At Wit's End Read Online Free Page B

her body into her version of submission and on days when she had a slight wine hangover she was particularly brutal.
    “If you’re going to play, you’ve got to pay,” she panted and checked the time left on the machine. She was on the treadmill at a speed that was a near jog and had been for what felt like forever. She had about 10 minutes left in the cycle and she turned up the volume on her music.
    “Punish the body, punish the mind,” she groaned and wiped sweat from her brow. She thought it smelled like Riesling, winced and debated adding another 15 minutes to the machine but, really, she was being masochistic enough, was she not?
    The SmartPhone sitting on the shelf of the treadmill lit up and started dancing toward the edge. “Oh, thank you, whoever you are.” She quickly cancelled the rest of the cycle and turned the music to a tolerable level. She double-checked the incoming call and swiped her finger across the screen to answer it.
    “Thank you for calling C U There Party Planning. This is Marie, how may I help you?” It would have been the perfect tone had she not been panting.
    “Hello, Marie, how are you today?” The voice was smooth, young, well-modulated and definitely cultured.
    “I’m doing fine, thank you for asking. And yourself?”
    “Just great. My name is Brad Witson. We’ve exchanged emails about an event I’d like to plan.”
    “Of course, Mr Witson. Thank you for calling.” Marie was finally getting her breath back. Then she flashed onto the image of him in those revealing boxer briefs and nearly lost it again. “I understand you have specific requirements?”
    “Indeed. I’m preparing to host an event at my home. I’ve spoken with a few caterers and have asked them to write up proposals.” He listed several companies that Marie was familiar with. They were all high end and ultimately she hoped C U There would develop the same clientele. “I’d like you to put some ideas together and then we’ll meet to discuss it.”
    “I have a few questions before I’m able to do that, including the date of the event and any theme you may have in mind.”
    Wit’s mind went blank. He’d been making this up as he went along and realized his cover story wasn’t as thorough as it probably should have been. Next she’d ask about a guest list and, honestly, he didn’t have one. He scrambled. “I intend to have the event within the next month. I assume that gives you enough time?”
    Marie nodded to the phone. “A month will be more than sufficient. When would you like to get together to discuss my proposals?”
    “Will three days be enough time? I’m afraid I have several meetings scheduled and that’s my only available time. We’ll meet at CoffeeBot and, if you’re selected, I’ll bring you here to begin putting those plans into effect.” Wit winced. His ability to lie smoothly hadn’t left him while he’d been on the islands apparently.
    He wondered what else would come back to him now that he’d returned to New York. There were four that never would. Before his mind could travel down the dark path that reminded him his friends now resided underground he listened to her response.
    “I’m afraid I’m not aware of CoffeeBot’s location. If you’ll text or email me the address I’ll be happy to meet you in three days.” Marie pulled up her calendar, winced at all the empty squares that she’d hoped to have filled with appointments, and added their tentative meeting.
    “It’s a welcome home party,” he told her. Brad wondered if he’d actually have to throw the party at this rate. “So, for a theme, do what comes naturally.”
    “If I may ask, where had you been travelling? I can plan dishes accordingly.”
    Wit cleared his throat. “Think Jamaica, the British Virgin Islands, like that.”
    “It sounds like that would have been a fantastic vacation,” she replied. Ideas began swirling through her head and she immediately discarded anything that involved tiki