbly as ever as she tied her blonde curls into a messy topknot and slipped on a headband.
“I’ll be in pain is what I’ll be.” Calli took a drink of water and stretched her calves. She remembered the routine; warm-up would likely be a mile-long run. She took deep breaths trying to pre-oxygenate her muscles, doubtful though that it would help.
As she came out of the stretch, she saw Jordan’s jaw hung open, her eyes wide. She tugged on Calli’s arm. “The restaurant manager from Moretti’s is here.”
Calli started to turn, but Jordan held her and snapped in a whisper, “Don’t look. He’s staring this way.”
“That’s ridiculous, Jordan.” Calli turned and locked stares with his green-gray eyes. She didn’t giggle this time but felt heat rise in her cheeks under the pressure of his stare.
He gave a lopsided smile and followed the other man toward the class. His friend stopped to talk with another student, but he wrapped the towel around the back of his neck and came right toward Calli. “Hi, again,” he said.
“Good morning. Nic, right?” Calli said.
“I’m surprised you remember.” He stood a little too close, and it was suddenly not so cold in the gym even though the workout hadn’t started. “You were in a state of hilarity at the restaurant,” he said.
Calli’s face burned. Words had left her brain.
“Yes, I’m Nic.” He held out a hand. “I didn’t catch your name though.”
“Calli.” She wiped her hand on her towel and slid it into his warm hand. The temperature difference made her small hand feel like ice inside his strong grip. Calli pulled back, shifting her eyes shyly from his, down, and back to Jordan who smiled broadly with her arms folded across her chest.
Music started—loud and blaring—and the fitness coach called everyone over. Calli breathed a sigh of relief for the reprieve from the awkward situation. Time to focus, she thought. One step at a time. You can do this, Calli.