The Beauty and Beast E
A contemporary romance
Copyright 2011 Beate Boeker
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Jill dragged herself up to her apartment. Just one more flight of steps. Thank God the week from hell was over. On Monday, her boss insisted on a hurried research about a range of products from a competitor, then the yearly product presentation threw her in a frenzy, and to top it all off, the annual New York Gift Show, sweltering hot, drained all her remaining energy. But now it was Friday and she was back in Seattle and almost home.
She resisted the urge to grab her right leg and hoist it up the next step. If only her contact lenses wouldn't hurt so much. They had started to make trouble on her flight back from NYC to Seattle, and by now, their edges felt sharp enough to slice into her eyeballs.
With a sigh, she wiped the sweat from her face, stabbed the key into her door, turned it, and almost fell inside. Stuffy air welcomed her in. Scattering her handbag and her shoes on the way, she made a beeline for the bathroom and eased out the offending lenses.
There.
That was better.
With a practiced movement, she pulled the magnifying mirror on her right closer, as far as it's extendable arm would stretch, and stared into it, her nose almost touching the surface.
Bloodshot eyes in a pasty face stared back at her.
Maybe working fourteen hours a day wasn't a good idea.
Jill yanked around the cold water faucet that insisted on getting stuck and washed her face, then stuck out her tongue and lapped up the cool water. New York in August felt like a steam bath. Thank God it was better in Seattle; in fact, it was a perfect night for the barbecue out with Mary and Sue.
Jill toweled off her face.
No. She wouldn't go. She was too exhausted.
She would take a long, cool bath and try on that face mask Mary had given her. According to Mary, that face mask illuminated you from within and made you shine with beauty. Tonight was the right time for a transformation.
She rolled down her panty hose, kicked it into a corner and padded barefooted into the hall to retrieve her cell phone. While punching in Mary's number, she went to the window and flung it wide open. Sweet summer air billowed in. Jill took a deep breath and pulled out the clasp that held back her hair, then shook her head to release the bunched up coil.
"Hi, you've reached Mary's mailbox. Please leave a message."
Jill let out a relieved sigh. Good. Leaving a message was quicker and the answering machine would not talk back.
"Hi Mary, this is Jill. I'm sorry but I'm too exhausted to join in the barbecue tonight. I promise I'll . . . ."
"Jill!"
"Oh." Jill suppressed a sigh. "So you're in?"
"I just came through the door." Mary's voice boomed through the receiver. "What's this about not coming tonight?"
"I'm bushed. I really am." Jill didn't have to fake her weak voice.
"Oh, come on. As soon as you're out, you'll feel better."
Jill gripped the phone between her shoulder and her ear and opened the zipper of her skirt. "Not tonight." She hoped her voice sounded resolute and firm. "I would only be miserable, longing for my bed." She tugged at her skirt.
"Is that your real reason? It's not by any chance that hunky neighbor you have, is it?" Mary demanded.
Jill frowned, dropping the skirt onto the floor. "Who?"
"You know, the guy who moved in last week. Apartment F."
Jill closed her eyes. "Mary, I still think you've seen an apparition when you were here the last time. There's only Mrs. Penny on my left, and you couldn't possibly take her for a hunky man. As to my neighbor in apartment F, whoever he may be, I've never even seen him."
"Oh, well, I just wanted to ask." Mary's voice was cheerful. "He would be a reason to stay in."
"Yeah." Jill muttered, longing for her bath. "You know what, I'll call you tomorrow or Sunday, and we can discuss my invisible neighbor for hours, but not tonight, okay?"
"Only if you manage to get me introduced to Mr. F."
Jill tapped her foot. "I'll shove you through his door the minute he opens it," she promised and hung up.
Flinging the phone onto the sofa, she retreated into the bathroom. It was great fun to be with Mary, but sometimes her men chasing ways tended to be exhausting.
She banged the door shut.
There.
The bathroom was going to be her sanctuary for the next hours. It wasn't exactly a big sanctuary, with just enough room to turn around between the sink and the tub, but it would suffice. She would offer herself a true Wellness Evening. The kind luxury spas advertised.
First rule: Gentle movements.
Second rule: No disturbing thoughts.
In two hours, she would be as good as new. A slow smile spread across her face.
She started by brushing her teeth with leisure, sitting down on the toilet seat and wriggling her toes, glad to be rid of her shoes. Finally, her mouth full of foam, she yanked at the cold water faucet until it released the water with a protesting creak. One day soon, she would have to get a plumber.
Oh. That was against the rules. No disturbing thoughts.
Jill turned away from the troublesome faucet and unbuttoned her blouse, then took off her slip and bra.
Next, a cool, fragrant bath. She watched the water gush into the tub and dropped a capsule of almond oil into the whirl. Guaranteed to give her soft skin, or so the girl at the drugstore had promised.
Just before lowering herself into the tub, she sprinkled some bath salt with rose fragrance on top. The bathroom filled with a sweet smell.
Jill eased herself into the water.
AAAH. With a deep sigh, she leaned her head against the rim and closed her eyes.
An hour later, she had washed her hair and spread a 'luxury conditioner' cure onto it. The description said it would make her hair feel like silk. She hoped it was right. The cream felt like custard in her hands, accompanied by a faint vanilla smell. Jill double-checked the packaging to make sure she had not mistaken a dessert for a hair cure. But no, all was fine. Sticking strictly to the rules on the backside of the packaging, she covered the custard-hair-mix with aluminum foil to enhance the effect and fixed it all with a towel that she tried to turn into an elegant turban. She wanted it to look exactly like the turban of the poised yoga teacher she had seen on TV a week ago. But her turban had different ideas. It wobbled like a fat pudding on top of her head, sliding down whenever she dared to take a breath. After ten aggravating minutes, Jill gave up and fished out a large hair clasp that she jammed on top of the towering structure. It helped.
Now was the time to slab on Mary's face mask. Then she would fix herself a cool drink, put up her feet and feel beauty soaking into every pore of her being.
Jill squeezed the tube--and froze. The stuff was green, light green, and it smelled like . . . She wrinkled her nose and sniffed . . . like earth, no, clay. She turned the tube around and read the description. Maybe she shouldn't trust Mary with stuff that might damage her health.
"This entirely natural product will enhance your beauty," she read aloud. "It will cleanse all pores, giving your skin all the care it needs."
"Hmmm." Jill scratched a spot beneath the turban. "That doesn't sound too dangerous." With a frown, she continued reading. "Spread on your face, leaving out the area around the eyes. Let dry for twenty minutes. Wash off with warm water."
She eyed the green paste once more, then shrugged. "Oh, what the hell." She finished the tube, lavishly spreading the cream on her cheeks and her forehead, down the temples, around her mou
th, covering her chin.
By the time she had finished, the vapor in the bathroom had vanished. Bending down to throw away the empty tube, she happened to glance at the magnifying mirror.
"Oh, my God!"
Her eyes looked redder than ever, surrounded by pale green paste. The turban wobbled on top, giving the monster in the mirror a slightly ridiculous touch.
"My beauty will come out later, I guess," Jill murmured, pulled her bathrobe closer and glided into the living room, holding her head erect to avoid the structure from toppling over.
Now part two of the Wellness Program.
Jill turned on her CD player. Holly Cole. A clear, strong voice. Just like her beauty, emerging soon. Hopefully.
Jill ventured out onto the balcony. The air caressed her bare legs, warm and soft, tempting her to stay outside. But no, it would not do. The new neighbor might spot her and decide to move out again. Mary would never forgive her.
Jill lit several tea-lights and distributed them around the room, then went into the kitchen and fixed herself a cool drink. Orange juice. Campari. Ice.
It was summer. With a contented sigh, she lowered herself onto the sofa and put up her feet.
Why couldn't life