She cleansed, toned, and moisturized her face with her new skin care products until her skin felt smoother and softer than she’d ever thought possible. Then she applied her own lilac scented lotion to every inch of her body. The imported lotion had been one of the only luxuries she’d always allowed herself, no matter what, always tossing the receipt before the bag ever reached home to prevent Ed from knowing how much she’d spent.
Unwrapping her hair, she combed through it with a wide-toothed comb. Then she applied spray gel the way Tony had; scrunching her hair under a heat lamp in the ceiling she’d finally found the switch for. In a few minutes natural waves started to form.
Finally it was time to begin working on her face. Painstakingly she applied thin layers of foundation with a sponge; the creamy liquid went on like silk, evening out her skin tone until it looked flawless and perfect. The dark circles under her eyes disappeared along with the sprinkle of freckles that, no matter how faithfully she kept a hat on, appeared every summer.
Blush—in a peachy color she never would have picked—came next. She sucked in her cheeks and applied color with a fluffy, oversized brush, exactly as she’d been shown. She even dabbed a bit between her breasts, something Sara had said she’d done ever since she’d read it in Cosmo.
Setting powder came next; using another new brush she dusted it all over her face. Finally, the careful application of eye liner and five different eye shadows. She was glad she’d asked the makeup artist for a sketch of what color to put where.
Lash builder, then two coats of black mascara. Her eyes looked huge. And lovely. And not like her.
Perfect.
Not looking like herself made her feel like she could really pull it off. That she could actually become one of the women Jake was used to. She smiled at her reflection—her new face came with the added bonus of instant courage.
Now, the dress.
As she zipped open the garment protector to pull the dress out, she saw a satin bag looped over the hanger. She pulled out the dress and hung it on a hook, then took the satin bag off the hanger. Inside she found a strapless bra-and-panty-set and a small card.
Compliments of The White Lily—enjoy!
Cory shrugged off her robe and put on her new lingerie. It felt delicious; silk-lined white lace caressed her body instead of the cotton she’d normally be wearing and she felt a chill run up her spine and down her arms.
The transformation was almost complete.
She stepped into her gown, zipped up, and turned toward the mirrored wall.
She hardly recognized herself.
After a final fluff of her hair, the application of her new lipstick, she slipped on her shoes and packed the tiny matching evening purse with some essentials for the evening.
It was done.
Time for the princess to get into her carriage.
A meow massages the heart.
Stuart McMillan
Chapter 10
When the elevator doors opened to the lobby of Jake’s building and Cory stepped out, in front of her was a handsome elderly man dressed in a red, long-tailed coat, black top hat, and thick white cotton gloves.
“Good evening, madam. I am Chas.”
He bowed smartly, then straightened and extended his hand to her. His eyes sparkled when his gaze met hers. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”
“Cory Wells.” Cory reached out her hand.
“Ah, yes. Master Randall has asked me to see to your transportation needs.” He squeezed her fingers lightly, then smoothly wrapped her arm around his elbow to escort her through the huge lobby.
She took in a deep breath. First test...get through the lobby in one piece.
Clusters of people gathered in the large room which featured a busy bar area where happy hour was in full swing. As she walked by heads turned and she heard conversations cease for a few seconds. Raising her chin just a bit, she dared to meet some of the stares, willing a sweet smile on her lips so maybe they’d wonder if she was someone they should recognize. So what if her mouth was desert dry and perspiration was beading on her upper lip. Be mysterious. Be alluring.
Chas squeezed her arm protectively, and she saw him give the gawkers a stern glare. His fatherly gesture helped relieve some of the internal pressure that threatened to explode through her pretense of confidence.
No matter what the evening before her held, she was more than grateful to Chas. On his arm, she felt like royalty.
As they walked outside to the black limousine waiting at the sidewalk, people quickly stepped out of the way as though Chas had parted the seas. She glimpsed two career women in linen suits whispering behind cupped hands.
They really thought she was somebody.
Good. First test, passed. The illusion was working just fine.
Cory took her time getting into the car, gathering her skirt and carefully arranging it around her on the wide leather seat.
“Anything else, Miss Cory?”
“I’m fine, and thank you for the walk through the lobby.”
“The pleasure was mine, I assure you. May I wish you a magical evening?” His controlled expression relaxed into one of pure delight.
“I’m counting on it, Chas.”
He rewarded her with a grin that crinkled his eyes and displayed deep dimples she imagined he worked hard to keep hidden. “I’m sure your wishes have been heard, my dear, and may I say you look stunning. Mr. Randall is fortunate to have you at his side this evening.”
She smiled back, then the doorman gently closed the door and spoke to the driver for a moment before heading back to his post. As she watched him through the tinted glass, he turned around and tipped his hat to her.
The car’s interior was lit by the soft glow of rope lights along the floor and small, frosted glass sconces on the walls. Brandy snifters lined recessed shelves and wine glasses hung from their stems in wooden brackets. Crystal decanters filled with amber-colored liquids were secured in a pocket of the middle panel of the interior wall.
This was how the other half lived. Luxury. Carefree. Spoiled, she added.
But, for one night...for one night it was magic. And she was the other half.
The ride was short to the Sheraton. The car slowed and slipped into a space in front of the door. The hotel’s doorman—rather blandly dressed in a plain tuxedo, compared to Chas—raced to open her door.
Taking in a quick breath she stepped out of the car. Cameras were thrust through the crowd and several flashes followed as she walked the burgundy carpet and into the safety of the hotel.
There, another tuxedoed man asked if she was attending the Pathfinders event, explaining the party was in the ballroom on the top floor of the hotel and an express elevator was standing by.
Cory joined two other women in the elevator. One wore a slinky, red silk floor-length dress, the other a tiny black skirt with a strapless sequined top that barely concealed her breasts.
The car zoomed upward, leaving Cory’s stomach at her feet and really disturbing the butterflies she tried hard to ignore.
“You meeting your husband here too?” red dress asked her.
“Oh, no—a friend who works at Think Tank.”
“Honey, looking like that,” black-mini added, “he’d better keep you within reach at all times or he certainly won’t be leaving with you. Where did you ever find that dress? It’s exactly what I was looking for and couldn’t find.”
Cory studied both faces, quickly deciding the women were sincere. “The White Lily, actually. It’s a boutique in Green Bay.”
“Really. I thought I knew all the obscure boutiques. I’ll remember that one.”
The doors opened and Cory placed her hand on her stomach to steady herself. She could hear the music of a jazz band even through the din of conversation from the crowds of people who spilled outside the ballroom and stood in the foyer. Everyone was happily chatting, men shaking hands and slapping backs as they worked the room, along with a few carefully suited women executives do
ing the same. Dates and wives admired each other’s dresses and bowed their heads to whisper things they didn’t want the men to hear.
Spying a sign for the ladies lounge, Cory slipped through the crowd to go freshen up. Or find a place to spend the evening if she lost her nerve.
No. The evening was guaranteed to be magical...per Chas, anyway...and now she had a part to play. She was Jake’s...what? Date? Friend? Companion?
None of the words suited her and she wondered how he would introduce her. Let him put the label on whatever it was she was going to be tonight. Dabbing fresh powder on her face, she touched up her lipstick and consciously left her old self in the bathroom behind her.
She pushed open the bathroom door to see a much emptier foyer; people were moving into the ballroom and she scooted into place at the back of the crowd. She paused at the doorway to scan the room, looking for Jake.
The ballroom was decorated as though she had stepped back in time. Jake had mentioned he thought the party’s theme had something to do with a forties nightclub. He was right.
Instead of the sterile ten-person round tables typical for an event of this kind, intimate tables for four were scattered around the perimeter of a large dance floor. Each table was draped with a black cloth; a candle lamp was positioned so light flickered on a small round mirror below it, and the china was of an old-fashioned pattern, not the usual hotel-banquet-white. The jazz band was situated on a raised platform, its members dressed in white suits, fedoras, and dark glasses.
Jake took in a deep breath, then checked his bowtie for the umpteenth time, making sure it was straight, then stepped out of the group of Think Tank managers and turned toward the door. A woman stood alone in the doorway, the glow of an overhead spotlight creating the most fantastic effect on her wavy hair.
Her dress was pale, but from the distance he wasn’t sure what color. The bare skin of her arms and shoulders shimmered.
Who was she?
He willed his feet forward and pushed his lips into an easy smile. The closer he got, the more relieved the woman looked; even raising her hand in a little wave to him, a warm smile growing on her lips. Did she know him?
She was stunning. And he was willing to bet she had no idea every eye was on her as he approached.
When he reached her, he blinked, then stopped in front of her, feeling suddenly tongue-tied and extremely stupid to have not recognized Cory. God, she was beautiful.
But, she was different...so very different than when he’d left her mere hours ago.
“Hi,” she said, her forehead furrowing. “You okay?”
“It’s just that...you look amazing in that dress. Do you have any idea? I’m going to lean forward and kiss your cheek since everyone is watching—that okay?”
She nodded and he leaned forward to brush his lips against her cheek. When his mouth touched her satiny skin he had to force himself to keep from tracing a trail of kisses down her neck. Would her skin be even softer in that place behind her ear?
He banished the thoughts, reminding himself exactly who he was kissing. Get a grip; this is Cory...remember? He pushed his emotions another level deeper where he hoped like crazy they would stop giving him so much trouble. She’d come as a favor. That was it. That’s what he had to remember.
Close to her, the familiar scent of lilacs filled the air. He was growing accustomed to the way she smelled, liking the familiarity. As he moved his lips close to her ear, instead of saying the words his heart felt, he whispered, “You clean up real nice, Nurse Cory,” then stepped back to watch her cheeks color.
On cue, they filled with a rosy pink and she wrinkled her nose at his teasing. Good, he was back in control.
“And where have you been keeping this beauty?”
Jake turned to see Rod standing almost at his elbow and he took a sideways step away from him. The man had no sense of personal space; probably thought it was a form of intimidation.
“Cory Wells...Rod Thomas, an associate at Think Tank.
Rod took Cory’s hand and then kissed her fingers in what he obviously thought was a suave gesture.
“Oh, we’ve met,” Cory said with a coy smile.
“Now I’m sure I would have remembered meeting...someone like you.”
Jake crossed his arms to wait and see if she was headed where he thought she might be going. Careful, Cory. This one plays by a whole new set of rules.
“But we chatted so recently on the phone,” she prompted as she offered Jake a quick glance, then pulled her lips into a little pout.
He nodded his approval. Could be entertaining if she kept the upper hand. And he had a feeling she would.
“You’re sure?” Rod asked, his voice sounding intrigued.
“Quite sure. Though I think you might have been having a bad day.”
“How so?”
Jake saw a tiny jaw muscle twitch in Rod’s face. Go for the kill, Cory. He’s getting nervous.
“I’m afraid you told me the wrong time for the gala, Rod; but I confirmed the information. And it seems Jake’s speech didn’t really need to be checked out for tonight, now did it.” She stated it as fact, giving him no way to save face.
Jeez, girl, nothing like confronting the enemy head on.
Rod’s face paled nicely, and he turned on his heel to slither away. Jake didn’t really blame him. What could the man say?
“God. Jake. I don’t know what got into me—should I go apologize?”
“Hell, no.” He chuckled as he watched Rod take a seat at a table with a buxom blonde and another familiar looking couple he couldn’t quite recognize in the dim light, but he had a nasty feeling one of Rod’s tablemates was someone from Stuart Enterprises.
“You’re sure there won’t be some kind of fall-out?”
“Who cares? No, I like the fact that you probably just took ten years off his life calling him on his lie. If you keep this up, they’ll be falling like flies.”
“But, I didn’t mean to—”
“Nonsense. Who’s he going to tell?
She considered his question. “No one, I guess. What a jerk. And it’s no wonder he didn’t leave a message on your cell phone that day. Now it all makes sense. He couldn’t afford to leave proof of his underhandedness. What a snake.”
He nodded. “Try to enjoy the moment, Cory. You just had one of the juicy ones that don’t come along often enough where you say just the right thing. I enjoyed every bit of it. If you weren’t so dressed up, I’d make you give me a high five.”
Her eyes searched his, then he watched her relax, relief finally replacing the fear that she’d done some terrible thing.
“Hope you’re hungry; come with me Ms. Barracuda. Our table awaits.”
***
The meal was delectable and so beautifully presented it was a shame to disturb the plate to eat. Cory mentally filed away the unusual mixture of baby greens, pears, and nuts of the salad, wondering what ingredients had gone into the light dressing. The filet mignon was fork tender, with fresh asparagus and a cream sauce to die for, and baby red potatoes seasoned with some kind of magical blend of spices. Could potatoes really taste like that?
The other couple at the table were vegetarian, and even their meal of pasta primavera looked wonderful. The man was a lower level manager at Think Tank; his wife was quiet, only speaking if her husband drew her into the conversation. Is that what all the corporate wives were like?
Throughout dinner, other Think Tank employees stopped by the table to say hello to Jake, to mention how well projects were going that he undoubtedly had assigned to them.
After what seemed like a parade of employees finally dwindled, she whispered in his ear, “Brown-nosing the boss.” His clean scent pleasantly tickled her nose and she closed her eyes for a quick moment. She wanted to remember exactly what he smelled like. She wanted to remember every single moment of the evening.
He took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, whispering back, “What they really want is to figure out who
you are...The Mystery Woman.”
She searched his dancing eyes, trying to decide what he was feeling. Back in Faythe, after he’d shared his secret with her, they’d fallen into a comfortable, teasing repartee while they worked on his speech; now she suddenly realized she couldn’t be sure when he was being completely serious.
“Jake—”
Before she could continue, someone at the podium tapped a fork against a crystal goblet. Jake whispered to her that the man was the president and CEO of Pathfinders. He spoke passionately about the organization while a fast-paced PowerPoint presentation flashed on a huge screen that had lowered from the ceiling so it was positioned just above his head.
She leaned over to Jake. “No wonder your secretary wanted the company to sponsor them. What a great organization.”
They both joined in the applause at the end of his presentation.
“And next, please help me welcome Jake Randall, who is here tonight to say a few words about our largest corporate sponsor, Think Tank.”
Jake gave Cory’s hand a squeeze, then left the table to take his position at the podium.
***
Jake’s presentation was flawless and to Cory he seemed completely at ease in front of his peers—plus one snake named Rod—and a room full of people he didn’t know. From what he’d told her throughout dinner, the room was filled with politicians, the social elite of Chicago, and even a few television personalities.
And there he stood, smiling at the crowd, making the history and accomplishments of Think Tank sound like he was telling you the long awaited final chapter of a story you were dying to here.
He was simply amazing. No wonder he’d come so far in the company. He had found his niche. The perfect man in the perfect job.
When he’d finished, the audience laughed heartily at his ending line—just as he’d hoped. When everyone applauded, she watched as the president of Pathfinders gestured for Jake to have a seat on stage at the table next to the podium.
Homecoming Page 12
