by Susan Shay
She took me to the bedroom, where she pointed out Sam’s closet, then led me into her closet, designed to make any woman—even Oprah—jealous. Bright light filled the room, reaching into every corner. In the center of the room was an island in which she kept sweaters, lingerie, stockings and other things she didn’t want to hang. Skirts, each one on a separate wooden skirt hanger, all hung on half racks as did shirts and blouses. Daytime dresses were on one side of the closet and evening dresses on another. The shoes were on shoe-sized shelves and boots on boot sized.
I couldn’t hide my delight. “I could live in here! In fact, this would be the perfect design for a store.”
Beatrice laughed. “My husband says if the bottom ever falls out of our business, he’s going to throw open the doors and put me to work, selling my stock.”
She led me through another door to an identical closet, holding her spring/summer wardrobe. “Feel free to go through my things.”
I pulled my laptop from my bag, set it on the island and opened the cruise wear template, which I’d designed early on in my career. “Where is the cruise going?”
“We leave from Miami on December first, go through the Panama Canal, then up the coast to San Francisco.”
I filled in the blank. “How long will you be gone?”
“Three weeks or so. There is laundry service on the ship, but I’d rather not use it if I don’t have to. You never know if you’ll get your things back or someone else’s.”
“I understand.” I glanced around, but didn’t see any luggage stored there. “I assume you have plenty of luggage.”
“I’ll have one of the boys get it out of storage so you can see it. We’ll just have to purchase more, if necessary.” She glanced around the room as if checking for something she might have forgotten. “I’ll leave you alone to get to work.”
I filled in quantities of what she owned. Later I’d do a printout, listing suggestions for her. Luckily, they were leaving from a warm weather port, and during most of their trip, it would be warm. But San Francisco in January would require a few winter clothes. And often the nicer, private cruise lines throw an impromptu last night party, so we’d have to be prepared for that.
I started a separate page for Sam. His closet, while not as large and well organized as Beatrice’s, was still impressive. Over the years, I’d learned to take a measure of a man from his closet. Sam was quite a guy. He liked his clothes nice, expensive and understated.
What I liked best about him, though, was his work clothes. They were stained, his boots had steel toes, and on one shelf, he had a hardhat. He hadn’t just inherited the business. He’d worked and, from the look of his boots, worked hard to build it.
After saving their profiles, I packed my computer and went back into the bedroom, where an entire collection of Louis Vuitton luggage had been lined up next to the bed. It looked like a double set.
When I left the bedroom, Beatrice came out of the kitchen. “I made coffee. I hope you’ll have some.”
“I’d love some.” I moved closer to the fireplace, where I stared at the flickering of the fire. Easy warmth moved through me, as if I were home. As if I could kick off my shoes, put up my feet and be at ease—unusual for me. Usually, my Lycanthrope stayed foremost in my mind, constantly reminding me I couldn’t relax. I might say or do something to reveal my secret.
I drew a full breath, a prelude to a yawn, when I noticed Doc’s scent tingeing the air. Spinning, I found him, lazed against the doorway into the kitchen. Delight spurted through me, but I forced a frown. “What are you doing?” As if he didn’t have every right to be there.
His smile, slow in coming, started first at his eyes, then quirked his lips in a crooked smile that shot through me. To my core. “Enjoying the view.”
I tried to keep his ambition in life—to eradicate werewolves—in the front of my mind. Hoping to irritate him, I smiled sweetly. “Did you get called for luggage detail?”
“No.” He gazed at me as if he were a starving man and I were a mountain of ice cream. “My brothers took care of that. I saw your Z and didn’t want to miss…seeing you again.”
I tried to swallow, but the grit in his voice as he spoke those words kept that from happening. I wanted to breathe, but my heart slammed so hard against my lungs, there was no room for air. I wasn’t even sure I could walk until I found myself gliding toward him. And him toward me.
“Jazzy, here’s your—” Beatrice stopped mid-word. “Why, Chase! I didn’t know you’d come in.”
He stopped just before he touched me, but I still felt him, and it made me want to howl.
Swiftly, he moved to his mother’s side, taking the small tray with two coffee cups on it from her. “Let me help you, Mom.”
“Thank you,” she answered. “I’ll get another cup.”
He set the tray on a small table in the midst of a conversation area next to the fireplace. Beatrice came back into the room with the third cup and handed us each one. “Oh, I should have asked, Jazzy. Do you take cream or sugar?”
“No. I like it black.” I usually joked about liking my coffee like my men—strong and bitter—but I couldn’t find the humor.
Amusement sparked in Doc’s eyes. “Somehow I thought you would.”
Beatrice shot Doc a glance, then returned her gaze to me. “Any idea how much I’ll need to add to my wardrobe for the trip, Jazzy? I suppose I’ll need to schedule time for shopping.”
I took a sip as I thought about the classical pieces in her closet. “You have a complete wardrobe, Beatrice. I think you’ll want to add a few items that reflect the latest styles, but it won’t take too much time.”
“Where do you usually take your clients?” she asked.
“I never take them shopping. I arrange for a few shops to deliver an assortment of pieces to my office. Then I’ll set up an appointment with you to try them, see if you like them. I’ll also take care of having alterations done then I’ll have them folded and ready to pack in your bags when they’re delivered to your door.”
“Sounds like a very personalized service,” Doc murmured.
“It is. And the women who use my services return to me year after year. I make a busy woman’s life manageable. And a woman of taste, a woman of style.”
“Do many people find this a career calling?” he asked.
“Very few.” I tossed my hair behind my shoulders. Was he trying to piss me off? “When I first started, my sister said I was just trying to find a way to call my shopping vice a job.”
Beatrice smiled, unaware of the vibes bouncing around the room. “What did you say, dear?”
I shouldn’t have said it, I know. But self-righteous people give me a pain. “I told her it was better than sticking my hand up elephant rears.”
I stared right at Doc as I said it, and was surprised when he laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair.
Realizing I probably should have held my tongue, I glanced at Beatrice and, again, was shocked to see her grinning, too. “I would imagine that the basic requirement of taste and style in combination with business savvy isn’t easy to manage. A kind of left-brain, right-brain way of life.”
“Exactly.” I finished my coffee and set down the cup. “I’d better be going.”
“All right.” Beatrice shot her son a pointed look. “I’ll walk you out, dear.”
Doc shrugged. “Guess I’ll clean up the dishes.”
As we walked out the door, Beatrice thanked me for making the trip out. “I’d like to ask you one more thing. Please don’t feel you have to answer me right now, but would you consider flying to Miami with us? We’d love to have you as our guest at the bon voyage party.”
I checked my calendar and found it clear. “I’d love to.”
****
Busy as I am that time of year, the days flashed past. Before I knew it, I had to set aside clothing charts, appointment calendars and mall trips to dress for the bon voyage party. Naturally, I’d taken time to do a little shoppi
ng for myself and found a heart-of-the-ocean blue gown covered with Swarovski crystals with a plunging neckline. The wrap was a generous shrug with a single button closure.
I met the Hollidays at the airport, and I have to say, the vision of that family of men in their tuxedoes was wonderful. With his good looks, Chase held my attention and made me feel tingly inside, but I did my best to hide it.
Beatrice didn’t look too shabby in her flowing evening gown, if I do say so myself. We flew to Miami in their private jet, the interior of which was absolutely beautiful by anyone’s taste. The main seating area looked like someone’s living room. A leather couch sat on one side surrounded by several matching or contrasting chairs. Just behind the conversation group was a pair of overstuffed chaise lounges. It looked as if pleasure was the main reason for the jet.
A limo met us at the airport, sent by the cruise company, which made me wonder just how expensive a trip this would be for the older couple. Happily, I didn’t get the sense it that it would cause a strain on their budget or that they even had a budget.
I’d been to the ocean many times, but each time I’m near it, the scent of salt air surprises me. As Chase helped me out of the limo, I drew several deep breaths while mentally keeping my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t make myself dizzy.
After we boarded the ship, the purser led us to the suite that would be Sam and Beatrice’s home for the next three weeks. I’d had a few worries about whether the couple would get claustrophobic.
After we looked around the small, well appointed sitting room, Beatrice glanced at me. “Jazzy, why don’t you come with me to find the kitchen?”
“It’s called a galley, Mom.” Doc’s younger brother, Drew, corrected her as he sidled to the wet bar and opened a bottle of champagne. “If you’re going on a cruise, you ought to at least talk like it.”
His mother flashed him a sharp look. “Take it easy over there. We have a long evening ahead.”
“Yeah. Don’t embarrass the family tonight,” Mack said as he trailed after Drew.
Beatrice shook her head, but with a sigh turned and led the way to the very small kitchen where she glanced around at the small fridge, microwave and two-burner stove. “Well, I guess they don’t expect me to cook.”
“I hope not.”
We moved into the bedroom after that. The bed had a heavy satin comforter, the green-blue color of ocean water, a pair of upholstered chairs and his and her dressers. Even the closets were fair sized. The drapes matched the bedspread fabric exactly.
While I checked out the bathroom—complete with a tub and separate shower, Beatrice opened the drapes and revealed a balcony with a pair of lounge chairs.
Oh, yeah. I could get used to living there in a hurry.
Beatrice checked her watch. “Well, I guess we’d better go to the party. If I don’t feed those two monsters, Mack and Drew, they’ll drink too much, and I’ll be angry at them the entire trip. And vacation anger is hard on a woman.”
I tried to hide the smile pulling at my mouth. “We certainly don’t want that.”
“No. They don’t want that. Because if I spend my entire trip planning their punishment, they’ll be very sorry.”
We went back to the living room, where Chase handed us each a flute of champagne, then stayed near me. After taking a sip, Beatrice set hers down. “Let’s go to the party.”
Chase’s hand warmed the small of my back as we made our way to the ballroom, which looked as elegant as any restaurant I’d ever been in. Individual tables were covered with heavy white cloths, crystal vases held fresh flowers and the place settings were heavy silver. The room made me think of pictures I’d seen of expensive ships people traveled before flying was popular.
After taking my seat, I removed my shrug. I turned to Doc, who sat beside me. His gaze was all but aflame. I sat a little straighter and quirked a smile. “Hungry?” I murmured, leaning toward him a bit.
He swallowed, loosened his tie and collar button, then nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. His voice sounded rough. Hoarse. “Yeah.”
“Let’s get our food before the crowd at the buffet tables gets overwhelming.” Beatrice pushed back her chair then gave me a smile. “Come on, Jazzy. You must be famished.”
As we got up, the three Holliday sons jumped from their chairs. Those boys were nothing if not well mannered.
The ship had provided a seafood buffet. I chose lobster and clarified butter. A chef prepared Cesar salad nearby, so when he’d finished, I piled a second plate high with it.
Back at the table, the waiters served champagne. The frown on Beatrice’s face looked as though it might become permanent, until Sam leaned over to whisper something to her.
With a shrug, she nodded at him, then lifted her brows and smiled. I couldn’t be sure what Sam told her, but it seemed to do the trick. Her mood lightened for the rest of the evening.
The orchestra started tuning up and soon music to dine by filled the air.
“I hope you boys will get along okay while we’re gone.” Beatrice put a grilled shrimp in her mouth and chewed for a few moments. “You do have finals coming up.”
Mack shrugged. “Yeah, same as this time last year. Not a problem.”
But Drew wasn’t as casual about it. “If I don’t do well on them, I’m not going back second semester.”
Beatrice drew a breath to answer him, but Sam spoke first. “If you’re having problems, hire a tutor. There’s no reason for you not to do well—unless you aren’t putting your time in studying.”
Mack stared at his plate. “Yeah. But I’m so busy, especially in the fraternity. There’s—”
“You’re at school to get an education. Not to be in a fraternity. If being in that organization is interfering, you can stop being a member. As of now.” The severity of Sam’s tone made me very glad I’d finished school.
Mack held up both hands. “No. No. I think I’ll do okay. It’s just hard.”
“Life is hard. Get used to it.” Sam glanced at me then produced a slight smile before focusing once more on Mack. “We’ll let it drop for now.”
“Good.” The heartfelt word escaped on a sigh, earning Mack a chuckle from the rest of the table, even his father.
“As soon as your mother and I get home, I want an account from both of you. You’d better be diligent.”
When we’d finished eating, and our table had been cleared by the staff, the lights dimmed as the orchestra started playing dance music. Their repertoire was spectacular. They played beautiful tunes from the Twenties all the way up to today.
Mack and Drew noticed several young women on the other size of the room and left us in a hurry. I didn’t expect to see them, except maybe at a distance, for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t thinking about the boys, though. My mind was consumed with Doc. As he drew me into his arms on the dance floor, he slid his hand inside my dress to rest directly on my waist. The intimacy of his touch in the midst of all those people had me melting against him.
He bent his neck to put his mouth next to my ear. His lips brushed the sensitive spot as he said, “You’re beautiful tonight.”
I could have nestled right there, my head in the hollow of his shoulder, and been content for life—or at least the next several hours. But the music changed and Sam cut in.
“Are you having a good time?” the older man asked.
I nodded. “Very much!”
“I hope you don’t let our two youngest sons scare you away. They’re kind of spoiled, but they come from good stock. They’ll turn out all right.”
I smiled up at him. “They don’t scare me, sir.”
He chuckled at my answer. “I can see that. But please, don’t call me sir. Makes me feel like I’m a hundred and fifty years old. And I won’t be that old until my birthday.”
Surprised at his sense of humor, I laughed louder than the joke warranted, but he didn’t seem to mind. When the song was over, Sam escorted me back to Doc.
The orchestra
announced it would take a short break. Doc put his hand along my shoulder. “Want to go out on the deck for some fresh air?” His gaze warmed me all over.
“Let me get my shrug.” I practically gasped the words.
While I slipped it on, Doc told his parents where we were going, and asked if they’d like to go, too.
“No thanks, son. But I saw your brothers sneak out a little while ago. If you find them doing gainers into the ocean, yank ‘em up short. Would you?”
Doc chuckled and nodded, then with his hand on the small of my back, walked with me to the door.
The deck was dimly lit, intentionally I’m sure to give it a romantic atmosphere. And it worked for me. We walked a little way along the deck until we saw the partial moon, making a path across the water.
We found a secluded corner, and Doc was about to take me into his arms when his brothers and a pair of blondes made a noisy return. By the way the brothers argued, I knew they’d had too much to drink. One of the girls lifted something that didn’t smell like a cigarette and took a puff.
Doc stopped them. “Back inside, guys.”
Mack snarled at him. “Why do you think you—”
“I said inside.”
****
Stepping onto the Hollidays’ private jet the next morning for the trip home, I glanced around for a seat. Before I could claim the couch, Mack and Drew hurtled past me and crashed on it.
I chose a comfortable chair that looked as if it might turn into a recliner if I knew the combination. Not that I’d try to sleep. I still buzzed with the evening’s energy.
I’d no more than buckled and settled in when Doc came out of the cabin. After he removed his tuxedo jacket, he sat next to me. Laying the jacket across the arm of an adjacent chair, he loosened his tie and buckled up.
“How old are your brothers?” I asked, keeping my voice soft.
“Old enough to know better than to act like they did tonight.” He scowled and shook his head. “If I’d been that wild at their age, Dad would have… Well, at least they aren’t driving.”
I nodded, as much in sympathy as agreement. “True.”
