I bought them.
She then whisked me back to my hotel, ordering me to put on my bathing suit and sit by the pool, “Because, ma chérie, your glow is lovely but that dress, we need gold.” Then she assured me she’d be back and she took off.
While I spent time deep breathing at the pool, she called me and told me I’d have a visitor and I did. And, get this, right beside the pool, a woman showed up, sat beside then at the foot of my lounger on a low stool and took off my bright, summery, berry pink finger and toenail polish I’d had my nails adorned with just the day before and painted my fingers and toes a peachy gold that was gorgeous and would go freaking beautifully with my dress and, better, my shoes.
I didn’t even pick the color. Celeste did.
Seriously, she was the shit.
While lying in the sun, hoping I was going gold, I tried not to think about the fact that I was going out on a date with Sampson Cooper.
And I tried hard to achieve this feat.
And failed.
I also tried to stop myself from calling and/or texting Paula, Teri and my other friend, Missy (who was not a Sampson Cooper devotee, as such, she appreciated him, as any woman would, but she had a different stock of famous hot guys she obsessed about, still, she was my friend) to tell them about this astonishing turn of events.
I tried hard with this too and, luckily, I succeeded.
I succeeded mostly because part of me didn’t think it would actually happen. He’d stand me up. Or something better would come along and he’d send a note to say he couldn’t make it. I didn’t want to tell them this was happening, have them freak in a good way, as in, I’d probably hear them scream all the way from Indiana, that kind of good way, and then have to tell them it didn’t happen.
So I didn’t call or text.
What I did was nurse my nerves until they became panic.
Luckily, before my panic escalated and I became paralyzed or did something equally stupid, like run away, Celeste showed, whisked me back to my room and into the shower. By the time I did my business in the shower, taking more care with every aspect of that daily occurrence than I ever had in my life, even on my wedding day, it was after six. I walked into my room folded in a robe with a towel wrapped around my hair and Celeste had a bottle of champagne in a bucket on ice and an enormous antipasti platter waiting.
I stared at the platter then moved my stare to Celeste. “Sam told me not to eat, there’d be a spread.”
“Indeed,” she inclined her head, “but a lady does not arrive at a party famished, and, chérie, you’ve had no lunch,” she reminded me then went on, “and then commence in devouring every morsel available to her all the while drinking and becoming intoxicated quickly because she has nothing in her stomach. She sips champagne. She nibbles. Food, she can take or leave. Champagne, she drinks like its nothing more than water. She is beautiful and enchanting because she’s beautiful and enchanting and gorging on hors d’ouevres and guzzling champagne are not beautiful or enchanting.” She tipped her head to the platter. “Eat, Kia, every bit.”
I saw the wisdom in this and ate every bit while drinking champagne. This wasn’t easy either since my stomach was tied up in knots but I knew one thing for certain, Celeste had it going on and she was sharing her worldly ways with me so I did it.
The hair dresser and makeup artist showed when the hotel guy took away the empty plates. This, Celeste also arranged. I did not quibble mainly because I had to admit that I wasn’t all that hot with doing either. I didn’t look like a clown or skank when I was done with my makeup and I could make my hair look decent but I had one way to go, the blowout. Sam had seen that twice and my dress was not a dress you wore with your hair blown straight, it was a dress you wore with your hair looking hot.
It took an hour but was worth every minute when the stylist curled every strand of hair then pulled it softly back from my face and arranged it at my nape in a thick, wide, beautiful mess of tucked and pinned curls. The makeup artist went golden, more than likely at Celeste’s command, including dusting a hint of gold powder along my collarbone. Her handiwork highlighted my tan in a way I never would have been able to pull off if I was doing it myself; I wouldn’t have even thought to try.
Then they left, I put on my white, lace panties (another Parisian purchase, they cost more than the contents of my whole underwear drawer at home and they weren’t the only pair I bought) and Celeste instructed me on the proper use of perfume.
“Your scent does not precede you, it also doesn’t define you. Any scent you wear is a discovery.”
This made no sense to me so I asked, “A discovery?”
She smiled a small, very cool smile and said softly, “Yes, Kia, a discovery. The kind of discovery your partner, if he is very fortunate, makes when his nose encounters the flesh the scent adorns.” At her imparting this nugget of wisdom, a nugget I not only processed in my brain but three other parts of my body besides, I made not a peep and stared at her so she went on, “A touch behind the ears, at the wrists, behind the knees and at the cleavage… a touch, half a spray if it is spray or just a dab if it is not.”
My mind became consumed with Sam’s nose being in any of those places so it took Celeste’s rich, cultured laughter to snap me out of it.
I did the half the spray route for that was all that was available to me.
Then I pulled on my dress. It was white, one shoulder bare, it fit like it was made for me down my torso to the very tops of my thighs then it dropped into a full skirt to my ankles, the clingy, silk jersey hanging and moving beautifully around my legs but, the best part, it had a deep slit just to one side and up to the upper thigh that exposed my legs in an awesome way when I moved and, better, the inside hem was embroidered intricately and subtly with gold thread.
Told you it was awesome.
I strapped on my shoes and Celeste pulled a pristine white evening clutch with a gold clasp out of her bag and tossed it on the bed beside me. Then she lifted my right hand and slid a dozen very slim gold bangles on my wrist. Then she handed me a pair of tiered gold earrings sprinkled with tiny pearls.
After I put them in my ears, her hand came out, she gently touched my earlobe with the tip of her finger, my head went back, my eyes went to her and she spoke softly.
“Nothing at your neck, your lovely collarbone is enough. A touch, only a hint, of everything. An intriguing woman does not share her secrets in any way. She does not speak of them, she does not give them away through her manner and she definitely does not make the mistake of giving them away through her appearance.”
Well, if that was the case, blurting the information about Cooter being murdered within a few minutes of knowing Sam was an even bigger mistake than I thought it was and I already thought it was a doozie.
I did not share this with Celeste. Instead, I looked into her unusual eyes, eyes the like I’d never seen, a light brown with hints of blue, her perfect skin touched with sun but not brown, leathery and wrinkled, her dark hair that was worn casually in a stylish cut that suited her heart-shaped face and I informed her quietly, “Sam doesn’t like playing games. I’ve been around him twice and he’s already made that pretty clear.”
To this, Celeste’s already warm, kind eyes got warmer and kinder. They also grew knowing and she reached out and took my hand, holding it in both of hers between us.
Then she spoke gently, “My darling Kia, behind your eyes you hold secrets, more than any woman I’ve ever seen. For any woman, but I suspect for you especially, a man must prove he deserves the honor of you sharing those secrets. No woman should ever make the mistake of sharing any of her secrets with a man who does not prove he deserves to have them. I think, ma chérie,” her hand squeezed mine and her voice dropped lower, “you have already learned this.”
Her words affected me so deeply I felt my eyes fill with tears and I was speechless, staring up at her and holding her hand tightly.
Because she was right. She was so right and at that moment I wis
hed I knew her ten years ago, before I gave all my secrets away to Cooter.
“Make him work to unlock your secrets, my Kia,” she whispered. “Do not accept another man in your life who does not rise to that challenge and do it gallantly.”
Wow, she got me. She totally got me. She knew, I had no idea how, but she knew.
And she understood.
And in that moment, I fell in love with Celeste Masterson.
I also nodded.
She bent toward me and kept advising. “I caution you to understand, at the same time I tell you this, whatever you’ve been doing has brought you to this moment. So be yourself, just don’t give yourself unless you’re certain he deserves that gift. Do you understand me, ma chérie?”
I nodded again even though I kind of didn’t.
She smiled, squeezed my hand in hers and straightened, letting me go.
“He’s due in twenty minutes. We’ll share another glass of champagne to help you relax,” she announced. “I’ll pour while you sort your evening bag.”
I nodded again. She moved to the champagne. I twisted on the bed and started sorting my evening bag. She came back with the champagne flute and I stood, taking it from her.
Then I whispered, “Today, everything, the manicure, the girls, my jewelry, I don’t…” I hesitated then forged on. “Thank you.”
She smiled and tipped her head slightly to the side.
Then she whispered back, “You cannot know, ma chérie, but some other time I will explain why, but being with you today, it has been my deep pleasure.”
I held her eyes, concerned at her words but sensing she needed me to let them go for now. So I did.
Instead, I lifted my flute, she lifted hers and we smiled at each other while we clinked.
Five minutes before Sam was due, after a long, close, warm hug, Celeste left.
And when she left, I felt certain I could do this.
That was fifteen minutes ago and, without Celeste, I was a wreck. First I was a wreck because the time was nigh. Then I was a wreck because the time was slightly past nigh. And now I was a wreck because he was ten minutes late and that was getting to the point of well past nigh.
I was stopping myself from spraying on more perfume just for something to do, I had just refreshed my lip gloss from the tube the makeup girl left me and I was looking in the mirror not seeing me.
I was thinking that life had somehow brought me to this pass and, without Celeste with me, I forgot how to pretend that this was me. Instead, I remembered who I was and felt through to my bones that I was an imposter.
And maybe, as the seconds ticked by making ten minutes eleven, Sampson Cooper had figured that out.
I moved from the mirror to the window and stared at the view, forcing my mind to Celeste and the fact that I had not paid one penny for any of the things she’d arranged that day (except, of course, my shoes) and making a mental note to phone her as soon as possible the next day to talk to her about paying her back when there was a knock on the door.
My head snapped to the door.
Holy cow, he’d showed.
Holy cow, he was out there.
Holy cow, I was going out on a date with Sampson Cooper!
Shit!
Okay, now I didn’t want him to be out there, I didn’t want to do this because I didn’t want him to find out I actually was an imposter.
Shit!
I stared at the door. Then I realized I had to go open it.
Shit.
I moved across the room, deep breathing, and, since there was no peephole in the door, I set the chain (you couldn’t be too careful and you should never be stupid, I’d learned that the hard way), opened it and looked out.
It was Sam.
“Hey,” I said swiftly then shut the door, quickly slid off the chain and opened it. “Sorry, have to be safe.”
He didn’t answer and I didn’t notice. I was a flurry of nervous energy.
Therefore, I turned from him and strode across the room so fast my skirt flew out behind me, stating, “I’m ready. Just need to grab my bag.”
I bent to the bed, picked up my bag, shoving in the lip gloss I noticed had rolled out and clasping the gold clasp before straightening at the same time I turned.
And when I turned, my shoulder and arm brushed something very hard and very solid.
My head tipped back to see Sam in my room, right there as in right there.
I froze.
Sam did not.
One of his arms slid along my waist and pulled in and it kept doing that until our hips and bellies were brushing. Once he accomplished this and as I was focusing all my energies on not panting and having difficulty with this endeavor considering my brain was focusing all its energies on the exquisite feeling of my belly and hips brushing Sam’s, his hand came up, fingers curling around my neck, thumb out and sweeping my jaw.
His head was tipped down, his eyes on me. They were warm, like I’d noticed several times before. They were also intent, again like I’d noticed before. But they were something else, something that made my stomach pitch, my nipples tingle and heat rush to my cheeks.
Oh my God. I was in danger of either passing out and/or having an orgasm just from this!
“Hi,” he whispered a rough-like-velvet whisper on a jaw brush of his thumb and my legs trembled so badly, my hands automatically lifted to hold onto his also very hard and very solid biceps to stop myself from going down.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
“Sorry I’m late,” he kept whispering, his thumb kept stroking and my legs kept trembling.
“That’s okay.” I also was still whispering.
His eyes moved down to my mouth, my neck, down to my chest then up, slow and lazy and he didn’t release me and his thumb never quit moving. This meant my legs never quit trembling, my stomach pitched again and I felt another tingle, this one lower and way, way better.
Then he murmured, “Fool.”
I blinked.
Then I asked, “Sorry?”
Sam didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Baby, I don’t know what you’re like in bed but if it’s even half the promise of you, your man was a fucking fool.”
My fingers clutched his biceps, the ones still holding my bag digging painfully into the clasp and I felt my lips part.
Holy cow, did he just say that?
Holy cow! Did he just say that?
“Did you just say that?”
Yes, that was what came out of my mouth and it was both lucky and unfortunate it did because it broke the spell and I didn’t want the spell broken but also, if I was going to keep my secrets and all my gifts, the spell had to be broken or I was in imminent danger of jumping his bones and I suspected doing something like that would give it all away and Celeste would be disappointed.
I didn’t want to disappoint Celeste. But I also knew she was far from stupid, she got me and, even if this was Sampson Cooper and I was Kia Clementine, every word of advice she gave me was one hundred percent right so I had to follow it.
To the letter.
The spell was broken when his lips twitched, his thumb stopped moving but his fingers at the side of my neck gave a gentle squeeze before he answered, “Yeah, I just said that.”
“Okey dokey,” I muttered and his lip twitch became a grin. Then, for sanity’s sake and so I wouldn’t fall back and give into the urge of ripping his clothes off, I asked, “Are we going to stand here all night or are you going to take me somewhere I can show off my dress?”
To that, he replied, “We stand her much longer, we won’t be standing so yeah, I’m gonna take you somewhere you can show off that fuckin’ gorgeous dress.”
Before I could fully react to what his words implied or his compliment, he let me go, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door. He stopped us in the hall so he could test the handle to make certain it locked upon catching then he pulled me down the hall.
It was then I finally noticed what he was wearing.
He wa
s in a tuxedo which looked good on him and fit well. I was no expert but it fit him so well, I figured it had to be made for him. And I’d had my hands on his jacket, the material was not anything the like I’d ever touched before. It was nicer in a way I couldn’t describe but definitely nicer and I knew it had to be expensive.
The cool part was, he was wearing a black shirt, no tie at all, the shirt opened at his throat.
Still, even without that accoutrement, the suit and shirt were so well made, he wore them with a natural confidence that was magnetic; they seemed more formal than if he had on a white shirt and bowtie.
I couldn’t say in my past two times with him that I’d noticed his clothes at all. I also couldn’t say I’d spent much time the years I obsessed and fantasized about him I’d noticed them either. I was too busy noticing the beautiful male perfection of his features, the even more beautiful male perfection of his smile and the rough-like-velvet beauty of his voice.
But striding beside him with my hand engulfed in his big, strong one, I noticed that, even as a tall, very built man the like who could seem ungainly due to their size, he totally rocked his clothes in a way that was super cool because he didn’t look like he was trying to rock his clothes. In fact, even wearing a tuxedo, he didn’t look like he cared at all.
And more, he had a masculine grace when he moved that probably had to do with him being an athlete and highly trained and skilled soldier. But even with these things, this was a surprise, men of his build, again, often seemed lumbering.
Not Sam.
And let me just tell you, it was hot.
All of it.
While Sam guided me down the hall and stairs, he didn’t speak. What I noticed he did do was walk slowly. A man his height with legs as long as his definitely could take twice the amount of ground with each stride than he was taking and I knew he was doing this for me, my shorter legs and my feet wearing delicate, high-heeled sandals.
This was another indication of his graciousness, not a word, not a show, he just did it, thoughtful, sweet and that settled in my soul too.
Then out the door we went, across the front of the hotel and down four cars, he turned us and stopped me at the passenger side of a bright yellow Lamborghini.