Free Little Miss Lovesick by Kitty Bucholtz Page B

nicest restaurant in town.
    I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I meant, did you have a specific kind of property in mind?”
    “Now, that’s what we’re going to discuss over lunch, darlin’. Merci’s mama i s ve r -ry pa r ti c ular. I love her, but I’d rather get her her own cottage than have her here with me and Merci. Lawd!” GT made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like he was having an attack.
    “Well, we could discuss it now, on the phone. Then I can get started that much sooner.” I hoped my voice conveyed polite enthusiasm, not a deep-seated desire to spend as little time in his company as possible. Apparently, it conveyed both.
    “Aw, Sydney, honey. Ain’t you something? You’re safe from me.” He laughed again. “I’m a reformed man! Didn’t I tell you I got married? Mercedes Tobias. Well, Mercedes Turkelbain now. But I just call her Merci. Oh-h , Me r -ci!”
    “You’re married?” I inhaled a deep breath of relief. Well, that changed things. I hoped. “Congratulations, GT. You sound very happy.” I hoped I didn’t sound too relieved. “I’m not available during lunch today, but tomorrow looks open.”
    “I’ve got another lunch tomorrow. Hang on now.” I heard papers rustling, then GT talking to someone else. “Oh, here’s the contractor now. Can’t keep him waiting. He’s making my dreams come true with these renovations. I’ll call you back and we’ll schedule a time ASAP. Maybe a dinner meeting would work better for me. All right now, darlin’.” And he hung up.
    I opened my mouth to agree, but dial tone was all that remained.
     

CHAPTER 8
    THE next couple days consisted of catching up on work from the weekend and getting ready for another three-day weekend. (Boy, I really know how to schedule my vacations, huh?) Emily and I didn’t have time to see each other because she was doing the same thing, but we always had time to talk on the phone.
    “Just say no, Syd,” she said when I called her Tuesday night. “It’s that simple. I remember how stressed out you were when you worked for him last winter. You don’t need that.”
    “I know, but I made almost $30,000 on that sale.” I ate chocolate chips out of a bag while we talked. “And he’s married now.”
    “Then have him meet you at the office. Or make sure his wife will be home. The money’s not worth the stress if it turns out he’s not so reformed.”
    That particular period of my life was not what I wanted to think about. Bad enough that my boyfriend was completely unsupportive of my problems with a touchy-feely client. But Dirk got all bent out of shape about my insistence that all the money go into our House Fund. Said it was the man’s job to provide for a house. Said I should buy something pretty for myself. Suggested a flat-screen TV for watching movies together. Hmm, in retrospect, maybe the TV thing was a warning sign in our relationship.
    In the end, he convinced me it would be better to buy my Kia Sportage with cash and not have to worry about the $400 a month payments since real estate is such a feast or famine kind of business. Now I had no house (which I probably would have by now if I still had that money) and no man providing one.
    But yo u d o have an opportunity to replenish the House Fun d , said a Voice.
    Price tag , sanity, said Sarcasm.
    I decided to think about it until GT called back, and make a decision then. Or maybe after we had our first meeting.
    Thursday, Trent reminded me about lunch while we were standing in the kitchenette. Before he knew it, two more co-workers had invited themselves along. Trent did not seem one bit happy, but he was too polite to say anything. Me, I was afraid to say anything for fear the others would think Trent and I had a thing going. So the four of us went to lunch and, honestly, had a pretty good time.
    Back at the office, though, Trent followed me to my desk. “So, have any plans for dinner tonight?”
    Boy, you give an