“If this is going to work you need to cut down on the caffeine and chill. I always keep my word.” I stare into his watching blue eyes. “Always.”
He smiles slowly. “Thank you.”
When I start wheeling my suitcase toward the stairs, he jogs down to meet me. “Here. I’ll take care of that for you.” He lifts it with ease.
I follow him up to one of the guest rooms, striving not to trip over my feet as I stare at his firm butt. Holy moly, what a view.
“Why did you pack so much?” he asks, putting the suitcase on the bed. “I told you I’d buy everything you need for the weekend.”
“That’s very generous of you, but maybe too generous, because it made me feel bad. I brought a few things I thought might be worthwhile—”
He waves his hands almost like he’s shooing away a fly or a bee. “No, no. I want to start you fresh. In fact, you have an appointment with Veronica at Bergdorf in twenty minutes.”
My head starts spinning. “You set up an appointment for me at Bergdorf?” I gasp.
“Yes, I have an account there. Veronica is my personal shopper. She has an excellent eye. I’ve already sent her the rundown of what you’ll require. She only needs to see you, take a few measurements, and fit you up with the necessary clothes.”
“You—uh—don’t want to see these things before you pay for them?” I must look completely confused. I certainly feel that way.
He shakes his head. “No. I trust her.” Then he moves forward and ushers me from the room and down the stairs with a firm but gentle hand on the small of my back.
The pressure is light, but I’m keenly aware of his touch.
In a kind of daze, I watch his large hand snake past me and hit the button on the elevator panel. I haven’t had the chance to ask him about putting our agreement in writing yet, but I don’t even know how to broach the subject. I stand there staring at the closed elevator doors.
“Have fun,” he says cheerfully when the doors open. “Enjoy having somebody take care of you for once.”
It’s like he already knows me. How can he make a statement like that and sound so sure of himself, and be so right? “It’s just that I thought you would be coming with me,” I admit. Truth is I’m intimidated by the thought of going on my own.
He grins wolfishly. “I have work to do. Otherwise, I would.”
I step onto the elevator and stop just short of asking why I didn’t go straight to the store instead of stopping at the penthouse. I don’t exactly love the sensation of being shuffled back and forth. Only when the doors are starting to slide shut between us do I get up the nerve to ask, “Should I call if the shopping runs a little long?”
His eyes snap blue fire, but a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “No.”
Then the doors shut on him.
Chapter 15
Dani
“You look gorgeous,” Veronica purrs, walking around me in a slow circle as she taps impeccably manicured, deep red nails against her chin. “Absolutely stunning.”
“Are you sure about that?” I wish I was. I don’t feel stunning at all. If anything, I feel downright exposed. I didn’t know until this very minute that it was possible for a person to feel exposed when so much of their body was covered, but here I am. Sleek, black, with a high collar which fastens around my neck. It’s cut down to the middle of my back, sleeveless, and hits just above my knee. Completely respectable. Classy. Wildly expensive. And unnerving.
“Don’t you like it?” The strident, confident, no-nonsense saleswoman peers at me in the mirror from over my shoulder.
I slide my hands over my stomach and around to my hips, gliding over the lush fabric. It’s like looking at a stranger, but I can feel my body, and my body can feel my hands on it. So it must be me. Just a version of me I’ve never seen before. One I didn’t know existed up until now.
And this is just one dress! There are other dresses for both night and day, skirts, shoes and even pajamas and underwear. Veronica seems to know my body better than just about anybody ever has except for maybe my jerk of an ex-boyfriend.
I turn to check out my profile. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s absolutely gorgeous, but I’m not sure it is me.”
“Not you? Honey, this dress was made for you.”
I frown. I’ve just never dressed like this. I really hope I can carry this glamorous act off successfully.
Suddenly, she places her hands on my shoulders and turns me to face her. She’s old enough to be my mother, I guess, and that combined with the few inches she has on me makes me feel like a little girl. “Do you know what I see in front of me?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“I see a beautiful girl who caught the eye of—between you and me—the sexiest man to walk the streets of Manhattan.” There’s a naughty twinkle in her eyes.
A giggle erupts from me, and I clamp a hand over my mouth. She seems so worldly and sophisticated, I didn’t expect her to be so blunt.
She winks like we’re old friends. After the way she’s measured me and dressed me today, we practically are. “I say, enjoy yourself. Trust me, his eyes will fall out of his head when he sees you in any of the dresses I’ve picked out for you, but especially this one.”
“As much as I’d hate for him to lose his eyes…”
We share a laugh and suddenly, I feel much better.
Once I’m finished dressing in my own clothes, which suddenly looks cheap and shabby, I step out of the dressing room to find her going over the list Brock dictated.
“All right. It looks like this is all of it,” she says to her assistant, a meek and mousy girl who flashes a shy smile at me.
There’s an entire rack of new clothes in front of her. “Wow. It didn’t seem like all that much up until now.”
“You’re a lucky girl.” She smiles, turning to me. “And you know something? A secret, between you and me?”
“Sure.”
She leans in a little, eyes sweeping back and forth as though she’s looking out for eavesdroppers before whispering, “I do a lot of these appointments. Young women come in after their man calls to confirm it’s all right, and I help them pick out clothing and put it on the boyfriend’s account. I have to say, you’re the nicest girl I’ve ever worked with.”
I can’t help feeling a glow of pleasure. “I am?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you’re just not the type I’m used to. You’re sweet and unassuming. It’s nice to see a girl like you land a straight shooter like Mr. Garret. I like him and I’m glad he found such a lovely girl.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m not his girl and that he’s not entirely a straight shooter, seeing as how this is all part of a deception. Besides, it’s flattering. And I need the extra confidence badly. I need to know I can convince Brock’s ex that I’m the sort of girl he would have picked as his girlfriend. “Thank you,” I whisper.
She moves away, all business again. “I’ll have everything rung up for you. Good luck, sweetheart,” she says as her assistant wheels the rack to the registers.
I feel like I should give her a tip or something, but I don’t have that sort of cash on me and I suppose Brock’s taking care of that, too. The sales clerks carefully package everything until there are six bags and three garment bags total. For one weekend? I don’t even want to know what this is all coming to. More than I’d typically make in a year, maybe. It feels obscene to spend that kind of money, but it’s also exhilarating. I have to bite back a silly grin as Tom helps me load everything into the limo before whisking me off to the highrise where Brock is waiting.
“One further thing we didn’t discuss,” Tom calls back as he drives.
“What’s that?”
“Mr. Garret’s generosity.”
“You don’t have to tell me about that.” I laugh. My head’s still spinning with the thought of all the luxurious designer clothes that are now mine. It doesn’t seem real. And part of me thin
ks they’re a waste too, because I’m never going to the kind of fancy places they would look right in. They’re all way too much for a trip to the movies or the mall food court.
He’s not just generous, either. He’s true to his word.
Nothing Veronica chose for me is too revealing or tight. Nothing that makes me physically uncomfortable. Mentally? Ah, that’s another story, but it has nothing to do with the clothing itself. It has to do with me. Even with all the work I’ve done on myself, all the books I’ve read, the seminars I’ve watched, the journaling, the mediation, the different tapping techniques, and every other method I’ve tried to get over the crap in my head from when I was a kid, my self-image is still garbage.
Chapter 16
Dani
“Here we are. I’ll have one of the bellhops help bring the bags upstairs.” Tom gets out of the car to open the door for me, then hurries inside to grab some help.
Again, I have to stop myself from telling him not to bother, that I’ll manage. I need to learn how to accept help. I bet Brock’s ex-girlfriend would never struggle to get all these bags upstairs by herself.
I thank the bellhop for loading everything onto a cart. Should I tip him? Jesus, pretending to be rich is a minefield. He goes inside before I can even open my purse. I exhale loudly and am about to follow him when, out of nowhere, a hand clamps around my upper arm. I barely have time to register who’s manhandling me before he’s in my face.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarls.
“Luke!” And just like that my little fantasy world breaks into half. The cherry on top of my shit sundae.
His eyes are blazing with mad light.
Tom has already pulled away. Even in the middle of a crowded Manhattan sidewalk, I’m suddenly very alone. Except for my ex-boyfriend, squeezing my arm the way he used to when he was really angry for no damn reason.
“I asked you a question, Dani. What do you think you’re doing? Are you living with this guy? Did you move in with him?”
“Wh—who?” I gasp, eyes wide and heart racing a mile a minute. I don’t want him to hit me. Brock will not want a fiancée sporting a shiny black eye. I can’t lose this job. Not for this asshole. All I have to do is keep him calm while I walk backwards. Once I’m inside the building, I don’t think he would dare hit me.
“Don’t ask me who. You know who. I saw you coming out of this place this morning, and I followed you to the store, then back here again. You walked out with half of Bergdorf’s. What’s this guy giving you?” He leans in close.
I can make out the scent of whiskey on his breath. It’s just past noon, and he already smells like he’s half in the bag. His dark eyes burn with rage.
I know that look. “Are you stalking me?”
He gives me a nasty smile. “No, a true stalker doesn’t follow when they already know where you’re going. I was waiting here for you, because I knew you would come back here. I told you before, Dani. Every breath you take, every move you make, I’ll be watching you.”
I freeze with shock. Is that what he’s really been doing these last two months? As I stare at him in shock, he moves his face closer and tries to give me an Eskimo kiss, by rubbing his nose against mine.
“You’re drunk,” I say, and quickly take a step back.
He steps forward.
If I can just keep him talking and stepping forward.
“You haven’t answered my question yet. Are you sleeping with him?”
“Let go of me!” I try to wrench my arm free, but it’s no use. He likes feeling stronger than somebody so much smaller than him. I learned that a long time ago. But in the tussle, I manage two backward steps.
“Are you?”
“I can sleep with whoever I want, Luke. We’re not together.”
“We are together,” he says fiercely, his hand tightening painfully on my arm. “You just wanted some breathing space, and I let you have it, but breathing space doesn’t include whoring around.”
This infuriates me. How many times do I have to repeat that we are freaking finished. I forget my intention to be placating. “I’m a slut, okay,” I shout. “So why don’t you find someone better?”
“You’re not a slut,” he hisses close to my face. “A slut doesn’t do it for money. You’re a fucking whore. You’re selling yourself to him, aren’t you?”
That cuts to the bone, and my face must have gone white, because I can almost feel my blood drain away. My voice shakes. “I don’t need your permission. I’ll sell myself to whoever I please. Now get your stinking hands off me.”
“Hey!” he shouts suddenly. Then his hand is gone from my arm as he’s stumbling and trying to steady himself. A feat he only manages several feet away from me because of the strength with which Brock had shoved him.
“How dare you put your hands on her!” he roars.
In a shocked daze, I stare at Brock. The change in him is unbelievable. I’m almost terrified of him. He looks ready to kill, like an animal just looking for an excuse. He wants Luke to give him an excuse. I can just tell.
He advances on him with both hands in tight fists, tendons showing on the sides of his neck and his nostrils flaring.
“Who are you?” Luke demands.
“I’m the guy you think is buying her, that’s who. I don’t need to ask who you are. You’re a filthy, small-minded little worm who doesn’t understand generosity or kindness. You’re less than nothing.” Brock spits on the ground just by Luke’s feet and sneers at him.
“And you’re the asshole I’m gonna lay out flat!” Luke’s swing is wide, too slow, and way too easy to block.
Brock does just that, throwing up his left arm while he takes a faster, more precise swing with his right. His fist makes contact with Luke’s jaw and sends him sprawling on his back.
I can’t help but let out a little scream, hands over my mouth as he hits the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Brock crouches over him, pulling him up by his jacket collar. His voice is low, menacing, but I can just make it out. “If you ever look at her again. If you ever follow her around. If you ever speak to her, call her, text her, or come within touching distance of her, I swear, I will have you killed and dumped somewhere you’ll never be found. I don’t think anybody would miss you.” Then he casually lets go of his jacket so Luke drops with a thud.
“Did you just threaten to kill me?” Luke gasps, clutching his jaw.
“Yes.” The deadly calm with which he said the word sends a shiver of fear down my spine. He really means it.
“I’ll report you to the police,” Luke threatens wildly.
“Do it,” Brock challenges. “I don’t give damn what you do, just as long as you stay away from her. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes,” Luke whispers. His eyes look like they’re filling with tears as he stares up into Brock’s face in shock. He’s never met a man like him before. His buddies are all boys like him who never grew up, or stopped tapping kegs. Brock is a real man. Powerful in more ways than one. He might not brag about it, but he’ll display it when it counts.
“Now fucking apologize to her.”
Luke looks up at me. His face is full of resentment, but he obeys Brock, “I’m sorry.”
I nod and rub my arm. This is all too surreal.
Brock wipes his palms on his slacks as he turns to face me. Concern replaces rage. “Are you all right?”
“Mm-hmm.” I’m still too overwhelmed to speak.
“Come on. Let’s go up.” He wraps a protective arm around my shoulders and we walk side-by-side into the building.
I don’t know what brought him outside, but I’m just so grateful he came. His arm is comforting. A reminder of how far he’s willing to go to protect me. He hit Luke for me. He hurt him for hurting me. And then threatened to kill him. Nobody has ever fought my battles for me before this.
I think I’m beginning to like Brock Garret. A lot.
Chapter 17
Dani
After that scene this afternoon, I’m not sure how to act around him.
After making sure I was okay, he suddenly took a step back from me, his body tense.
“What?” I asked him.
He shook his head and went back to work in the little study just off the living room.
Confused, I went up to my room and put my new clothes away.
A long soak in the tub, just like I’d promised myself I’d do if I ever had the chance, and a long nap made me feel like a new woman. I look at the bruise on my arm. It doesn’t look good. Which reminds me that I need to do something about my hands. They look like working hands. I’ll find a manicurist tomorrow.
I pick out the only woolen sheath dress from my new wardrobe. Everything we chose is better suited to Nevada weather than it is to November in New York. Low heels, thank goodness. I’m terrible in stilettos. A lot of fun I’d be in Vegas with a broken ankle. Although, I guess we could always say I did it while skiing or something equally glamorous. Do they ski in November? I have no idea.
“You’re gonna be fine,” I whisper to myself. Even though I still don’t have anything in writing and I have no idea what I’m really getting myself into.
I sit at the mirror and start to put on my makeup. What a treat, having enough counter space for it, my curling iron and hair dryer instead of balancing it all while trying not to burn my hands off. I could get used to this sort of life. Who wouldn’t?
He must have heard me coming down the stairs because he comes out of the living room and waits for me in the hallway.
The sight of him makes my heart skip a beat. He looks just as delectable as he did last night, this time wearing a black turtleneck and jacket. Black seems to be his signature color. It works well for him, setting off his eyes, which seem to glow like blue fire as he follows my progress down the stairs.
Kissing Booth Page 7
