Chapter Six
Meagan arrived at the gala committee meeting with a notebook, two pens, and a clear plan to behave as though she had not kissed Aaron Morris in an empty ballroom the previous afternoon.
The plan was simple.
She would sit across from him.
She would discuss seating arrangements, auction logistics, sponsor signage, and meal accommodations.
She would not look at his mouth.
Unfortunately, Aaron was already seated beside the only empty chair.
He looked up when she entered.
The warmth that moved into his expression was immediate.
Her plan failed before she even reached the table.
“Good morning,” he said.
His voice sounded normal. That seemed suspicious.
“Good morning.”
Meagan placed her notebook on the table.
The West Coast Volleyball Foundation conference room had been designed for twelve people and currently held seventeen. Folding chairs lined one wall. Floral samples covered the credenza. Coffee cups, schedules, and auction catalogs occupied most of the table.
Evelyn stood at the far end speaking into her phone while pointing at a photograph of coral peonies.
Hailey sat near the windows with her laptop open. She gave Meagan an innocent smile that confirmed she had arranged the seating.
Amanda sat beside her, wearing a yellow blazer and an expression of open delight.
Meagan looked at the empty chair.
Then at Amanda.
Amanda smiled wider.
Rule five had already failed.
Aaron stood and pulled out the chair.
Choosing a folding chair along the wall would be obvious. Obviousness suggested discomfort. Meagan was not uncomfortable.
She was simply experiencing an unusual degree of awareness regarding one specific person’s hands, voice, eyes, and proximity.
Entirely different.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting.
Aaron returned to his chair. His arm brushed hers.
Meagan opened her notebook. The first page contained the list she had written that morning.
Confirm meal selections.Review sponsor placements.Finalize auction-table assignments.Do not discuss the kiss.
The last item had seemed practical at six-thirty. Now it looked incriminating.
She placed her hand over the bottom of the page.
Aaron leaned slightly closer.
“Classified information?”
“No.”
“You covered it.”
“I’m holding the page flat.”
“There’s no breeze.”
“The air-conditioning is on.”
He glanced toward the ceiling vent on the opposite side of the room.
Meagan moved her hand to the top of the page instead.
His mouth curved.
Her pulse reacted.
That was becoming tiresome.
“You appear amused,” she said quietly.
“I’m happy to see you.”
The answer reached her without warning.
Her fingers tightened around her pen.
Aaron turned toward Evelyn before Meagan could respond, as though announcing that her presence made him happy was an ordinary greeting and not a direct threat to the distance she had spent the previous evening trying to rebuild.
Evelyn ended her call.
“Coral peonies remain impossible,” she announced.
Amanda lifted one hand. “Emotionally or botanically?”
“Financially.”
“That is the least romantic answer.”
“This is a fundraiser, not a wedding.”
“Those are often the same thing with different tax consequences.”
Evelyn distributed updated schedules.
“We are four days from the gala. I would like to finish this meeting before another vendor develops a creative interpretation of the contract.”
She looked toward Meagan.
“Thank you for joining us.”
“I was added to the calendar.”
“Yes.”
“That is not technically an invitation.”
“But it worked.”
Meagan respected the efficiency too much to object.
“We have three priorities,” Evelyn continued. “Final seating, sponsor recognition, and auction logistics.”
“The banquet-table quantity has been corrected,” Meagan said. “Four were mislabeled, but the rental company updated the invoice.”
Evelyn nodded. “Good.”
“The auction tables are being moved to the lower terrace this afternoon, and the cocktail-table count was accurate once the upper terrace was included.”
Evelyn looked at Aaron. “You brought her to one walkthrough, and she completed half my list.”
Aaron rested one forearm on the table. “She does that.”
The pride in his voice made Meagan look at him. He did not appear surprised by her work. Or relieved that she had made things easier. He simply looked pleased because she had done something well.
The distinction settled beneath her ribs.
Amanda typed something into her phone.
Meagan narrowed her eyes. “What are you writing?”
“Nothing.”
“You are visibly typing.”
“I am documenting committee progress.”
“You are not on the committee.”
“I have become emotionally invested.”
Hailey touched Amanda’s arm. “Put the phone away.”
Amanda looked offended. “You invited me.”
“I asked you to bring the revised program copy.”
“And now I am supporting Meagan.”
Meagan turned toward Evelyn. “May we add removal of unauthorized observers to the agenda?”
“No. She found a spelling error in the scholarship brochure.”
Amanda smiled triumphantly.
Meagan opened the seating chart.
Fine.
She would focus on work.
Work had predictable rules.
Names went at tables.
Dietary restrictions received codes.
Sponsors sat close enough to feel valued without being so near the stage that they could see the foundation director checking her phone beneath the podium.
Work did not kiss her back.
For the next forty minutes, Meagan successfully avoided Aaron’s mouth.
She also avoided his eyes, hands, shoulders, and most of the right side of the room.
Hailey had already incorporated Meagan’s seating corrections. Scholarship recipients now sat among directors and athlete ambassadors. The auction committee occupied two adjacent tables. Daniel and Celeste remained at Table Four with the corporate sponsors.
“We need to move the Beachline Resort representatives,” Evelyn said. “They requested seats near Hawthorne and Lowe.”
“That table is full,” Hailey replied.
Meagan reviewed the chart. “Move the Keating family to Table Seven.”
A committee member frowned. “They donated the Catalina weekend package. Table Seven is farther from the stage.”
“It is beside the auction display featuring their package,” Meagan said. “They will receive more direct acknowledgment there. Table Four already has three sponsors competing for attention.”
Evelyn nodded. “Do it.”
Hailey dragged the names across the screen.
Aaron leaned closer to view Meagan’s printed chart.
His shoulder touched hers. She did not move. Moving would draw attention to the contact.
Remaining still did not mean she liked it.
The warmth spreading along her arm meant nothing.
Aaron pointed to the open seats at Table Four.
“Put the youth-clinic coordinator and her husband there.”
“They’re currently at Table Eleven.”
“They’ve been trying to meet the Hawthorne team about funding next summer’s program.”
Meagan studied the chart.
“That makes sense.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“You agreed with me.”
“I agree when people are correct.”
“I should document the date.”
“You are spending too much time with Amanda.”
“Everyone is.”
“I heard my name,” Amanda said from across the table.
“No one was speaking to you.”
“Frequently, yet I remain relevant.”
Aaron lowered his voice. “She has a point.”
Meagan looked down to hide her smile.
The meeting moved through sponsor recognition, meal codes, and silent-auction descriptions.
Amanda became genuinely useful when she changed Three-Night Wellness Escape to Three Nights Without Anyone Asking What’s for Dinner.
The committee approved the revision unanimously.
By the time Evelyn reached the final agenda item, nearly two hours had passed.
“The foundation memory display still needs to be assembled,” she said. “The volunteer assigned to arrange the photographs is home with the flu.”
A box rested beneath the credenza.
Evelyn looked around the table. And everyone suddenly became busy. One committee member checked her phone. Another examined a floral sample.
Hailey looked at Meagan.
“No,” Meagan said.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
Evelyn followed the exchange. “You are good with details.”
“I have already been assigned to seating.”
“The seating is finished.”
“It may change.”
“It will not.”
“That is dangerously optimistic.”
Aaron leaned back in his chair. “I’ll help her.”
Meagan turned toward him. “I have not agreed.”
“No.”
“You assigned yourself to a task I did not accept.”
“I volunteered to help with a task you will accept in approximately thirty seconds.”
“That is presumptuous.”
“I’ve heard that recently.”
Evelyn placed the box in front of Meagan.
Inside were dozens of photographs spanning more than twenty years of foundation programs.
Youth clinics. Scholarship ceremonies. Beach tournaments. Fundraising dinners. Volunteers standing beneath sun-faded canopies.
Frames and caption cards were stacked beneath them.
Meagan touched the corner of the top photograph.
A group of children stood beside a volleyball net wearing shirts several sizes too large. One girl held a ball beneath her arm and grinned at the camera.
“When does this need to be finished?”
Evelyn smiled.
Aaron wisely did not.
“Friday.”
Meagan looked through the photographs.
They were not labeled chronologically.
Several lacked dates.
The caption cards had been dropped into a plastic bag without organization.
“This should be arranged by program rather than year,” she said. “It will show the foundation’s growth more clearly.”
Evelyn nodded. “Exactly.”
“You already considered that.”
“I hoped you would.”
“That was manipulative.”
“It was efficient.”
Aaron laughed quietly.
Meagan looked at him. “Do not encourage her.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your breathing has a tone.”
“It’s hopeful.”
Evelyn closed her folder. “Use the small conference room.”
“I have a client call at two,” Hailey said, gathering her laptop. “But I can stay for thirty minutes.”
“You cannot,” Meagan replied. “You need time to prepare.”
“I am prepared.”
“You said the client changed the meeting objectives last night.”
Hailey paused.
“That information was confidential.”
“You told me over breakfast.”
“That does not make it less confidential.”
“You should review the new proposal.”