The Perfect Woman (Rose Gold Book 2)

by Nicole French

  By the time I finally drew up the courage to walk out to the patio and pool, a large party had assembled. Eric’s guests of honor weren’t due until tomorrow, but everyone else was well known to me: neighbors, extended family members, and society acquaintances, all likely summoned by Mother, who was sitting on one of the loungers at the far end, presiding over the party like Cleopatra. It all looked very…normal.

  The staff wove in and out of the crowd with trays of canapes while Marcus, Mother’s butler, mixed drinks under a large umbrella. I recognized several neighbors and their children splashing around the large kidney-shaped pool along with Olivia while a few board members cornered Eric near the lawn. Jane, with her blue-streaked hair standing out in a crowd of polite neutrals, sat on one of the lawn chairs making conversation with a few distant cousins. She brightened and waved when she caught sight of me, but I could barely respond when I spotted him.

  Matthew sat on a lounge chair next to my mother, each of them nursing what looked like Marcus’s famous gin and tonic. Like me, Matthew had changed into more appropriate poolside clothing. But as much as I missed his shirt sleeves and tailored trousers, I couldn’t deny that he still made the simple black shorts and short-sleeved button-down work well, particularly with the tawny, rigid lines of his stomach flexing under the open shirt front, the silver cross and saint’s medallion on his chest gleaming in the sun. Add the vintage browline sunglasses and straw fedora, and he looked good enough to eat.

  Not for the first time, I wondered how a man like him could exist in the twenty-first century.

  He opened his mouth and laughed at something my mother said, his teeth shining white from across the lawn. Mother tittered into her drink and tossed a hand into the air, gesticulating a little too much. I rolled my eyes. She was a terrible flirt—always had been, much to Grandmother’s disapproval.

  For a moment, I considered turning back. It wasn’t too late. No one else would notice me, and Jane certainly wouldn’t say anything.

  “Nina!”

  Well, I could have turned back.

  I turned to find Edith Stacy, one of my mother’s oldest friends, winding her way around the pool to give me a kiss. Just beyond her, Matthew turned at the sound of my name, and started when he found me. His mouth dropped open, and his glasses slid down his nose so that his deep green eyes betrayed the expression of pure lust—and yes, love too—as they swept over me.

  I swallowed and stood a little taller, thankful that the large shades I’d popped on before coming down were firmly in place. Who knew what kind of emotions were reflecting back at him?

  “Come join us,” Edith said, taking my arm and guiding me around the pool before I could answer. “Your mother has been asking about you for the last hour. We’ve all been dying to say hello.”

  I was summarily deposited on the lounger beside Matthew, who shifted uncomfortably as our thighs touched.

  Mother sat up in her own chair. “Edith, be a darling and ask one of the staff for an umbrella out here, will you? We’re positively roasting.”

  Edith, acting more like a handmaid than an equal friend, immediately darted off at the command. I barely masked a snort. It hadn’t taken my mother long to adjust to her self-appointed role of queen bee of the family.

  “Well, look at us,” she said, tipping her enormous sunglasses down her long de Vries nose to look me over. “Putting on quite the show, I see.”

  “Mother,” I said. “I just changed. I promised Olivia I would go for a swim.”

  My mother’s gaze wasn’t anything as penetrating as Celeste de Vries’s, but Violet de Vries still had at least some genetic ability to look through a person like they were made of glass. Everyone in my family was like that.

  It took everything I had not to grab at the sides of my cover-up.

  “I see,” she said as she eyed me up and down. “Well, I daresay you can’t now. They’re animals in there. Just look at that. Olivia positively tore Mr. Zola here apart. She got a side ache from laughing so hard, the poor thing.”

  I chanced a look at Matthew, who had by now replaced his sunglasses, though I could still feel his stare drilling into me from beyond the opaque lenses. His shorts were still a bit damp, sticking to his lithe, powerful legs, and his white shirt clung slightly to his shoulders from the remnants of the water. For a moment, I could imagine him climbing out of the pool, muscles gleaming. My heart caught in my chest. And then it moved to my throat when I imagined him making my daughter laugh.

  “Oh—oh,” I breathed. “Well, I’m…I’m sorry I missed that.”

  “Well, at least you look fabulous,” Mother replied as she leaned back in her chair. She turned to Matthew with a lazy smile. “Isn’t my daughter beautiful, Mr. Zola?”

  “Mother,” I muttered. “Please stop before you embarrass yourself.”

  “Oh, pish,” Mother replied.

  She waved her hand at me, and the bracelets around her wrist clinked together. A decade’s worth of consolation prizes from my missing father.

  “Don’t pay attention to her, Mr. Zola,” she said. “She’s more obsessed with propriety than even my dear mother was, may she rest in peace. Won’t put a toe out of line, not ever.”

  “Is that right?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a black brow rising over the rim of his glasses.

  “Please flirt with her, Mr. Zola. God knows that husband of hers never does.” Mother clicked her tongue, then took another long drink. The motion made the bracelets on her wrist clink again. “My fault,” she said in slightly slurred speech. “I married a man who put an ocean between us. Makes sense Nina ended up with someone just as absent.”

  “Mother!” I snapped. “Please stop.”

  “You stop. And get a cocktail, for heaven’s sake. You’re at least three behind all of us. Yoo-hoo! Marcus!”

  “Yes, madam?” Marcus looked harried, weighed down with a tray full of drinks for the increasing party. I turned my attention fully on the butler in order to avoid the handsome, green-eyed pity I was sure I’d see from Matthew.

  “Marcus, Nina needs a cocktail,” Mother said lazily. “She’s a terrible bore without one.”

  “Mother, honestly. It’s not even two. And, Marcus, I can just get a sparkling water from the kitchen. You have enough out here—”

  “Nina, now you stop it,” Mother interrupted. “This is what we pay him for. Marcus, you know what she always has. Aperol spritz, light on the Prosecco.”

  Marcus swallowed, clearly struggling under his tray of drinks. “Of course, madam. If you’ll just wait for me to deliver these, I’ll return with yours—”

  “I got it, Marcus.” Matthew interrupted. His thigh brushed against mine as he stood, sending shivers all through me.

  “Oh, Mr. Zola, that’s not—”

  “Mrs. Astor, it’s really no problem. Anything for such a beautiful woman. And her daughter, of course,” Matthew said, charm dripping from every syllable.

  My mother blushed. A woman of fifty-five blushing like a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl.

  “Oh, Mr. Zola, it’s Violet. Please.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Matthew flashed the crooked grin that made my own stomach drop. “It’s no problem. I happen to make an excellent cocktail. Shall I make us a couple too?”

  “Yes, please!” Mother replied, fanning herself.

  He nodded. “If you’ll follow me, Mrs. Gardner, I’ll get you that drink.”

  And just like that, the swirling in my stomach clenched into a tight fist of dread. How could a name affect me so? It was just a name, but coming from him…oh, I couldn't bear it.

  Call me duchess, I wanted to beg him. Doll. Nina. Anything but Mrs. Gardner.

  Instead, I followed Matthew silently through the crowd to the cocktail cart by the patio entrance. He spent a few minutes locating the ingredients for my drink. I leaned against the cart, enjoying the way he kept darting quick glances from the sides of his glasses at my legs. Matthew always did like my
legs.

  “You. Little. Tease.”

  The words were barely audible over the clink of the ice. But I could hear them. Just for me.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” I murmured back.

  The quick, dark glance over his glasses made the pool of desire in my belly splash again before he went back to pouring Aperol and soda.

  “I thought we were done playing games, doll,” he said, overly focused on our drinks. “We had an agreement. Keep our distance, no matter what. And then you walk out in that.”

  I looked down at my body, then back up at him. “It’s just a swimsuit.”

  “And I’m just Eric’s friend from Harvard. Give me a break, Nina.”

  Once again, that odd streak of defiance only he brought out reared its ugly head again.

  “This is a pool,” I said. “A swimsuit is hardly inappropriate.”

  Matthew sucked in a labored breath, then exhaled through his teeth. “I can see every damn curve you’ve got. Every gorgeous inch of those long legs.” He shook his head ruefully and pulled on the collar of his shirt, despite the fact that it was hanging open. “Christ, baby, your nipples are practically staring at me, begging to be bitten.”

  I reddened. “Oh, please. The material isn’t that thin, Matthew.”

  He grinned as he slowly peeled a bit of orange. The muscles in his forearm rippled with the simple movement. “Well, no. But the fact that I know them so well makes it easy to imagine.”

  I bit my lip. He growled, low.

  “Well, sauce for the gander, as they say.” I accepted my drink, trying not to look affected as our fingers brushed.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You could have at least buttoned your shirt.”

  Matthew looked very much like he wanted to laugh, more so when the muscles over his stomach tightened. Somehow, he managed to swallow back his mirth as he prepared a twin cocktail for my mother and another for himself. Then he leaned toward me—not so much that anyone would notice, but the minuscule difference was enough to set my heart racing.

  “You want me to cover up, baby?”

  Another shiver traveled down my spine despite the ninety-degree heat. It was hard—so hard—to stand next to him like this and not touch him. I wanted to run my finger down the slick plane of his chest. Touch the divot where his necklace hung. Lick away the tiny drops of sweat that lingered there.

  “Well, you seem to think I should,” I said. “And yet you act like it doesn’t go both ways.”

  I forced myself to look away and took a sip of my drink. Of course he made a perfect cocktail. Of course he did. The spritzer was refreshing. Exquisite. Just like him.

  His gaze traveled up and down my body, searing right through his glasses. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see through them. In fact, maybe it was better. I doubted I could take the intensity otherwise.

  It occurred to me then that he might say yes. He wasn’t exactly happy I was here. And he was right—I was going out of my way to be a distraction, wasn’t I? He wouldn't be unreasonable to suggest that I make myself less provoking with a caftan. Or just disappear altogether, out of sight.

  But the thought anchored another, much more familiar feeling in my stomach—fear. Not fear that someone would discover us, but fear that Matthew—my Matthew—was like everyone else. That he would want me to maintain propriety above passion. That he would want to hide me away.

  Or punish me if I did not behave.

  Please don’t, I found myself begging internally. I really didn’t think I could take it if he did.

  But before I could say anything, he pulled down his glasses so his eyes could meet mine. The force of his gaze almost made me take a step back.

  “Don't mistake my struggle for censorship, doll,” Matthew proclaimed quietly as he stirred the drinks. “Any man who’d hide a woman like you should be locked up himself. A man who won’t let you shine doesn't deserve the light of day.”

  God, how did he always do that? One moment we were all witty repartee, and then, just when I thought I was getting my bearings, he would completely undo me.

  “Matthew, I—”

  He cleared his throat roughly, replaced his sunglasses, and looked across the pool, explicitly away from me. “Nina, you need to shut your mouth and stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like—like what?”

  “Like you want me to drag you onto that lounge chair and ruin this whole damn charade. Right here. Right now. Don’t think I wouldn’t do it, either.” He hissed another breath through his teeth, like he was having trouble catching it. “You have sunglasses?”

  I opened my mouth again to argue with him, but he just cocked his head as if to say See?

  So I just nodded. “Yes.” I held up the pair I had brought out with me.

  Matthew set the stirrer on the cart. “Good. You win, all right? You look stunning, and it’s going to drive me crazy in ways you can’t even imagine. But right now, I’m going to stay on my side of the party and keep your mother company while she runs her mouth and introduces me to important people. You keep your shades on and stay on yours. For both our good. Deal?”

  I nodded again, suddenly feeling like a chastised schoolgirl and fighting the urge to yank the sides of my cover-up together. “Yes. Fine.”

  Matthew picked up the other two drinks and made his way back to my mother without another look my way. I turned to face the pool, cocktail in hand, and without thinking, tipped it back in one go. Oh, he was right. I shouldn’t have come out here. I shouldn’t have stayed at all. The next few days would be harder than I had ever imagined.

  I turned in the other direction and found Jane watching me carefully from the other side of the pool. Beside her, Eric seemed to be fielding questions from an assortment of extended family while she sat alone, looking bored. I waved at her half-heartedly, and she tipped her head to one side as if to beckon me over. Questions were written across her wry features, through the thick cat-eyed glasses that somehow made her look both quirky and shrewd.

  “Mommy? Mama, are you actually wearing a swimsuit? Are you really coming in?”

  Grateful for the intrusion of Olivia’s uncertain voice, I turned my attention to the pool, where she had swum to the side with a hopeful look on her face.

  I knelt down to the edge and forced myself to smile.

  “Yes,” I replied with more enthusiasm than I felt. “Yes, I believe I am.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Two cocktails, endless hidden glances, and one swim with Olivia later, I had made small talk with every one of my family’s associates and acquaintances, and steered my great-uncle Rupert away from the drink cart, all while assiduously avoiding Matthew’s quick green gaze even while being astutely aware of his presence as he also made his rounds about the party. From time to time, I caught bits of conversation floating about. He was using his skill with cocktails to his advantage—getting on Marcus’s good side by helping out the staff and using my mother’s large stores of liquor to loosen the lips of my family’s social circle.

  To them, he was a lark. A charming, well-mannered boy with just enough edge to give them a thrill. He knew exactly the right kinds of things to say, to the point where I found myself quite disgusted with it all. Was that how I had been when we met? Had he sized me up across the bar, known that if he touched my shoulder in the exact right way, called me “doll,” and looked at me with those deep green eyes, I’d melt into his touch just like my cousin Carolyn was right at this moment?

  I found myself stewing on exactly that when my name was called from across the party. I turned and froze when I saw the second last person I expected here today: Caitlyn Calvert. Well, I suppose it was Shaw now.

  “Will this day never end?” I muttered to myself.

  “Nina!” she called out with a flick of her wrist. “N, darling! Oh, I’m so glad you made it this weekend!”

  On the other side of the party, Jane froze mid-conversation with her mother-in-law, Heather
, with whom she’d become quite close recently. She immediately set her empty glass on a side table and made a beeline over to Eric, who was encircled by two neighbors comparing golf courses in loud, domineering voices. Eric’s face lit up with relief when he saw his wife approach, but immediately hardened when he followed her nod toward Caitlyn.

  “Shit,” he mouthed, then found me. His meaning was clear. What was Caitlyn doing here? I shook my head, hoping he would understand that I was not the one who invited her.

  “Hello,” I greeted Caitlyn as she offered air kisses. “This is a surprise.”

  I waved a hand for Marcus’s attention, but he was already starting a cocktail for Caitlyn, as well known as she once was in our family.

  “I’m so sorry to drop by unannounced,” Caitlyn replied. “Violet called to let us know about it this morning, and Kyle’s desperate to get Eric’s ear on something. But I’m glad I came—look at you! In a bikini, no less!”

  “Oh. Yes,” I said. “Did you lighten your hair again?”

  “Do you like it?” Caitlyn toyed with the sunny blonde ends of her waves. “Just a touch-up.”

  I tipped my head. “It’s nice. I haven’t seen it this blonde for years, though.”

  There was a loud throat clearing beside her. Caitlyn turned to her husband as if he were gum on the bottom of her shoe. I glanced between the two of them. It was clear that Caitlyn hadn’t filled him in on her last interactions with Eric and Jane.

  “Well, go on now,” she said to him like she was shooing away a bug. “He’s over there. You made me ruin these people’s evening, so you might as well do what you came here to do.”

  Kyle Shaw shot his wife a bored, irritable look, but straightened his shirt collar underneath his seersucker suit and strode toward Eric.

  “He’s dying to get his hands on this development project,” Caitlyn said. “Somewhere in the Bronx, if you can imagine anywhere up there worth developing.”