It wasn’t an easy decision to move back here, but I’ve loved this home as much as they did. Not because of its roots or the Franklin Lloyd Wright name, or because of its uniqueness. I love its spanning windows, most of which face south to garner winter sunshine. while trees fully bloom in summer to offer shade. I love its unadulterated peace, and of course, the memories of my family carved in my mind forever.
***
Feeling melancholy as I reach the master bedroom, which I’ve now claimed as my own, I call Gage, hoping he might come over as I get ready for tonight. Maybe he can help me answer the question that has had me spinning in place all day.
What does tonight mean, exactly? Is it a date? Or some form of therapy to associate my own loss with others that are experiencing the same tragedies.
“Hello lil dove.” The smile is evident in his voice.
“It’s a fashion emergency, Gage. I have a formal benefit tonight. Can you come over?”
“Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with Mr. Perfect?”
“Because it does. Don’t judge, just help me.”
Silence lingers for so long, I’m not sure he’s going to answer. Finally with a heavy sigh he weakens.
“Please, Gage.”
“Time’s a’ wastin.’ I’ll pick up lunch and be over lickety-split.”
I exhale in relief, and the events from last night come crashing through my mind yet again. Theo has seen me naked, and suddenly I’m feeling vulnerable, it’s silly, really. . My most secret parts on display for him alone, it makes me feel safe. There’s something special floating between us and I have every intention of catching it and trying it on for size.
I won’t be ashamed of what I did. And from this point on, I will find my inner strength to make my feelings known. It feels as if he is the only man who understands me and my loss. The only man who can save me from drowning, in his own unique way. I trust him, I want him.
Tonight, Mr. Perfect will be mine.
I hear the front door open, then close. The loud thud of Gage’s beloved Gucci Marland boots make their way to the kitchen.
“Lunch is served, my queen,” he says as I enter the kitchen. He’s setting plates and silverware on the marble island facing the sliding doors to the outside patio. Memories explode when I’m greeted by a nine-foot, in-ground swimming pool surrounded by stone.
Then I’m engulfed in the aroma of ginger and cumin. I turn to see Gage dumping chicken chow mein with sweet and sour pork and mixing them together on his plate.
“That’s disgusting.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Mind your manners, it’s delicious.”
He stuffs mouthfuls in as if it’s his last meal.
I laugh. “I don’t think so.”
I look through the white paper bags for mine. Simple, chicken fried rice with two egg rolls. Delish. We eat in silence
“Am I here to help you rock his world, Eden?”
I haven’t shared any of this with him, not that I couldn’t. Gage is the least judgmental person I know.
“Exactly. I cannot do this on my own.”
“Living dangerously, are we, Eden?”
If he only knew. With Gage, I feel under construction, where he is already built. Confident, sure of himself. Gage has always been the perfect influence on me.
“Okay, here’s what we do. we need to get an inventory of your wardrobe.”
“God, no,” I say, knowing what he’ll find. “It’s a charity gala. I don’t own a dress that’s suitable to wear to something like that.”
“But your mother does.” Waving his hands in the air, he tries to erase what he’s just said. “I’m sorry, lil dove. That was cold, and you’re probably not ready for that.”
His eyes drop to his Gucci boots.
“No, you’re right.” I say confidently. “I’m good. She has so many beautiful gowns. I’ll leave that in your capable hands.”
At this point, flattery is not beneath me.
He gives me the okay gesture and we make our way to the master bedroom, where I see him eyeing all the boxes I have yet to unpack, because I know to do so would require removing all my parents’ things. I’m just not ready for that yet.
I stand at the doorway as Gage starts to pull gown after gown from my mother’s closet. I’ve never noticed her love for formal wear before. We’re about the same size, so I decide at that moment that I won’t remove one piece from her closet. I know I sound ridiculous, but it warms my insides just to touch them.
Then, without warning, I hear, “So…has the two-legged stool sample called you?”
“Denver?” I laugh while trying to get the words out. “That’s really mature, and no, he most definitely hasn’t called.”
“Um, excuse me for caring about my best friend.”
He pushes by me, then gracefully lays all the contenders on the bed. Gage is definitely a fashion force to be reckoned with.
“Let’s start with black.”
After six dresses in all shapes and designs, the last one takes my breath away.
“Feast your eyes on this,” he says, lifting a strapless lilac gown with a sweetheart neckline.
I instantly search my memory, but I can’t recall my mother ever wearing this one.
When Gage reaches under the trim he gently tears the price tag off, my suspicions are confirmed, it’s new. But it only reminds me that she’ll never get the chance to wear this dress.
“Here, you’ll need these.”
I’m not modest in the least with Gage as I busy myself with the task of putting on the new undergarments. The soirée Adare sexy long bra and panties combined with the garter made from beautiful lace adorned with Swarovski bead work—all of it makes a powerful statement.
I approach the mirror, Gage not far behind me. My eyes roam the length of me from my breasts to my toes, which are painted bright red. I felt pretty. Even sexy.
“Oh, you’re more than fine, dove.”
As we both gaze into the full-length mirror, I squirm at his compliment
“So, what’s next?”
“Hair, makeup, shoes, and then that beautiful dress. I found a Valentino sheer floral lace wrap, too. Your mother had fantastic taste.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror as I sit at the makeup table, memories flooding me, but I can handle it. I’ll be wrapped in the shawl I’ve seen her wear on numerous occasions, and hopefully it will give me strength. After an hour of poking and prodding, and a few curling iron mishaps, it’s time.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Eden.”
“You and me both.”
***
The doorbell rings sharply at six o’clock, and an intoxicating rush flows through me. I take a deep breath and open the door. We stand facing each other in silence for what felt like minutes, when in reality, only seconds have passed.
“Hi,” I say shyly, as I slowly move aside. “Come in.”
“You look…” Theo swallows and takes in a deep breath as I watch him pull at his collar as if it’s too tight. “Is it warm in here?”
His eyes slowly roam over my body in the most delicious way.
“I suppose it is,” I answer, reaching for my gold handbag. “Do you make all the girls’ hearts beat a little faster, doctor?”
Taking one step toward the door, I look over my shoulder for an answer that doesn’t come.
Theo clears his throat and heads out, ignoring my flirtatious question. Then he opens the passenger door for me, and I climb into the red Typhoon to sit on the soft leather seats.
Once he’s seated, both hands gripping the steering wheel, he whispers, “You look beautiful, Eden.”
He hasn’t so much glanced in my direction. I get the distinct impression that there is a war going on in that handsome head of his.
He pulls into traffic and the car purrs in response. I devour the sight of him and stare at his profile. I marvel at the man beside me, taking in every detail of him, which makes coherent thoughts impossible. The inter
ior of the flashy car reeks of power, mirroring its driver.
“You pull off a tux very well, doctor.”
I glance at his features as they slightly change into a sideways smile.
“Thank you, Miss Barnett.”
“You can call me Eden, doctor.”
“Tonight, you can call me Theo.”
And finally we share a brief glance face-to-face, eye to eye, and soul to soul. It’s intoxicating to be on the receiving end of this man’s affection, and I’m mesmerized and eager for what is about to come.
As we make our way inside, I’m ushered straight to the bar. His hand is placed gently on my lower back, but I feel a sense of urgency. Is he nervous?
“Tanqueray and tonic, lime please.”
He looks at me in question, but that drink order? I can’t let that go.
“Tanqueray and tonic? How old are you, anyway?”
I’m smiling with one hand resting on my hip. His grin meets mine, and then he leans over, closer than we’ve ever been. So close I can feel his breath on my cheek.
“What are you implying, Eden?”
The sound of his deep voice ringing in my ears almost steals my breath “I wouldn’t imply anything, I’m pretty straight forward.” Allowing some much-needed space between us, as his scent washes over me. I lean over the bar so the bartender can hear me.
“I’ll have an Easy Street.”
I see him using his phone, googling the recipe. I could have given it to him.
Easy Street
1 1/2 ounces Plymouth gin
3/4 ounce St. Germain Liqueur
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
1/4 ounce simple syrup
2 thin cucumber wheels
His Chiseled features square jaw covered with the right amount of scruff attract certain attention. Yet, I feel a comforting calm descending over me. A drink at my lips, the soft music in the background, and his eyes focused intensely on mine. What I wouldn’t give to know what’s going on behind those turbulent blue eyes of his.
“Our table is over there.” He points the one labeled number four. “I have a speech to give after dinner, and then they’ll be dancing and more mingling.”.
“People are dancing now.”
I watch one of his brows rise in question.
“You’d like to dance, Eden?”
Our eyes remained locked, and my insides quiver.
“Why, yes, since you asked so politely.”
I bat my eyes in a teasing manner. Then I feel him reach for my hand, and I gladly take it, feeling the warmth of him to my very core. He leads me to the dance floor, snaking through the other dancers, and once we’ve found a place, he twirls me under his arm. When I’m facing him, he pulls me in, folding me into his arms. I can feel his heart beating rapidly.
***
Silence stretches between us as our bodies sway to the music. I’m pressed against his muscular chest, and I can feel his strength, his power. How could I ever deny him anything? The earthy aroma melting off him overpowers my senses as a hint of sandalwood drifts in and circles around me.
He’s pure male, and I’m mesmerized by his easy grace and confidence as we dance. I can’t get close enough, deliberately pressing my breasts against him and positioning my body provocatively against his. His thigh brushes against mine, allowing his erection to cushion against my sweetest spot. As his face lingered over mine, I feel intoxicated.
“Powerful men turn me on,” I whisper, as my fingers tangle in his dark curls at his nape.
He inhales deeply, nearly losing his control.
“Do you like the way that feels?” I bravely ask, feeling the heat radiating off of him.
“Which part, Eden? I’m feeling many things.” His gaze drilling into me.
The subtle pressure into my sex tells me he is as lost as I am, and when he touches his lips to my forehead—a feather-like wisp of pleasure ignites—it speaks of things unsaid.
I want to bring them out of the darkness, into the light.
“Do you want more, Theo?”
“I’ve always wanted more, Eden,” he says with heart-stopping tenderness.
Handsome, hypnotic and powerful, I am falling for him right here, right now, in his arms. We stare at each other for a long time. He traces a finger across my bottom lip.
“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
His full lips slowly descend onto mine. They touch me with the gentleness of a passionate tide rolling over the sand. My lips soften under his as waves of pleasure reel in everything he offers.
I’m abruptly brought out of paradise when I hear a chair scrape across the floor. It’s loud. Too loud, actually, as if someone has done it on purpose, making a statement. Our bodies abruptly part as we watch a woman come our way. She is tall, slender, and immaculate. Long blonde hair floats around her as she walks with purpose toward us.
“Am I interrupting?”
She makes eye contact only with Theo, even as I’m not buried deep within his arms, I feel invisable. “Can I have this dance?”
With unnerving intensity, he lets go of me abruptly. His gaze is suddenly disconnected from mine, now on hers. I don’t like this at all. Who the hell is she, and why would Theo brush me aside so carelessly?
I move silently about the room until I’m met by a man who introduces himself as Theo’s best friend, Alex. I’m still seeking control over my emotions when he leans in.
“I don’t trust her, and neither should you.”
Both of us are watching the display on the floor.
“Don’t worry, Theo will put her in her place,” he says.
“Who is she?” I’m clamoring for information.
“That’s a conversation best had between you and Theo. Would you like to dance with me?” He holds out his hand.
“Love to.”
As he twirls me and shows off his fancy dance moves, Theo’s eyes land on us. I can tell his control is about to snap, the song ends and I watch as their conversation takes a turn. She huffs off and Theo makes his way back to me with hurried impatience.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Alex whispers to me as we both watch Theo’s already bad mood escalate into fury. His arms are crossed over his chest as he stands within a foot of us, then he silently barges ahead.
“Damn it, Theo, get a grip! All this simply because I had your woman in my arms?”
A small sarcastic grin escapes Alex’s lips.
“Don’t mind him,” Theo says as he straightens his tie.
He’s hovering over me like a threatening storm, but I still have no answers about that woman.
“What did Olivia want? You know she’s a bitch.”
“Alex.” Theo’s eyes narrow in warning
“What? I’m the asshole, just because I say what’s on everybody’s mind?” He arches a sly brow.
“Perhaps I should take a moment or two to freshen up, gentlemen.”
And with that I head off to the lady’s room. Disoriented by the events of the night, I can’t get past this woman who was in Theo’s arms. Who is she to him? An old flame who’s unable to let go? It makes me physically sick at the mere thought of them together.
Yet, after all of it, I still crave his touch.
After washing my hands, I reach for my lipstick and start to apply it when a loud and threatening voice behind startles me.
Olivia.
“You aren’t supposed to be here, you know.”
Her arctic cold tone is frightening. She juts her chin out, seemingly overconfident as she stands there, ready to take me on.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
My entire body has stiffened at her remark. Inhaling and unsteady breath. I’m in disbelief as she sneers back at me in the reflection, flicking a nonexistent piece of lint off her dress.
“But then, you know that already, don’t you?” Her mouth curves into a devious smile, one of superiority. Clearly, she’s played this role before. She’s very good at it.
“Excuse me, I’m here with Theo.” I don’t want her to know that I can be hurt by her words. “Or here’s an idea. Why don’t you just mind your own business?”
I manage a deadpan expression, as if I could care less, but the tick in my eye most likely gives me away.
“Listen, little girl. This is a place to see and be seen—for grownups. And Theo needs a woman, not a child. Are you a virgin, sweetheart? Is that the appeal?”
Her words finally cut deep enough to send a surge of anger radiating through me.
“This is playing out like a bad scene from a movie, so drop the freak show act and kiss my ass.”
“How cliché.”
I let her have the last word as I storm out. Alex was right: she is a bitch.
When I return, Theo is giving his speech. Our eyes lock, his questioning stare wordlessly asking where I’ve been. He gets his answer when his gaze moves to Olivia, who is walking right behind me. I can see the veil of control appear, and his words start to pull me in. I move silently about the room, finding myself leaning against a beam as his words make me forget what happened just moments ago
“Survivors Benefits for Your Children. Most of us don’t like to talk about death, or even think about it, but wouldn’t you feel better knowing that if you or your spouse were no longer living, there would help taking care of your family? The Spirit Gala is a premier annual event with corporate, professional, and community leaders in attendance. This year’s theme, ‘The Story of Us,’ invites guests to become a part of this club through the healing power of storytelling.”
Then he takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair, as if he is gathering strength from the act.
“My own story started at age seven, when I lost my entire family in a horrific car accident. Foster homes, one after another, were my life, but the families were good to me. Others weren’t so fortunate.”
I’m unprepared for his declaration, and even more moved that we have this horrendous pain in common. Catching a glimpse into his secrets, his grief, his pain. Is that why we are drawn to one another?
Surviving Eden (Surviving Series Book 1) Page 10