Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (19 page)

Eventually, the hunt was over. Some eggs were chipped while others were smashed, but the baskets were mostly uninjured. We convened on the back veranda, and, after a fresh round of cocktails, Liam toasted the American tradition of the Easter egg hunt.

With his glass of dark beer raised high, he said, “For of all the customs and products exported by the Americans, this is one of the few the rest of the world really needs! No disrespect intended, of course.”

“Next year, we’ll have to add a few rules, I see,” said Mr. Clarkson with a smile on his face. While Ms. Clarkson had remained uninvolved, Mr. Clarkson had taken turns cheering each man on. He seemed positively pleased with the evolution of the hunt.

Because Jeff had been busy appeasing the wants of the three younger men, dinner was delayed by an hour. I waited in the great room at the back of the house with the rest while the three men changed for dinner. We sipped wine and watched the sun set. The orange, red, and purple light of the descending orb swirled on the ocean waves. The day was ending with the same perfection with which it had begun.

Once he returned, Liam poured himself a glass of red wine and sat beside me on the sofa. It was similar in style to the furniture in the sunroom, only more formal. The lingering light from the sky, the dark wooden floor, and the sumptuous fabrics blended to make an elegant, soothing space.

“Marvelous!” Liam declared, looking around the room.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” I remarked.

“What? No, I was talking about the hunt! It reminded me of Easter at home. That was as much fun as playing football with my brothers!” He laughed.

AFTER SHARING THE DETAILS
of my romance with Tiziana, she promptly called Marian, Hillary, and Kathleen, filling them in on the news. When I returned to the city, I turned my phone back on, only to be flooded with text messages and voicemails requesting details about Liam.

“Good Lord! He sounds GORGEOUS,” Marian said in the voicemail she left. “Jaysus, there aren’t any more of those types around here. I’ve looked high and low, and I swear they’re exporting themselves. I see more gorgeous Irishmen in other parts of the world than at home.” She asked for more personal details, as only Marian would.

When I eventually chatted with Hillary, she tried to maintain her usual reserved air as she inquired whether Liam had any siblings. I’d already ferreted out that two of his brothers were still up for grabs.

“
Hmmm
. After you’ve settled in, we really must invite Liam and his brothers to visit,” she regally intoned. Then, in a quick shift of tone, said, “Whatever you do, don’t invite Marian. She’ll be grabbing everyone’s bits and pieces. She’s rather envious.” Continuing on conspiratorially, she added, “She was all in an uproar about how you’ve met the sexiest man from Ireland when she lives there.”

“Too bad for her, thank god for me!” was my childish reply.

When I hadn’t heard from Kathleen, I learned from Marian that Kathleen was busy flirting with some distant member of the Danish Royal Family. “How in the world did she meet him?” I asked.

“Who knows? Kathleen has a nose for royalty. Kind of like one of those pigs that roots around, sniffing for truffles. She could sniff out royal blood from miles away. She really needs to go into therapy or have an exorcism. Only little girls dream about marrying princes. Prince Charming might exist, but chances are his crown is a bicycle helmet, his castle is a tiny flat, and his family jewels don’t reside in the Tower of London,” Marian joked.

It seemed that Tiziana hadn’t filled the girls in on my encounter with Des outside the nightclub, or at least they didn’t bring it up, for which I was glad. The conversations were about the present, and I was thrilled to have my circle of friends back, grateful to be surrounded by the warmth that filtered its way through the phone lines.

Liam and I talked about them and their questions. He took the intrusion lightheartedly and could tell I’d found the relief I had been searching for. “You’re happier, which can only be good for me! I can’t wait to meet them. They must be a ballsy group!” He laughed.

Spring had turned to summer and with it, mounting pressure for the launch of the London offices. Liam was under his own share of pressure. The IT company that he worked for had acquired new clients as a result of Liam’s hard work in New York, and he became busy coordinating the promotional campaigns for their products in Ireland.

We saw each other as often as possible, and, while there were long hours of pure passion, there was an equal measure of laughter and calm. We definitely needed that to offset the mental exhaustion we both lived with.

My meeting with Faith Clarkson resulted in a number of employees transferring to the London office indefinitely. In addition to me, seven of us were expected to relocate to London in less than four weeks. Since there was much to be done to ensure that we were ready to leave and the new employees were up to speed, I had only a few moments here and there to contemplate any future with Liam.

I was sitting at my desk, reviewing the financial data on my computer screen, when the phone rang. Evelle announced that Tiziana was on the line. Before picking up the phone, I saved my work on the computer and turned my chair to look out my office window. There was still no word from Des’s lawyers or news from Ted. While I enjoyed hearing from Tiziana, the conversations always began with a little bit of dread, a voice in the back of my head saying, “maybe this time…”

I picked up the phone, “Hello, Tiziana, how are you?” Phone calls from Tiziana had been lasting longer and longer lately. I knew that I would spend the next fifteen minutes listening to the emotional rant of an Italian woman who was planning an enormous wedding.

“All I can say, Charlotte, is that when it comes time for you to get married, run away. Elope, have a lovely party afterwards, and don’t mention any of it to your parents!” was Tiziana’s sage advice.

“Well, then, why don’t you do that? I can’t imagine Ted saying no. What’s a few dollars thrown away compared to another five months of wedding planning?” I asked.

“I know we should. The problem is that for me to not get married in the church by our family priest would be like, like, like, well, I don’t know what! Be glad you’re not an Italian Catholic.” She sounded frustrated, her trademark throaty purring replaced with a higher-pitched tone. “Is Liam Catholic? Because if he is, I can’t imagine an Irish mother being less of a problem.”

“Liam and I have barely talked about anything beyond next week, let alone marriage, so I’m not too worried about his Irish mammy! However, that’s a good question. I have no idea what religion he is or whether he is religious, for that matter.” I realized that there were some fairly large gaps in my knowledge of him.

I was wondering to myself what he might like to know about me but hadn’t asked, when the whole Des Bannerman situation sprang into my mind. Since Marian, Kathleen, Hillary, and I were speaking again, I now had five people nagging me to come clean with Liam. It seemed more important to me right now that we figure out what we were going to do about our immediate future. However, I couldn’t even figure out how to approach that, either. For all my skill and savvy in the workplace, my sixteen-year-old self shied away from initiating discussion on what could become an inflammable relationship issue.

“Charlotte, you haven’t been listening to me!” Tiziana complained.

“Oh, Tiziana, I’m sorry! I was just thinking of all the things I don’t know about Liam.”

“Then come to Saint-Tropez, bring your lovely Irishman, and take some time to get to know him,” Tiziana entreated, her voice purring again. “Just think of it, the two of you on warm, sandy beaches, lovely blue water, no work, no responsibilities. Just sun, food, wine, and love!”

It was both so appealing and becoming more unlikely by the minute.

“I’m hoping to,” came the little white lie, “and thank you for including Liam. I would love to bring him and introduce him to everyone.”
Another white lie
! This meant that if Liam and I were to go to Saint-Tropez, sometime in the next four weeks I had to tell him what had happened in Chamonix and outside the Bourgeois Pig. I had lied to him. I had to hope not only that he’d find the Chamonix fiasco entertaining but that he would forgive the lie, as well. It all seemed so impossible and fatigued me to contemplate it.

“Now tell me, what have you and Ted been doing to relax and have fun?” I asked her, and sure enough she allowed herself to be diverted. For the next ten minutes, I listened to stories of house hunting, flying on Ted’s private jet, making small talk at charity events, lovely dinners in Rome and London… Her life seemed like a made-for-TV-movie these days… or like the fantasies we had dreamt up in Chamonix, including the one about me and Des Bannerman.

My other line buzzed, and I asked Tiziana to hold on for a moment. I switched over to hear the sound of Faith Clarkson’s secretary’s voice. The entire transition team was being summoned to yet another meeting. I jotted down the information and switched back to Tiziana. “Hey, Tiziana, I have to go. I have a meeting regarding the London office and have to get all the latest information pulled together. I’m sorry. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Not to worry, darling. Thank you for listening! It will be lovely to have you near. Ciao, bella.”

I spent the next fifty-nine minutes uninterrupted. Just as I was walking out of my office, the phone rang. Evelle answered it, and then announced that Liam was on the phone. I dashed back into my office to take the call in private.

“Liam, I’m on my way to a meeting. Can I call you back later?”

“Meet me for drinks at that little bar near your apartment at 6:30,” he suggested. “The one with all the potted plants outside the patio.”

“I’ll be there,” I answered, and then sprinted to the conference room outside of Faith Clarkson’s office.

Throughout the meeting, I tried to pay attention to various reports and jotted down notes out of habit. These ongoing meetings weren’t only Faith’s way of staying on top of issues; they were her way of coping with stress.

Halfway through someone’s droning on about computer equipment and office organization, I suddenly realized that my brain was trying to tell me something important. There was
something
.
A tone in Liam’s voice that suggested something important was happening
. My heart was pounding and I started to sweat. All the possibilities dashed through my head: happy images, sad images, scary thoughts, sexual fantasies. About one minute of it was all I could take. I took a deep breath and told myself I would face whatever it was head-on. Fortunately, the same person was just wrapping up his report when I came out of my fog.

I made it back to my office just before 6:00. I grabbed my oversized purse and headed to the ladies’ lounge. I freshened my makeup, cooled myself down with the help of a cold washcloth, and then set my hair free of its restraints, managing to pile it up in a somewhat sexy fashion.

I arrived at The Spotted Pig with no time to spare. I squeezed my way in between the masses and found Liam sitting on a stool with his back to the bar, sipping a beer. I made my way to him and was rewarded with a very malty kiss. A few of my concerns faded away. “You both look and taste great! Can I have one?” I asked.

Liam turned around, picked up a sweaty glass up from the bar, and handed it to me. “Cheers!” he offered before taking a large guzzle from his glass.

I was beginning to feel a bit iffy but waited for him to fill me in.

“I’ve put our names down for a table. I got here early enough, so, with any luck, we won’t have to wait too long. They gave me one of these contraptions! What does it do?” he asked.

“It flashes and vibrates when the hostess is ready to seat us.”

“I’ll have to get you one of these when I leave,” he said with a grin. I smiled shyly up at him. “Would you like to sit?” He offered me his stool.

“Yes. Otherwise I’ll be staring at your belly button the whole time!” I hopped on the stool, happy to have the subject changed.

Standing next to me, he said, “Now we can be eye to eye, lip to lip.”

It was warm inside the restaurant, so I took my jacket off to reveal a form-fitting, frilly top. I was rewarded with a kiss to each shoulder before his lips met mine for a quick flirtation.

The people perched on barstools next to us made their way to the front desk after squealing with surprise at their buzzing, flashing box.

“Told you that you needed one!” Liam said as he plunked down on a vacated stool. When the waitress came by, Liam order us each another drink. “This place must be unbearable in August.”

“Most of New York becomes unbearable in August,” I replied.

It was Liam’s turn to squeal when our pager went off. “On second thought, you might not want one. The surprise might kill you before you get to enjoy the benefits,” he teased.

Once we were seated on a velvet banquette with our menus, Liam grabbed my hand, and I knew that whatever was on his mind was about to be announced. “Charlotte, I have both good and bad news. The bad news is that I have to head back to Ireland. The good news is that I have until Sunday to wine and dine you—and whatever else you’ll let me do.” He paused, searching my face. “Don’t look like that!” he said seriously.

I had no idea how I looked. I was guessing I looked shocked, confused, and scared. Attempting to inject a lighthearted tone, I replied, “I guess I’m going to need a vibrator of sorts.”

“We can pick it out together. Or would you rather it be a surprise?” he asked, trying to make me smile. When my fake smile didn’t cut it, he said, “Is it because I’m leaving or because I want to buy you a sex toy?”

Deciding to appear more confident than I felt, I said, “No, no, I’m fine! Bring on the handcuffs and whips.” It was about then that we both realized that the waiter was standing at our table, listening to our conversation, having forgotten to ask for our order.

“Two more beers please…,” Liam ordered. “The darker the better.” The waiter seemed reluctant to leave. When he was finally out of earshot, we laughed hysterically. I wasn’t sure if it was the beer or the stress or the combination of the two, but things suddenly seemed bearable.