by Carew, Amber
Suddenly, she remembered why she was sitting here. How could Vanessa have nurtured even a small hope that something could work between them? She’d discouraged him and he’d given up. It was as simple as that. She simply wasn’t worth the effort or the time to convince otherwise.
Soon, about twenty gorgeous women stood lined up in front of them wearing the most stunning gowns Vanessa had ever seen.
"Hmm. I’m not sure." Nick said, tapping his lips with his finger. "What do you think, Vanessa?"
"They’re all fabulous."
Nick gestured to one of the women, in electric blue, neck-to-ankle sequins, and she stepped forward, turning in front of them to show off the gown. Clusters of matching crystals adorned her ears and spike heels made her unbelievably long legs seem endless.
"What do you think of that?"
"It’s great, but…."
"Too much?" He smiled and nodded. The woman returned to the line-up. "What about the pink?"
The ‘pink’ was a rose-colored dress with a form-fitting bodice embroidered with sequins and bugle beads. The short sleeves puffed from the off-the-shoulder neckline like cotton candy and the mid-calf length skirt flared out at the hip. When the model twirled, it spun out in an iridescent cloud.
"It’s very pretty."
"But?"
"Nick, I can’t pick a gown for another woman, especially if I don’t know anything about her."
"Just choose the dress as if it was for you."
"I don’t know."
"Relax. I’m sure she’ll love whatever you choose." He scanned at the row of designer gowns again. "You know, I’d love to see you in that lace number."
The model moved forward and Vanessa felt her face flush. The ‘lace number’ was black, body-hugging, and very tiny. It looked to be no more than a slip. It barely covered the essentials and Vanessa couldn’t imagine wearing it as lingerie, let alone all by itself.
"No. What I really like is the green one," she said. The brilliant jade-colored dress, strapless, hugged the model’s body to the knee, then flared out dramatically. Vanessa had always loved mermaid-style dresses. They seemed to personify glamour, and this one was no exception. The model moved forward and sunlight glittered off the rhinestones trimming the fabric along the top of the breasts and around the crest of the full skirt.
"I like that. Why don’t you go try it on?"
She looked at it dubiously. The model had the height and grace to pull it off, but Vanessa wasn’t sure she’d do it justice.
"Why don’t you pick out a couple of others and try them, too, just so we’ll have a selection?"
Reluctantly, she pointed out the rose dress, a purple, and a red one.
The saleslady led her to a lavish change room, with a couch and a huge three-way mirror.
"Will Mr. Powers be joining you?" she asked Vanessa.
"In here? No," she squeaked.
Another woman brought the dresses and hung them on the rack by the mirror. She noticed the woman hang up the lace dress with the rest, even though that hadn’t been one of her choices. Vanessa tried on the green one first and was delighted to see it didn’t look too outrageous on her. In fact, she felt rather glamorous in it.
"Stunning," Nick proclaimed when she emerged.
She glanced at herself in the mirror, examining every angle, critically inspecting the back. "You don’t think it’s too…?" She snapped her mouth shut, remembering that the dress was not for her, but for Nick’s Friday night date.
Nick smiled, examining the same part of her anatomy that she assessed, his gaze sending frothing heat tickling through her. "No, I don’t think it’s ‘too’ anything. It’s absolutely perfect."
She tried each of the dresses in turn, except the black lace, and Nick exclaimed over all of them.
"Don’t forget the other one," he reminded her when she started toward the dressing room after showing him the last of her choices.
"Other one?"
"You know which one I mean." A wicked light glinted in his eyes.
She pointed toward the change room. "Nick, I am not coming out here in that scrap of lace. It’s … it’s almost indecent."
"No, it’s not. It’s just delightfully sexy."
So was Nick’s devil-may-care grin. She frowned and plunked her hands on her hips. "I’m not modeling it for you."
He spread his hands wide in a gesture of capitulation. "Okay, how about this. Put it on and see how it fits. You don’t have to leave the change room. Hilda will let me know how it looks."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"So I’ll know if it’ll fit my date."
"Oh … yes, of course." She had forgotten. In the excitement of trying on all the glamorous dresses, she’d forgotten she was simply a mannequin, a convenient body that matched his date’s shape.
She tugged it on and the saleslady raved about it. Vanessa examined herself in the mirror and a shocked, extremely provocative, reflection stared back at her. Feeling unusually wicked, she wished she had the courage to push open the door and strut out in front of Nick. Maybe she could convince him that he wanted her and not that other, nameless woman he’d been shopping for.
Which was foolish. Nothing had changed. He might not be dating Amy as she’d feared, but the fact remained that they were far too different. He was champagne and tuxedos, and she was soft drinks and jeans. He wanted an aggressive career woman who liked to party, she considered her job just a way to make money and would rather stay home and work on her sweater designs. They were the mismatch of the century. Why, then, did it feel so right being with him?
* * * *
In the limousine, Nick leaned toward Vanessa and said, "Hilda told me you look unbelievably sexy in the lace dress."
"She didn’t." Vanessa just couldn’t imagine the dour-faced woman saying anything of the sort.
"No, not in those exact words, but the look of shock, mixed with envy, was a dead giveaway." His gaze drifted down her body. "I bet it accentuated every curve and--"
"Nick!" She glanced nervously at the driver, wondering if he could hear them.
"Don’t worry. He can’t hear a thing," Nick murmured. "So why didn’t you come out and show it to me?"
"I … it … was just too revealing." She felt a slight flush burn her cheeks. Was it because she could imagine Nick’s eyes lingering over every curve of her body, sending her pulse leaping? Or because she’d wanted to come out so desperately, to convince him he wanted her, and not some other woman, so badly, that she’d barely been able to control the urge?
"You don’t like to reveal too much, do you, Vanessa?"
At his solemn tone, her gaze jerked to his face. "What?"
Lines of concentration disappeared from his face as his mouth turned up in a grin.
"Hey, maybe you can help me. I’ve bought this beautiful dress for Friday night but I don’t have a date yet."
Bewildered, she stared at him with a frown. "But I thought you said…."
"Oh, I know who I want, I just haven’t asked her."
"Why not?" The way he looked at her, as if his sharp eyes could pierce her barriers, she wondered if he’d been lying about asking another woman, if he really meant to ask her. She quelled the thought immediately. Why torture herself by imagining things that could never be?
"Because I’m not sure she’ll say yes."
"You?" Vanessa leaned back against the seat, her fingers spread on her chest in mock astonishment. "You’re afraid a woman will say no?"
"It has been known to happen, you know."
He took her hand. "You, for instance."
"Me?" Her throat went dry.
"You said ‘no’ to showing me the dress." He slid his hand to her elbow and kissed the sensitive white flesh of her forearm. The touch of his lips sent quivers like dancing rainbows along her spine. "Tell me, Vanessa. How should I ask this woman to guarantee she’ll say yes?"
"There are no guarantees in life, Nick."
"That’s true, but there are ways
to influence events." His lips inched to the inside of her elbow. Why was he doing this to her while seeking her advice on how to ask another woman out?
"How should I approach her?"
"You could just phone her up and ask. It’s straightforward, simple," she suggested.
He grinned again, showing straight white teeth, and looking like a Cheshire cat. "Definitely not me. No, I want something much more imaginative than that." He drew his mouth away from her arm, and she immediately missed the warmth of his breath. "What if I send her a note, along with a dozen roses?" He held his hands in front of him. "Imagine this. Her doorbell rings and she opens it to see a man dressed as an old English minstrel. He hands her the roses, then breaks into song, asking her to be my date."
Vanessa giggled.
"You laugh, but I’m perfectly serious. I want to impress her."
"I see. Well, that’s overdoing it a little."
He looked like a little boy whose puppy had just been insulted. "You think it’s stupid. Do you hate the whole idea?"
"No, the flowers were good."
"So the roses stay."
"Roses are nice…." Her voice trailed off.
"But?"
She felt a half smile creep across her face. She was foolish to get caught up in the fantasy, she knew, but Nick had a way of dragging her along for the ride.
"If it was me…."
"Yes?" His interest seemed to intensify.
"A large orchid, floating in a bubble of glass. Your note could say: ‘A single bloom for the single most beautiful woman I know. Let Friday be a night of magic for us both.’"
His hand curled around hers, his eyes glittering. "How do I sign it? Love, Nick?"
She shook her head. "You don’t sign it. You leave it blank, then as soon as the messenger leaves, you go to her door and tell her it’s from you, then sweep her into your arms and kiss her."
"And that would work?"
"On me it would." She drew back reluctantly from the alluring image.
"That’s good enough for me."
She looked at him uncertainly. "Are you on kissing terms with her?"
"Absolutely."
Again, his eyes shone with wickedness and Vanessa’s heart sank into a pool of icy emotion. Nick drew her hand to his mouth.
"Thanks for your help, Vanessa."
His lips pressed on her palm and her eyelids drifted closed. If only she was the lucky woman. [*****]
* * * *
At seven that evening, Vanessa’s doorbell rang. She plopped her knitting down beside her and hurried to the door. Peering through the peephole, to her astonishment she saw a young man in a minstrel suit standing on the other side. What in heaven’s name…? Was Nick pulling some kind of prank on her? She pulled open the door.
"Miss Graham?" he inquired in an English accent.
Nice touch, she thought. "Yes."
He swept off his hat, green ostrich feather swishing through the air, and bowed deeply.
She giggled. "Are you going to break into song now?"
She couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous that Nick’s date-to-be was getting an orchid with a love note while she was getting a practical joke, but she pushed the feeling aside. The fact that Nick would go to this much trouble to thank her for helping him meant a lot to her.
He grinned. "If you don’t object, love."
She swept her hands wide. "By all means."
"Great. You’re a sport." He snapped open a guitar case lying on the threadbare carpet and slung the instrument’s leather strap around his neck. He broke into a rousing, and slightly off-key, tune.
"Downtown girl won’t you come out with me,
come out with me,
come out with me,
Downtown girl won’t you come out with me,
on this Friday night?"
He laid his guitar back in the case and closed it.
"Is that it?" she asked. Had he forgotten the roses?
He raised his eyebrows. "You want more?"
"No, not really." She grinned. "What about a message?"
"Just to tell you he wrote it himself."
"I see. Well, thanks. It’s been fun."
"Wait, I didn’t say no to your first question. There is one more thing."
He handed her a box about a foot square. "You’ve got to keep it upright."
How nice. Nick had gotten her some kind of thank you gift. She glanced at the messenger again. Good heavens, was it proper protocol to tip him? She wasn’t sure.
"Hang on, I’ll go grab my purse."
He grabbed her hand. "No, thanks, love. The pleasure’s been all mine."
He gave her a charming grin and all at once she realized just how attractive he was. His blond curls hung below his shoulders like laughing sunshine. His brown leather belt pulled tight around a trim waist and green tights outlined very muscular legs. She had no doubt that when he walked away, the back view would be well worth a second look. Probably an out of work actor, she thought, trying to make ends meet. He definitely had the charisma. His eyes glinted with mischief.
He leaned against the door frame. "Look, love. Do you mind telling me what your answer to the bloke’s tune will be?"
"What do you mean?"
"Come on, now. Weren’t you listening to my stirring rendition? He wants you to go out with ’im on Friday. Are you going to say yes?"
"No, he doesn’t. It’s just a practical joke."
"You sure?" At her nod, he continued with a silky persuasiveness. "Well, then, how ’bout doing the town with me?"
"No, I don’t think so." She felt a flush blossom over her features. It had been a while since someone had tried to pick her up. She wasn’t used to the attention.
"I promise to dress in more suitable attire."
"No, really. Thanks anyway."
"Okay, then. Can’t blame a bloke for trying."
He turned and sauntered down the hall. Definitely worth a second look, she thought as she watched him leave. She closed the door and carried the box into the kitchen. The minstrel had taken her mind off her jealousy but now it returned with a vengeance. Don’t be stupid. This was very sweet of Nick.
She cut the string with scissors and cradled the box to her body as she tugged at the lid. What could it be? Silk roses would be appropriate, to go along with Nick’s scenario, but the box wasn’t the right shape, unless it was an arrangement of some sort.
The lid came free and she almost dropped the box when she saw what was inside. A globe of glass with a large, mauve orchid inside. She held her breath as she plucked the card from the envelope and read:
A single bloom for the single most beautiful woman I know. Let Friday be a night of magic for us both.
No! This couldn’t mean … could Nick really be…?
How do I sign it? Love, Nick? he’d asked.
You don’t sign it. You leave it blank, then as soon as the messenger leaves, you go to her door.
She raced to the door and tore it open, then peered down the hall. No sign of Nick. She closed it slowly behind her with a quiet thump. Deflated, she walked back to the orchid and carefully lifted it from the box, then put it in the centre of her kitchen table.
The doorbell rang.
She froze. Could it be?
It rang again and she raced to open the door.
"Nick!"
He took one step forward and she took one step back, suddenly uncertain.
"Well, Vanessa?"
"Well?" She continued moving backward with Nick matching every step.
"The orchid and the note were from me."
"I figured that out."
…then sweep her into your arms and kiss her.
She stumbled over a footstool and Nick swept his arms around her to stop her from tumbling to the floor.
"Do I kiss you before or after you give me your answer?" His half-grin transformed his face into a playful boyishness. He lowered his lips to within an inch of her own. "Of course, you’ll say ‘yes’ because y
ou already told me this would work like a charm on you."
She gulped. "Not until you tell me one thing."
He brushed her cheek with his lips. "And what’s that?"
"Are you still using me as practice?"
"Practice?" He nuzzled her neck, sending goose bumps skittering across her flesh.
"Yeah, practice before you ask your real woman."
He slid his hands across her shoulders and up her neck, his gaze drawing hers by sheer magnetism. "Vanessa, you are very real." He cupped her cheek with his palms and curled his fingers over her ears, as he pulled her face closer. "And so is this."
His lips brushed hers and she felt them quiver at the delicate touch. As his mouth played across hers, a faint tremor started deep inside her and set her heart fluttering. She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders. His hair tickled her fingers as she trailed them around the back of his neck. The kiss deepened and so did her breathing. Nick’s hands swept down her back, disintegrating the distance between their bodies, the layers of their clothing the only barrier between them. A barrier that at this moment, she wished she could tear away.
As though sensing her thoughts, Nick broke the kiss and stared down at her intently.
"Vanessa, I want you, you know that. I’d like nothing better than to lower you onto that couch and slowly strip away your clothes, then make love to you -- slowly, sensuously, awakening every part of you to my touch."
She felt a deep longing awaken at the image his words aroused. She licked her lips. "But?"
"But, I have to be honest with you. I do want you to go out with me, and not just Friday, but…." He pulled away from her and raked his hands through his hair. "Look, what I’m saying is, don’t expect forever. I want you--and I think you want me, but…." He stroked a finger along her cheek and the breath quivered from her lungs as her eyelids drooped. "Anything this white hot has to burn itself out." He brushed his lips where his fingers had been. "But it’ll be one hell of flame."
His strong hands on her shoulders held her steady. He smiled, further eroding her composure. "So, will you come out with me on Friday? It’s a charity dinner, quite a glitzy affair."
A thought swirled through her confusion like leaves caught on a fall breeze. Nick had actually asked her out!
