I could see Vaughn through the sliding farm doors of the barn. He was listening intently to the lesson on the next wine. He stood out in the small gathering. I would have noticed him in any crowded room. The way he held his frame. His strong arms. His eyes.
“It’s Saturday, Meg. Saturday.” It almost came out as a whine.
“Have I ever called you on Saturday before?” she prodded.
“No.”
“I’ll text you her number. Can you at least call? Please?”
I shook my head. Lana Foley’s case was chipping away at my time with Vaughn.
“All right. Send it over and I’ll try to call her.”
“Thank you, Emily. I just hope she’s ok.”
“Why wouldn’t she be ok?” I stopped before I let myself finish the thought. “I’ll call you right back.”
I hung up and waited for the text.
Vaughn strolled out of the barn, carrying a tiny cup. “You missed the pear apricot one.” He dropped the sexy smile. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“It’s a client. She’s not responding to us and we have a huge deposition with her Monday. I need to try to make a few calls. I’m sorry.” I looked at him with regret. I knew I was letting the outside world into our bubble.
“I’ll walk you back to the room. You can make all the calls you need to.”
“Are you sure?” I hated it. I hated work. Right now I had some not-so-nice things to say about Lana Foley.
“Of course. I’ll do some work too. I brought my laptop in case.” He tossed the cup into a bin.
“We shouldn’t be working. I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
“No apologies. Come on. I’ll get you back to the room. Hop on.”
I looked at Vaughn as he stooped to lower his back.
“Piggy back ride?”
“Hop on.”
I giggled as I jumped from the ground.
“Hang on.”
I secured my arms around his shoulders as he started to jog toward the inn. That was the moment I realized that beneath the confidence and the polished sexy exterior. Behind his smoldering bedroom eyes, Vaughn was fun.
I left messages for Lana at both numbers Meg texted to me. I also sent a follow up email. It didn’t make sense that she hadn’t responded to either of us.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going?” Vaughn asked. He sat on the bed with his laptop, watching me pace.
I fell onto the bed. “In the vaguest of terms I can tell you my client is trying to sue a high profile member of Congress and I still can’t find her.”
I stared at the ceiling. It sounded much worse when I said it out loud.
“Do you want to head back to the city?” he suggested.
“What?” I sat forward.
“I understand if you want to check on her. You might feel better if you’re back in D.C. It’s an important case. I assume an important client.”