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Of course, he was now chomping at the bit to take this discussion to the next level, but there were more meet-and-greets awaiting. Liv happily made the rounds with him, gracious yet lively, with that innate feisty kick to her.
Any man would feel like the king of the world if he had this woman on his arm. Tristan felt more than that. He was proud to have her at his side, intoxicated by her scent and humbled by her beauty.
His and Nate’s accomplishments did not go unnoticed or unmentioned by the people they rubbed elbows with, but for all the recognition of the hard work they’d put into their company, the endless hours, the sacrifices made—including that of a personal life—it was more thrilling to be in Liv’s presence. With the sides of her silky hair swept up, her perfectly accented face, and her sensuous crimson lipstick, she kept the testosterone pumping heartily through his veins.
She also appeared impressed by all the tech talk and the building of necessary connections for him and Nate . . . until something occurred to her. A light switch flipping on.
As they left one group and worked their way toward another, she asked, “Why is it so important for you to set up lunch and cocktail dates or tee times with all these people? And why in God’s name is Nate speaking with the governor?”
Tristan’s gaze followed hers out to the deck. “Excellent timing. We should join them. That’s one professional relationship we need to solidly cultivate.”
“What does the governor of California have to do with your UK-based business?”
“It’s an international company—we do plenty of business in the States, and are looking to expand into the Defense Department arena. So capitalizing on a US presence with strategic-policy headquarters in San Francisco is imperative. And Nate and I are manning the new operations.”
“Whoa—wait . . . what?” She suddenly drew up short, jerking Tristan back a step.
He glanced down at her. “Something wrong?”
Her jaw fell slack for a few seconds, her eyes widening.
“Liv?” Had she spilled on her dress? Swallowed champagne down the wrong pipe? “You okay, honey?”
“I—you—I—” She gave a sharp shake of her
head and exclaimed, “You’re moving back to California!”
Chapter Seven
Liv was outrageously excited, her heart pounding wildly, the adrenaline pumping.
How amazingly perfect!
Then she remembered that she was moving to New York.
“Holy shit,” she mumbled, disheartened, as she came crashing down from her high.
“What?” Tristan inquired again, looking deeply concerned. “You’re starting to worry me, Liv.”
“I don’t know . . .” She waved a dismissive hand as her mind reeled. “Nothing to talk about right this very second.” Christ, she could barely breathe. “Just . . . go do your thing. Let’s mingle.”
She surged forward, because she’d always gleaned immense satisfaction from supporting Tristan and Nate, no matter what their endeavors. Even if everything she’d been plotting was suddenly starting to unravel.
Her two favorite men, whom she’d just realized almost a week ago she missed more than anything she could possibly fathom, were about to be within her reach. Except . . . no. They weren’t. Because Liv was moving across the country—closer to London. Where Tristan and Nate would not be!
Son of a bitch!
She’d accepted the fact that at least the next three years of her life needed to be focused on her musical career. On the East Coast. A hop, skip, and a jump from the UK.
She pulled in lengthy breaths that filled her lungs. Exhaled slowly. All the while, she told herself that flying back to Bayfront would actually be a quicker jaunt than flying to London. No need to get all crazy over the stars scattering when she’d known that was exactly what would happen if she even dared to dream of another intimate rendezvous with them.
Cosmic forces worked in the most fantastic or the most insidious damn ways.
In today’s world, Liv could actually be living in the same town as Nate and Tristan. Hell, even if they chose to buy flats in the city or rent suites at the Fairmont instead of residing in Bayfront, they’d still be right around the corner. They could have dinners together, hang out at the yacht club, join their friends for cocktails on the patio here in town, or meet up regularly in San Francisco.
In an instant, Liv had considered how wonderful that would be.
And an instant later . . . the excitement had been ripped from her grasp—as had they. Because she wouldn’t be living in “today’s world” much longer.
