by Nancy Warren
“Do I get a look at the goods first?” He eyed her coat.
“Oh.” Ridiculous to feel slightly shy. “Of course.” She unbuttoned the coat, feeling his eyes on her. The dress was cut low enough to be sexy, without being too revealing. It fell off her shoulders, clung where it touched. A woman who didn’t work out as much as she did and watch her diet as rigorously could never have got away with it.
Wade gave a low whistle. “I’m a lucky man.”
“That you are.”
Before she could put the coat back on, he said, “Wait.”
He disappeared into the bedroom and came back out holding a leather jewelry case. “Your engagement present.”
Her startled gaze flew to his and she felt a blush forming. “Wade.”
“We want to make this look real, don’t we? And I can’t have your fans and my associates thinking I don’t know how to treat my future wife.”
She flipped open the box with hands that weren’t quite steady. “Oh, Wade, it’s beautiful.” The bracelet was diamond and ruby, tasteful and exquisite. He removed it from the case and she held out her hand for him to put it on her wrist. “How did you know?”
“I asked Sarah what color you’d be wearing.”
“I love it. Thank you.”
This was one of those foolish, awkward moments when a real couple would embrace and she had no idea how to respond. She said, “I have something for you, too, oddly enough. I’d intended it as a small thank-you gift, but we can consider it an engagement present.” She went to her bag and retrieved her own jewelry box.
He glanced at her, then opened the box revealing gold cufflinks she’d had engraved with his initials.
“Perfect,” he said, and held out his own wrists so she could replace the boring black cufflinks he was currently wearing in the French cuffed shirt with the gold ones.
When they left to meet his driver, he took her hand.
Within an hour of the party starting it was clear this was going to be a huge success. Everything was perfect, from the uniformed waiters carrying trays of champagne, exquisite hors d’oeuvres, the music, currently a string quartet, but later there would be a name band for dancing. She was conscious of looking her best and feeling well matched by the tall, handsome man beside her.
As Sarah had promised, everyone who was anyone was there, and in LA that made for a very glittering crowd. Celebrities from movies, music, modeling, sports, business and politics showed up to help her celebrate. The media who had been invited were the ones she considered the good guys. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t report on it if a star got involved in a DUI or ended up in rehab, but they didn’t go out of their way to sling dirt, and were usually more interested in glitz and glamour.
And tonight was all glitz and glamour.
She hadn’t expected to enjoy herself and was surprised at how much fun she had. Garry Greenstein’s toast was both funny and warm hearted. He made fun of the curse, of the modeling industry, took a few gentle pokes at Manhattan business, and ended up by saying, “If this woman is cursed? I’ll have what she’s having.” That pretty much brought the house down. He then raised his glass and said, “To Evangeline and Wade. God bless. Mazel tov.”
There was resounding applause when he was finished and as the noise died down, to her surprise, Wade took the mic. She searched for Sarah. Was this planned?
Then Wade began speaking. Maybe he wasn’t one of the world’s most famous and highly paid comedians, but she was surprised how confident and assured he was in front of this crowd. He thanked Garry for his kind words, and managed to get a good laugh himself when he described how fame had changed him. “A young woman at Starbucks asked me whether I was keeping my own name when we get married, or whether I’ll be Mr. Evangeline.” Most everyone in this room understood the strange encounters that being a celebrity or even associated with one caused. He spoke only briefly, thanking everyone for coming to the party. “Thank you for making this night so special for us.”
Someone began clinking a glass and soon the sound grew. He laughed and pulled Gabby into his arms, planting her a good one. When he pulled away, everyone was clapping and laughing and she felt girlish and flushed. Wade said, “I didn’t follow the script.” His eyes were dancing with devilry.
“I noticed. You did good.”
Then, even though the party had resumed and no one was particularly watching, he kissed her again, the kiss of a man with a lot more on his mind than kissing.
She wrapped her arms around him and clung. She’d missed this so much, missed him.
She kept mingling, making an extra effort to talk to all the reporters who hadn’t already left to file stories and upload photographs. This party was mainly for them, after all.
This room contained some of the best looking men in the world. They were A-list actors, models, athletes, but not one of them made her pulse race the way a certain stubborn man from Manhattan did.
The party was winding down, when Wade appeared at her elbow. He guided her away from the drunk TV actor currently trying to seduce her. At least, that’s what she thought he was attempting, he was so wasted it was difficult to be certain.
He very neatly substituted Sarah’s assistant Brie, introducing her to the drunk actor and easing Gabby away.
“Oh, poor Brie.”
“She’ll be fine. And at least she’s getting paid for this gig.”
“True.”
“You ready to get out of here?”
Oh, she was, especially if it meant she could finally be alone with Wade. She’d felt him seducing her all night with little touches, his gaze scorching her skin every time she caught him looking at her. “I feel like we should wait until more people have left.”
He shook his head. “I checked with Sarah Marsden. She gave us the green light to slip away.”
She’d always been one to arrive fashionably late and leave a party before it grew boring. To have permission to slip away from her very own party seemed fitting.
“Great. I’ll get my coat.”
Soon they were in the back of his car. “Would you care to come back to my place?” He didn’t offer an excuse, like a drink or something, but then it was very clear to both of them what he had in mind.
“I would like that very much,” she murmured. And, with a very satisfied expression on his face, he gave the order to the driver.
He took her hand in his. The bracelet winked and sparkled. “I had so many compliments on the bracelet. Thank you.”
He lifted her hand, turned it over and pressed his lips to her wrist. “You’re welcome.”
He didn’t lunge at her in the back of the car, even though she could feel the pent up wanting, instead, he tortured her senses. The kiss on the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, a finger tracing the line of her hip.
By the time they got to his hotel she was so hot she was melting.
They headed straight to his room and when he had the door shut behind them, he swiftly unbuttoned her coat, letting it slip to the floor. “You looked like a fire goddess tonight in your red dress,” he said, before kissing her deeply.
She made an incoherent sound and kissed him back.
“We never did practice my talking points,” he said, as he kissed his way to spot where her breasts met above the fabric of her dress and put his mouth there.
She could hardly manage a sensible thought. “Talking points?”
“Mmm.” He took her hand, scooped up the printout and led her into the bedroom.
What on earth?
“Talking point one,” he turned her and, instead of unzipping the dress, kissed that point at the top of her spine that made her shiver. “Evangeline is an amazing woman. I’m proud of her success.” He slid the zipper slowly, slowly south.
This dress had been made for her and a bra would have ruined the line. She could almost feel his lust spike when he realized she was braless.
“Talking point two,” He traced the line of her spine with one finger. “We’ll keep houses
in both LA and New York.”
He slipped the dress down her arms and let it slide. “Talking point three,” and then as it slid all the way his tone thickened. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”
She chuckled, thrilled at how his lust was choking him. “That’s quite a sound bite.”
He turned her slowly. She felt nervous and fluttery. “I’m not twenty anymore,” she warned. As hard as she worked out and as rigorously as she monitored her diet, twenty years had taken their toll. Her skin tone wasn’t as firm, her breasts were fuller and softer. She had ripened.
He was still fully dressed and she was naked but for a pair of silver heels. “You are more beautiful than ever.” And then he drew her to him and kissed her.
As he’d undressed her, she returned the favor, but the teasing was over. Need and long pent up desire pulled at them. He scrambled out of his formal wear, and she helped, relieving him of his cufflinks.
He also looked better than he had in his twenties. He’d filled out, carried himself with added assurance.
When he tipped her back on the bed, so familiar and yet so new, she wondered how she had ever gone so long without him.
Then he put his mouth to her breast and she was lost to all thought for a very long time.
Chapter 11
Gabby turned up at work on Monday heavy eyed and very, very satisfied. She and Wade had barely left his bed until this morning when she’d scampered home to change her clothes before heading into Evangeline.
She made the rounds of her design house, complimenting the seamstresses on their attention to detail, offering a helpful suggestion to the pattern maker who took her designs and turned them into workable cutting patterns. She became rapturous over a bolt of ivory satin that had arrived that morning from Milan.
If she was conscious of the astonished glances of her staff—no, her team—she pretended to be oblivious. She wondered if Wade and Sarah Marsden were correct and she’d have happier and more productive employees if she truly believed they were a team. It was something to think about.
Her day seemed to fly by with none of the usual snags and complications. When Marlene and Leandra arrived at two in the afternoon, Gabby had almost forgotten they were scheduled for the smudge session.
She was wearing one of her favorite dresses, a soft gray silk that felt wonderful against her skin and would be ridiculously easy to remove. She and Wade had made no plans for after work, but she definitely had some ideas.
Marlene strode in looking as though she were wearing John Travolta’s white suit from Saturday Night Fever. With her flame red hair cascading down, the effect was startling.
Leandra was much smaller but equally colorful. She looked to be in her sixties and wore a loose paisley blouse, a flowing black cotton skirt and sandals. On her head Leandra wore a blue and red silk scarf wrapped around her hair turban style. She wore no makeup. She did not need it with those large, penetrating almost-black eyes.
The four young brides, or wives, she supposed apart from the redheaded Megan O’Reilly, filed in together. She got the feeling they had met first, maybe even shared a ride. Kate and Ashley she knew, so she introduced herself to Tasmine Ford, who shook her hand heartily as though they’d just finished engaging in some sort of sport together. And, finally, Megan, who was much more tentative in her greeting, but stared at her with appeal in her dark brown eyes.
The thought flicked through her mind that the Tarot card reading had mentioned a light-haired woman. And Megan’s red hair had a lot of gold in it.
She was glad to see there was no awkwardness between Marlene and Kate Winton-Jones. In fact, for all the complicated relationships in this room, everyone seemed at ease with everyone else. Marlene introduced herself to Tasmine and Meg, and Leandra watched them all.
She gazed around the space and her gaze caught on the wedding gown hanging in the corner. “Is that the dress? The cursed dress?”
They all turned to stare at the dress, so exquisite, so unloved. “It is.”
“Good. Now, ladies, gather round.” The women gathered around her in a loose circle. Ashley said to her, “I really like your turban. Is that part of your costume?”
Leandra laughed. “Oh, bless you. No. I can’t stand the smell of smoke in my hair. I wrap the silk around my head so I don’t come home smelling like I’ve spent the night out back of a bar huddled in the smoker’s corner.”
She glanced at all of them and had them repeat their names to her, taking a moment to stare into each woman’s eyes just until the gaze became uncomfortable and then she’d move on. When she had given them each the piercing stare routine, she nodded briskly. She opened her bag and withdrew what looked like a bundle of straw that was about six inches long and tied together so it made a dense bundle about an inch thick. Kind of like a very ragged cigar made of weeds. “What we’re going to need is an open window.” She strode to the long French doors that opened onto the balcony, and pushed them open wide. Light streamed in, gleaming on the rich, hardwood floors and Gabby was surprised to see the sun. Something about this woman and this ceremony called for moonlight.
Leandra waved the unlit bundle so they could all see it. “This is a smudge stick. Now I don’t want you to worry that it’s been polluted with any kind of bad thoughts. I have a very few good provider who assures me this sage is pure. But, all of us carry energy in with us and so, before I start, with your permission, I will smudge each of us.” The women all looked around at each other and nodded or shrugged.
“Good.” Leandra dug around in her bag. Gabby could hear clanking sounds and crystals banging on crystals. She wondered what was in there. Leandra gave a frustrated tsk. “I always forget something. I forgot my lighter. Does anyone have a lighter? Or some matches?”
No one spoke for a moment. Kate Winton-Jones said, “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”
“Me either,” Ashley said.
Tasmine shrugged healthy cheerleader shoulders and shook her head. It only needed one glance at that clear healthy skin to know that woman never smoked a cigarette in her life.
“Sorry,” Megan O’Reilly said. Since Megan was here under false pretenses in the first place, Gabby felt that the least she could have done was to be a smoker.
Well, she wasn’t going to waste the afternoon after all the trouble she had gone to get all these people gathered in one place, not for the lack of a damn match.
She strode over to her Chippendale desk and dragged open the lowest drawer. She pulled out a package of matches that advertised the Waldorf-Astoria. She pushed the drawer shut with her knee and walked back over presenting the matches on her open palm.
“Oh, aren’t you a sweetie. I thought for a moment someone was going have to run down to the corner store for a penny book of matches.”
She struck the wooden match against the flinty thing with gusto and the red tip sprang into flame. She held the lit match against the sage bundle, turning it to make sure every bit of it lit and she held it up for a moment until it was good and flaming and then she blew out the flame. What was left was a lazily smoking hunk of weed. It smelled a bit sweet and mildly like mold. “The native peoples use this particular sage because the smell is reminiscent of the earth,” Leandra said.
Or beach parties.
“Now, I’ll start the spiritual cleansing with myself.” As she spoke she began waving the smoking sage stick down her arms, over her body, up and down her legs and around her turban-clad head.
“Marlene? You okay to go next?”
“Sure.” Marlene gathered her long, red hair in one hand. “Wish I’d thought to bring a silk scarf, though.” Then she stood by while Leandra smudged her.
Then she moved toward Kate Winton-Jones and began the same procedure. She got to Tasmine Ford when suddenly the door opened and in walked Wade, carrying a bouquet of flowers and saying, “I snuck past Salvador, I thought we’d—”
He stopped dead on the threshold and gaped at the seven women gathered in a smoky circle. She felt color c
limb into her cheeks and jumped as though she’d been caught doing something reprehensible. “Wade! I wasn’t expecting you.”
He recovered in an instant and gazed lazily at the proceedings as though he witnessed smudge ceremonies every day. “Ladies,” he said nodding slightly. “Sorry to interrupt. Evangeline, call me later.” He was about to leave when Leandra stopped him. “No. No. If you’re here, it’s because you’re meant to be. Please come in and shut the door behind you.”
He glanced up in mild horror. As his gaze connected with Gabby’s, she stifled the urge to giggle. “It’s a smudge ceremony, darling. Leandra is trying to rid my space of bad energy.”
“I should’ve guessed.”
Leandra motioned him to stand beside Megan O’Reilly. Eyeing the smoking sage, he removed his jacket and placed it on a far chair. He wore a crisp white dress shirt. She could see from the glint of gold that he was wearing the cufflinks she’d given him. His trousers were gray and his black loafers shiny. She introduced him. “Everyone, this is my fiancé, Wade Davenport. Wade, in order from the left are Kate Winton-Jones, Ashley Carnarvon, Tasmine Ford and Megan O’Reilly. I’m not sure who’s changed their names when they got married, but we’ll use first names.”
He nodded at all of them. “Pleased to meet you.”
“And this is Marlene in the white suit and Leandra is leading the smudge ceremony.”
Leandra had finished with Megan by this time and so she turned to Wade. “I’m just going to smudge you, Wade. Is that all right?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He could flirt with anybody and get away with it. Leandra giggled. “I like a man who’s a good sport.” As she was speaking she was running the smoking stick around his body and up and down his legs. She had to reach up on her tiptoes to get near the top of his head. “My aren’t you a tall drink of water on a hot day.”
Finally, she carried the smoking stick to Gabby. “Evangeline, honey, it’s your turn.”
She wished that Leandra had smudged her first so that she wouldn’t have to stand here like a fish in a smokehouse while Wade watched her with that teasing expression in his eyes. Besides, all that sweet acrid smoke reminded her how desperately she wanted to grab that pack of Players in the back of her drawer and smoke every one of them.