Bell, Book, and Sandals

by Melissa L. Webb

  Walking through the doors of La Fem, one of the hottest restaurants in So. Cal., I looked around me. I couldn’t believe I was really here. I know I’m rich. And I know I had influence back in New Haven, but that meant nothing in a place like this. You had to be someone to get in here. And …apparently, now I was.

  “What do you think?” Ryan spoke softly in my ear. His breath tickled my neck in just the right places. Oh, God. I was in heaven.

  “It’s amazing.”

  “I thought you’d like it,” he told me with a grin.

  “Hello, Mr. Everheart. Pleasure to see you this evening,” a man in a crisp black shirt said, approaching us.

  “Hi, Harry. How are things tonight?” Ryan asked, greeting him.

  “Oh, perfect as usual,” he said, looking around the busy restaurant. “Life is good in a place like this.” He looked over at me. “Who is this remarkable creature?”

  Ryan turned and looked at me. “This is my new friend, Maxie Duncan. Maxie, this is the owner of La Fem and a friend of my father, Harold Morgan.”

  “Oh, please call me Harry,” he said, taking my hand in his. “Everybody does.” His lips brushed the back of my hand in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you, Maxie Duncan.”

  I took my hand back, smiling warmly at him. “Thank you, Harry. The pleasure is all mine. This is a great place you have here.”

  He beamed as he looked around. “It is, isn’t it? Consider it your new home away from home. You are welcome here anytime, my dear.”

  Wow. I was now part of the elite. The night just kept getting better. “Thank you.”

  “So,” Harry said, turning back to Ryan. “I assume you’d like your usual table?”

  He nodded. “That would be great.”

  “Of course. Right this way,” he said, leading us through the restaurant.

  I tried not to stare as I realized who was occupying the tables around us. I’d never seen so many celebrities in one place before. Well, maybe on TV at award shows, but never in real life.

  They smiled at us as we passed. I knew it only went as far as their lips, but I still felt special. I was Ryan’s date for the evening and that meant something.

  Harry led us to a smaller room towards the back. The light was dimmed, but candles flickered all around us, casting a very romantic mood. There were several tables scattered around the room, but none were occupied. It looked like we were the only ones this room was waiting for.

  “Here we are,” Harry said, gesturing to the table in the center. “The best table in the house.” He pulled out a chair for me. “Your chair awaits,” he said as I slipped into it. Harry looked down at me. “I hope you enjoy your time at La Fem. And I meant what I said. You are welcome here anytime.” He gave me a stately nod, then turned to my date seated across from me. “Champagne is on the way as we speak. I hope your evening is enjoyable,” he told him, sneaking a quick glance back at me.

  “Thanks, Harry. I’m sure this will be a most amazing evening,” Ryan said as the owner turned and left us alone in the flickering candle light.

  “Wow,” I breathed when he was gone. This was so surreal. Like a dream come true, and let me tell you, it’s not like I’m not used to getting attention. I guess what it boiled down to was I used to be a big fish in a small pond. Now I was treading water in the ocean and they actually liked me here. I didn’t think that was going to be possible. Not after the huge reality check I had been given my first few days in L.A..

  “Wow, what?” Ryan asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I looked over at him, causing my heart to stir in my chest. It was still a shock to be seated alone with Ryan Everheart. “I can’t believe he invited me back anytime.”

  “I can,” he said, picking up his menu. “He can see how incredibly special you are.”

  I sat there, my mouth hanging open, watching Ryan skim through his menu. Did he just say what I thought he did, or were my ears playing tricks on me?

  He looked up at me, a small grin spreading across his lips. He knew I was staring. Of course. Guys like that always knew when a woman’s eyes were on them. He watched me a moment, no doubt taking in the disbelief on my face. Confusion slipped into his eyes as the smile left his lips. “You know that right?” he asked me softly.

  I was speechless. What was I supposed to say to that? Here was one of the biggest movie stars on the planet and he was looking at me like I was the Holy Grail.

  “No,” Ryan said, even softer this time. “You don’t, do you?”

  “What?” I asked, confused by his words. I wasn’t any more special than anyone else in this city. Money, beauty, everyone had those here. I was just another young girl with too ambitious ideas.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, reaching across the table and taking my hand gently in his. “We’ll make sure you find out.”

  Leaning back, I let the feel of my hand in his encompass me. I knew I couldn’t let myself get too attached. I knew there was no chance of this actually going somewhere. But as I held his gaze, his eyes giving me the impression that I was the only thing he cared about and ever would, I really didn’t care. I was an adult. And I wasn’t going into this blindly. If he wanted to woo me, treat me like a queen, and sweep me off my feet, I was going to let him. Whether it was a month, a week, or even 30 minutes, I was going to enjoy this, because time was short and Ryan was darn hot.

  Studying our menus, his hand never leaving mine, we were ready to order when our waitress returned with our champagne. It turned out to be from Harry’s personal stash, and it was on the house. I didn’t know if that was usual for Ryan’s visits, but it made me feel very, very special.

  “What can I get you this evening?” the waitress asked us, pen poised. She smiled brightly, a gleam in her eye as she jotted down Ryan’s order. Of course, she did. How could she not be taken in by this gorgeous man? It seemed to me most women would be putty in his hands, not to mention a few guys. That’s just who he was. He was as charismatic off screen as he was on. And I knew it would only be a matter of time before someone else caught his eye.

  The waitress turned to me, waiting for my order. I told her what I wanted and waited for her attention to drift back to Ryan.

  But it never did.

  She offered me the same eager smile, hanging on to my every word as I spoke. As she took our menus, she told me how much she loved my dress.

  “I wish I could look that good,” she said, leaving to get our orders started.

  I stared at her, even after she left, feeling like I was in a waking dream. I know I looked good. It’s the only talent I actually have, as you well know. But I couldn’t figure out her comment. Our waitress had been just as beautiful as well. Blonde, blue-eyed, curvy in all the right places. We could have almost been sisters. What made me any more special?

  I felt Ryan’s hand tighten against mine reassuringly. Ah, yes. I glanced up at him. It was him. That’s what made the difference. Who he was had coated over me, lending me some of the charm he commanded. I let out the breath I was holding. Tonight I was Royalty. Once again living the high life.

  My smile echoed Ryan’s, relaxing me as it did. It felt good to feel special. Even if my extended royal title went poof at midnight.

  Our food arrived quickly, grilled filet of beef served with creamy garlic potatoes and fresh vegetables, red wine and shallots reduction for him, and house made raviolis in roasted tomato and pepper sauce for me, and we settled into comfortable chatter as we ate. I learned he was a football player in high school, (No surprise.) a classically trained pianist, (Quite a bit of a surprise.) and the black sheep of his family.

  “What? Being rich and famous isn’t enough for your parents?” I teased.

  He shook his head, a serious look on his face. “No. My father expected me to go into business with him. I didn’t want to. End of story.”

  “How come?”

  “M
y father and I don’t see eye to eye on many things. I’ve made my decision and I’ve been doing my own thing ever since.”

  I nodded, thinking how brave he was to go out on his own against his father’s wishes. We were kindred spirits, on the same journey to find ourselves, but at least I had my parents behind me, loving me no matter what.

  “Well,” I said, taking a sip of my champagne. “At least you succeeded in making a name for yourself. That doesn’t happen too often.” I frowned slightly as I sat my glass down. “Trust me, I should know.”

  He smiled; a genuine grin that seemed to be only for me. “I think you’ve done just fine making a name for yourself, Maxie Duncan. After all, it’s not a name I’ll be forgetting any time soon.”

  My heart seized at those words. I had made an impression on him. True, it was only for tonight, but a girl could fantasize on a moment like this for the rest of her life.

  A waiter brought a dessert cart into the room just as we were finishing up. Ryan talked me into sharing a piece of turtle brownie pie with him. I knew I’d regret it in the morning, but between those dimples and the aroma of chocolate smothered in caramel sauce, I couldn’t help myself. And it was delish.

  After we finished, we headed out, me promising Harry for the 100th time I would be back, into the cool night air. I looked around, hoping to spot the car we had arrived in. None of the cars around us looked familiar.

  Ryan noticed my gaze. “Oh, you won’t find the car we came in. I sent the driver home,” he said, taking my hand, his fingertips cold against my skin from the air outside. He gently pulled me from the sidewalk and over to a midnight blue Lotus parked nearby. “I have my car waiting for us.”

  I looked at the slick piece of luxury in front of me as I stepped around to the passenger side and sighed inwardly. I had missed being around cars like this. I might be growing as a person, but I would always be a rich girl at heart. I know…talk about a step back.

  “I take it you like my car,” he said, opening the door for me.

  “I love it,” I said as I slid in, watching him shut the door. I leaned back, letting the rich leather upholstery welcome me in a hug. I was home. I was a shallow, spoiled, rich girl, but so help me, I was home.

  Ryan Everheart slid into the driver’s seat with practiced grace and looked at me. “You certainly make my car look good, Maxie Duncan.” He started the engine. It roared to life, then settling into a purr only money could buy. “You were born to ride in luxury,” he told me, pulling out of the parking lot. “Never forget that.”

  Ryan pulled out onto the freeway and headed up the coast along the classic Pacific Coast Highway, showing me everything Southern California was famous for.

  Fourteen