A Chance at L.O.V.E._Bid On Love

by K. L. Myers

  “Lillian, I’m sorry if I offended you. I meant nothing rude by my comment. Actually, I was trying to joke with you. Yes, I switched a few things about the date, but that’s only because I wanted to spend time with you. When I learned that it was you who won the date, I wanted to make it twice as special.”

  She glares at me, trying to read if my response is sincere or not. “I didn’t bid on you or your date package, Linc. It was my best friend, so in all honesty, I really didn’t want all this.”

  Her eyes drop to her hands in her lap as she rubs her thumb of her right hand over the knuckles of her left. “I wanted to cancel last night when your assistant called, but then he said you knew I would cancel, and he gave me a guilt trip. That’s the only reason I’m here today.”

  She looks over at me, my smile taking her by surprise. “I know, Lillian; I saw what your friend did. I watched it all while you were away.”

  “You did? Why didn’t you say anything to the auctioneer or to Nadine if you knew I wasn’t the one who really bid on you?”

  I think about the question for a few moments before I respond. “I don’t know, maybe because I wanted to spend time with you. The thought of having to spend dinner with someone I didn’t know held no appeal to me, but once I knew it was going to be you, I decided to let it play out.”

  Lillian sits back in the seat, turning her head to look out the window. She sits quietly for a bit, then turns in her seat to look at me. “I’m sorry for being rude. I should have known you weren’t making fun of me or being arrogant; it's just this town. I hate it, and I’m very uncomfortable here.”

  I want to ask her what she meant by the comment, but I know I won’t get an answer. She doesn’t think I noticed that she redirected me every time I asked her a question about herself, but I did. So, asking her anything more will be a moot point. I’ll never get a direct answer, and if I do, I’m not sure it will be the truth.

  My limo stops outside of Oscar de la Renta’s on Madison. My driver opens my door, and I quickly move around to the passenger side to open Lillian’s. My hand lands on the small of her back as I escort her into the shop.

  “We’ve got an appointment with Sylvia,” I tell the petite blonde as we walk in the door.

  “Very well, sir. I’ll get Sylvia right away for you. Let me show you to our VIP area.”

  Once again, my hand finds the small of Lillian's back as she follows the little blonde. I don’t know why, but touching her feels natural, and she doesn’t seem to mind. Once seated, Lillian turns to me, drilling me with questions.

  “How did you arrange this? The date package said shopping on Fifth Avenue. It said nothing about private shopping at Oscar’s.”

  “Oh, Lillian, you really know nothing about me, do you? Alex Bolen was a managing director at Bear Sterns for many years before he married Oscar’s stepdaughter and then became CEO of Oscar de la Renta. Our paths have crossed many times, and in my line of work, you collect favors for a rainy day. Let’s just say it rained a little last night.”

  Lillian's laugh is genuine, and it is good to see her smile and relax some. It isn’t long until Sylvia has joined us, introductions are made, and I explain to her that we are in need of a dress that is comfortable yet elegant. Something not over the top yet breathtaking. Truth be told, I am quite excited that Lillian lets me do all the talking. As each dress is brought in, I defer to Lillian for her approval or denial. I watch as she shakes her head no so many times that I’m not sure we’re going to find anything she likes. I can tell that Sylvia is getting equally impatient. I’m sure she rarely runs into anyone who doesn’t fall in love with at least one of her choices. After all, these are Oscar pieces that most women would die for.

  Sylvia speaks up when she sees that Lillian is beginning to lose interest. “I have one special dress that I’ve saved for last. Truth be told, Ms. Vicci, I honestly thought you’d have found one of our previous selections ample. But alas, I can see that your taste is more than just the ordinary. You don’t want to look or dress like everyone else, do you?” Before Lillian can answer, Sylvia continues, “This last piece is exquisite, if you ask me. Unfortunately, not everyone thinks so, which is truly a shame. Let’s see if you have an eye for the beauty in this dress.”

  Just then, the door opens, and in walks a gentleman holding a black and white crocheted dress. The pattern looks like fern leaves. “This,” Sylvia says, “is my favorite. Each applique is attached to a smooth crepe de chine lining. Just enough peekaboo to get the men's heads turning, yet still very stylish and actually quite sexy. So, what do you think, Ms. Vicci? Is this more to your liking?”

  I turn to look at Lillian. Her hands are crossed over her heart. “It’s beautiful. I…” Lillian shakes her head. “I love it. Do you have it in my size?”

  Sylvia laughs, taking the dress from the man who brought it in, and walks to one of the private changing rooms, where she places it on a hook. “I assure you, Ms. Vicci, that this is your size. I don’t need to ask; it’s my job to know these things. I sized you up the minute you stood and shook my hand. Now go. Let’s see how beautiful you’re going to look in it.”

  I’ve never been one for shopping, not even with my sisters. Usually, when they come to town, I hand them my card and send them on their way. But today, I actually enjoyed watching Lillian’s expressions as she looked at each garment brought her way, and when she saw this dress, I felt utter joy in seeing the happiness in her eyes as she looked at it. As if that isn’t enough, the moment the changing room door opens and she steps out wearing the dress, I feel my heart skip a beat. Her beauty in that dress takes my breath away; it’s as if the dress was made just for her. Every curve of her body is accented. The dress fits tightly around her hips and waist but then flares out at the bottom, accentuating her long legs.

  “Well, Lillian, is this the one?”

  Lillian nods her head up and down quickly. “Yes. Yes, I love this one.”

  “Wrap it up, Sylvia; we’ll be taking that one with us.”

  Chapter Eleven

  LILLIAN

  The dress felt absolutely amazing the minute I stepped into it and zipped it closed. I watched as it hugged my body perfectly. I felt like a princess wearing it and hated having to take it off. I know just the cost of this dress far exceeds the nineteen hundred Ashlynn paid for the experience. I know that it is all tax deductible for someone like Lincoln, but to be honest, I feel guilty knowing that he probably didn’t intend on spending the kind of money a private shopping experience at Oscar’s costs. The auction brochure said shopping on Fifth Avenue; I just assumed that meant something along the lines of the Banana Republic or Ann Taylor, not this.

  By the time I am fully dressed in my own clothes, the dress has been bagged and is hanging over Lincoln’s forearm. As we exit the building, Jeffrey immediately opens the door to the limo. Lincoln hands the garment bag to Jeffrey and then climbs in beside me, once again handing me another black bag. I want to protest, but I know it’s futile. There are times when a girl needs to keep her mouth shut, and no amount of arguing over the gift will change the final outcome. Once again, a Tiffany blue box sits inside, only this time, the charm is a crown. How fitting that I just felt like a princess, and now I receive a charm to match.

  The privacy glass once again lowers as Jeffrey asks, “To Blandi’s, sir?”

  Lincoln nods his head, and the glass rises, giving us privacy once again. “I’m going to drop you off at Blandi’s, Lillian. Please feel free to take your time. Have your hair done any way you’d like and make sure Oscar treats you right.”

  “Wait, Oscar Blandi, the Oscar Blandi is going to be doing my hair?” I’m sure I heard Linc wrong. People try for months to get an appointment with him and never get the opportunity, and this being the month before Fashion Week, I can’t believe he would be able to take me on, on such short notice. “You’re kidding, right, Linc? You mean make sure Oscar gives me his best hair stylist, right?”

  Lincoln shakes his head at m
e. “No, Lillian. Oscar himself will be taking care of you. It is a favor to me. I have to stop by my office and handle a few things, but I will be back to pick you up. The salon will let me know when you are almost done. Oh, and, Lillian, please try not to fangirl all over Oscar.”

  I’m about to reply with a smartass remark when my door opens. I didn’t even notice that the limo stopped. “Ms. Vicci,” Jeffrey calls to me as he reaches in to take my hand. I step out of the car, and Jeffrey walks me to the front of the shop and then opens the door for me. We are greeted by a very handsome young man sitting behind the front desk. “Hi, Jeffrey. Is this the lucky lady?”

  I look up to Jeffrey, who is scowling. “Jorge,” he says in a tone that lets the young man know he is not pleased. “Yes, this is Ms. Vicci. She is here to see Oscar.”

  Once I am being escorted toward the back of the salon, Jeffrey walks out the door. I spend the next two hours being waited on. Champagne flutes continue to be handed to me as my makeup and hair are perfected. When I look at myself in the mirror, I can’t believe that it’s me. The dark circles that were under my eyes have miraculously disappeared, and my skin looks like I’ve lost ten years of age. I was in my early twenties the last time my skin looked this flawless.

  “Sei Bellissima.” Oscar waits for a moment, and when I don’t respond, he asks, “Ti piace?”

  “Yes, yes, I like it very much.” It’s then that I realize he has spoken to me in Italian, but I replied in English. “Scusca, si, lo amo,” I reply to him.

  Oscar laughs, placing both of his hands on my shoulders. “You are quite lovely, Ms. Lillian, and I’m impressed that you understood me and took the time to reply in our own language.”

  With a squeeze of my shoulders, Oscar turns my chair just as I see Jorge walking toward us with my dress bag from earlier today. “Mr. Eastwick asked that you dress before he picks you up. Everything you need including your shoes is inside the bag.”

  I take the bag from Jorge and follow him to the back, where I am given privacy to change. Delicately, I step into the dress and slide the zipper up. I have no idea how I look until I step back into the salon. Oscar shouts, “Bellissima,” which means beautiful. Several women give me a scowl, and I think to myself that they are just jealous.

  “Grazie, Oscar,” I say as I turn and look at myself in the mirror on the wall where I was sitting just a few moments ago. I suck in a deep breath at how beautiful I look. I may have started out the day not wanting any part of this, but now I couldn’t be more pleased that Ashlynn did this for me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Jeffrey. “Are you ready, Ms. Vicci? Mr. Eastwick is waiting for you.”

  I don’t think I could feel any more like Cinderella than I do right now. Jeffrey takes the garment bag from my hand, which now contains my clothes from earlier today, and I follow behind him. Once we step out onto the curb, the passenger door flies open, and out steps Linc in a black dinner suit. If I thought he looked handsome in his tux, he is equally hot in his fitted black suit and black tie. I see the hitch in his breath once again, as if he hasn’t seen me in this dress before. Linc holds his hand out to me, and I politely place mine in his as he leads me into the back seat. The door closes behind us, leaving our breathing the only sounds in the car.

  “You look absolutely radiant, Lillian. You take my breath away.”

  Chapter Twelve

  LINCOLN

  I’ve seen some beautifully stunning women in my time. More than one’s eyes should be blessed with. But Lillian is by far the most amazing creature I’ve seen in my life. I thought she was good looking when I first met her at her practice. When I saw her in the parking lot the night of the auction, I thought she was beautiful, so much more striking than when I had originally met her. But tonight… tonight, she is the epitome of Aphrodite and Athena mixed into one. Beautiful and wise all in one.

  When I told her she took my breath away, I wasn’t kidding. I can’t seem to catch my breath as I sit next to her. Our eyes have been locked on one another. Sheer joy fills her eyes. However, I’m sure lust and desire fill mine. Jeffrey’s voice pulls me back to reality. “Mr. Eastwick, we are almost to Lincoln Harbor. Would you like me to ring Alexander and let him know we are imminent to arrive?”

  I ask Jeffrey to have Alexander have everything ready and set up on the sky lounge deck. My 111’ Quaranta has an excellent dining area open to all the elements. When we arrive at the harbor, I take Lillian's hand in mine and escort her to the gangway. “Watch your step, Lillian, but don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.” The sound of laughter from her places me that much higher on cloud nine.

  I watch her as she steps into the salon of the ship, and I quietly follow behind her, letting her explore as much as she likes. Her eyes travel immediately to the center spiral staircase that extends up to the third deck. “Wow.” One word is all she whispers. Her hand trails along the spiral railing as she slowly climbs to the second level, where a sitting area with a television mounted on one wall is located. I watch her hips sway back and forth as she walks through, exiting onto the stern. When she spies the hot tub, her body swivels toward me.

  “I’m not getting naked in there with you,” she states matter-of-factly while her eyes and smile tell me differently. Yet once again, I can hear Bethany’s voice warning me off the good doctor.

  “No, I’m afraid we don’t have time for a naked rendezvous in the hot tub tonight, Lillian, but I’ll leave an open invitation in case one day you change your mind.”

  I step closer to her and see the hitch in her breath when I wrap my arm around her waist and walk her back into the cabin. As much as I want to follow her up the stairs so that I can watch her ass sway in front of me, I take the lead, holding her hand as we climb to the sky lounge.

  As we step out onto the deck, I pull a chair out for her to sit in. Candles light the table in front of us, and a bottle of Armand de Brignac Brut rose champagne sits in a chiller. A loud pop startles Lillian as the cork flies through the air. I pour us two flutes and hand one to her.

  “As the great Oprah Winfrey says, you get in life what you have the courage to ask for.” I look Lillian directly in the eyes. “What is it, dear Lillian, that you want in life that you haven’t had the courage to ask for?”

  It’s a loaded question, I know, but I’m hoping it will catch her off guard enough to share a little about what she is hiding from. I clink my flute with hers and bring mine to my lips, taking a sip. She still hasn’t answered me. “So, Lillian, tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine.”

  A full body laugh fills the night air. “I hardly believe you will tell me any of your secrets, Linc. But I will share one secret with you.”

  I watch as Lillian ponders what she will share. “I’m an open book, Linc. What you see is what you get.”

  I hardly believe that little lie. There is nothing about her that is an open book, but for now, I’ll let her keep her secrets.

  Just then, the steward places a salad down in front of her and then sets mine in front of me. I motion for her to continue, but the moment has been broken, and I know that her secret wasn’t that she was starving as she claims it was.

  After dinner, we make our way out of the harbor and down the Hudson. Lillian and I move to the sitting area on the main deck to avoid the chill from the wind. We both take a seat on the sofa and watch the city lights glow. The city skyline all lit up is magnificent, and as much as I love home more than the city, I’ll never deny how breathtaking it is.

  “In all my years growing up here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the city this beautiful before.” Lillian brings the champagne flute to her lips and tips it back but stops when she realizes what she’s said. A look of horror fills her eyes, and I visibly see her hands begin to tremble.

  I slide closer to her on the sofa, remove my jacket, and place it over her shoulders. My instinct is to pull away once I’ve done that, but for once I’m not going to follow my instinct, and I’m going to take
a chance and leave my arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer to me.

  “Lillian, did you just say you grew up in New York City?” My hand brushes the bangs that are hiding part of her face aside so that I get a clear view of her magnificent eyes.

  Lillian reaches forward, placing her flute on the table, and then pulls the lapels of my jacket around her as she rests her elbows on her knees. “I guess having a little too much to drink really does cause loose lips.” She tries to laugh it off, but she quickly realizes I’m not going to let this go. “Yes, I grew up in the Bronx as a child and then moved to Brooklyn as a teenager. My family still lives there, but we are estranged.”

  I want to ask so many more questions, but I don’t. Instead, I pull her into my arms and kiss her. I kiss her softly and gently, letting her know I am here for her. I won’t pry any further, and as much as I want to deepen the kiss, I don’t.

  It is almost midnight by the time I drop Lillian off at her home. Every ounce of me wants to follow her in and strip her bare, sink my cock into her deep to satisfy what I know we both want but won’t act upon. But I am the gentleman and walk her to her door, thank her for a lovely evening, and slide the charm bracelet on her wrist. This time, however, all the Tiffany charms have been attached along with one final charm in the shape of a price tag with the word ‘PRICELESS’ engraved on it. Because that’s what she is, and that is what this evening was. Priceless.

  There is something about Lillian Olivia Vicci that gets under my skin in a good way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday Morning

  LINCOLN

  My house bristles with angst as Bethany and I try to round up Peanut. As usual, he has hidden somewhere in the house, and neither of us can find him in any of his normal hiding places. I called for him several times, but he didn’t reply. I’m beginning to worry until it dawns on me that the only place in the house that we haven’t checked is my bedroom.