“Good morning, Miss Tramel . Mr. Taylor. Wil you need a cab today?”
“No thanks, Paul. We’re expecting a car.” Cary grinned. “It’s spa day at Perrini’s!”
“Ah, Perrini’s Day Spa.” Paul gave a sage nod. “I bought my wife a gift certificate for our anniversary.
She enjoyed it so much I plan to make it a tradition.”
“You did good, Paul,” I said. “Pampering a woman never goes out of style.”
A black town car pul ed up with Clancy at the wheel.
Paul opened the rear door for us and we climbed in, squealing when we found a box of Knipschildt’s Chocopologie on the seat. Waving at Paul, we settled back and dug in, taking tiny nibbles of the truffles that were worth savoring slowly.
Clancy drove us straight to Perrini’s, where the relaxation began from the moment one walked in the door. Crossing the entrance threshold was like taking a vacation on the far side of the world. Every arched doorway was framed by lushly vibrant striped silks, while jeweled pil ows decorated elegant chaises and oversized armchairs.
Birds chirped from suspended gilded cages and potted plants fil ed every corner with lush fronds. Smal decorative fountains added the sounds of running water, while stringed instrumental music was piped into the room via cleverly hidden speakers. The air was redolent with a mix of exotic spices and fragrances, making me feel like I’d stepped into Arabian Nights.
It was this-close to being too much, but it didn’t cross the line. Instead, Perrini’s was exotic and luxurious, an indulgent treat for those who could afford it. Like my mother, who’d just finished a milk-and-honey bath when we arrived.
I studied the menu of treatments available, deciding to skip my usual “warrior woman” in favor of the
“passionate pampering.” I’d been waxed the week before, but the rest of the treatment—“designed to make you sexual y irresistible”—sounded like exactly what I needed.
I’d final y managed to get my mind back into the safe zone of work when Cary spoke up from the pedicure chair beside mine.
“Mrs. Stanton, have you met Gideon Cross?” I gaped at him. He knew damn wel my mom went nuts over any news about my romantic—and not-so-romantic, as the case may be—relationships.
My mother, who sat in the chair on the other side of me, leaned forward with her usual girlish excitement over a rich, handsome man. “Of course. He’s one of the wealthiest men in the world. Number twenty-five or so on Forbes’s list, if I’m remembering correctly. A very driven young man, obviously, and a generous benefactor to many of the children’s charities I champion. Extremely eligible, of course, but I don’t believe he’s gay, Cary. He’s got a reputation as a ladies’ man.”
“My loss.” Cary grinned and ignored my violent headshaking. “But it’d be a hopeless crush anyway, since he’s digging on Eva.”
“Eva! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything. How could you not tel me something like that?” I looked at my mom, whose scrubbed face appeared young, unlined, and very much like mine. I was very clearly my mother’s daughter, right down to my surname. The one concession she’d made to my father had been to name me after his mother.
“There’s nothing to tel ,” I insisted. “We’re just…
friends.”
“We can do better than that,” Monica said, with a look of calculation that struck fear in my heart. “I don’t know how it escaped me that you work in the same building he does. I’m certain he was smitten the moment he saw you. Although he’s known to prefer brunettes…Hmm…Anyway. He’s also known for his excel ent taste. Clearly the latter won out with you.”
“It’s not like that. Please don’t start meddling. You’l embarrass me.”
“Nonsense. If anyone knows what to do with men, it’s me.”
I cringed, my shoulders creeping up to my ears. By the time my massage appointment came around, I was in desperate need of one. I stretched out on the table and closed my eyes, preparing to take a catnap to get through the long night ahead.
I loved dressing up and looking pretty as much as the next girl, but charity functions were a lot of work.
Making smal talk was exhausting, smiling nonstop was a pain, and conversations about businesses and
people I didn’t know were boring. If it wasn’t for Cary benefitting from the exposure, I’d put up a bigger fight about going.
I sighed. Who was I fooling? I’d end up going anyway. My mom and Stanton supported abused children’s charities because they were significant to me. Going to the occasional stuffy event was a smal price to pay for the return.
Taking a deep breath, I consciously relaxed. I made a mental note to cal my dad when I got home and thought about how to send a thank-you note to Gideon for the hangover cure. I supposed I could e-mail him using the contact info on his business card, but that lacked class. Besides, I didn’t know who read his inbox.
I’d just cal him when I got home. Why not? He’d asked—no, told—me to; he’d written the demand on his business card. And I’d get to hear his luscious voice again.
The door opened and the masseuse came in.
“Hel o, Eva. You ready?”
Not quite. But I was getting there.
After many lovely hours at the spa, my mom and Cary dropped me off at the apartment; then they headed out to hunt for new cuff links for Stanton. I used the time alone to cal Gideon. Even with the much-needed privacy, I punched most of his phone number into the keypad a half-dozen times before I final y put the cal through.
He answered on the first ring. “Eva.”
Startled that he’d known who was cal ing, my mind scrambled for a moment. How did he have my name and number in his contact list? “Uh…hi, Gideon.”
“I’m a block away. Let the front desk know I’m coming.”
“What?” I felt like I’d missed part of the conversation.
“Coming where?”
“To your place. I’m rounding the corner now. Cal the desk, Eva.”
He hung up and I stared at the phone, trying to absorb the fact that Gideon was moments away from being with me again. Somewhat dazed, I went to the intercom and talked to the front desk, letting them know I was expecting him and while I was talking, he walked into the lobby. A few moments after that, he was at my door.
It was then that I remembered I was dressed in only a thigh-length silk robe, and my face and hair were styled for the dinner. What kind of impression would he get from my appearance?
I tightened the belt of my robe before I let him in. It wasn’t like I’d invited him over for a seduction or anything.
Gideon stood in the hal way for a long moment, his gaze raking me from my head down to my French manicured toes. I was equal y stunned by his appearance. The way he looked in worn jeans and a Tshirt made me want to undress him with my teeth.
“Worth the trip to find you like this, Eva.” He stepped inside and locked the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”
“Good. Thanks to you. Thank you.” My stomach quivered because he was here, with me, which made me feel almost…giddy. “That can’t be why you came over.”
“I’m here because it took you too long to cal me.”