Dana takes my feet, and after a cleanse, she begins the usual pedicure procedure but with more precision and care than I’ve ever experienced before. I feel relaxed and spoiled within an inch of my life, and when Dana applies the bright polish, I see that the color matches my dress perfectly.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, interrupting our conversation about the differences in Australia and America, and I pull it out to see Aaron’s name on screen. Dana looks up.
“Please do answer.” She smiles.
I return her gesture and hold it to my ear. “Hi, baby!”
“He? What the f**k do you mean he?”
Oh, he’s mad. Really mad.
“He, as in Joseph. I thought you’d like to know he did an amazing job.”
“I requested you only had females tend to you.” His voice is strained and tight. “Especially for the massage.”
“Relax, honey.”
“Another man had his hands all over your body and you’re telling me to f**king relax? You’re lucky I’m not hauling my ass down there and switching hotels right this second.”
“You’re overreacting,” I state. “Maybe there was no one else available.”
“Overreacting would be coming down there and punching that sonofabitch.”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Aaron. It was a massage. That you booked, I might add.”
The line crackles as he takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I just hate the idea of some other guy having his hands on you.”
“It was a good massage.” I’m taunting him, I know. I can’t help it.
“I’ll give you a f**king good massage, woman. Don’t you worry about that,” he growls. “Now get off the phone and do that relaxing shit I organized before I piss you off.”
I smile. “Goodbye, Aaron.”
“The foyer. Six thirty. In that dress.”
“You got it, lover boy.” I hang up and roll my eyes a second time at Dana’s smile. “Men.”
“I feel ya, sweetie. I feel ya.”
Chapter Twelve
I swear that everyone standing in this room has their eyes on me. Running their eyes down the length of my body, admiring the dress that hugs it like a second skin. Flicking their gaze across my face, taking in my natural makeup, staring at the curve of my eyelashes. Combing my perfectly styled hair, which is clipped over one shoulder the way I requested for Aaron’s benefit. Examining the diamond necklace glittering around my neck and the matching bracelet at my wrist from the boxes Aaron hid beneath the sofa cushions.
But they’re not. There’s only one set of eyes on me—and if there are more, I can’t feel them. The only ones I’m aware of are bright blue and belong to the incredibly handsome man clad in a suit, leaning against the wall. His gaze is drinking me in unapologetically and sparking lust in the pit of my belly.
I let my eyes rove over him in the same manner. Brashly. Obviously. Appreciatively. And, shit, do I appreciate the sight of him. The dark grey suit tailored to him that makes his eyes pop and the stark white of his shirt against his tan skin makes him a vision. A very sexy, very confident vision.
He looks away for a second when he excuses himself from his conversation. His eyes are back on me the moment he strides toward me purposely, like he’s not willing to let anyone get between him and me. As if he can’t be in the same room as me without needing to be next to me.
He stops in front of me and rests a tender hand at my side. “You look beautiful.”
“You picked the dress,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
“No.” He curls his fingers around my neck and pulls me closer to him. “Thank you for wearing it. Really, you look incredible.”
I run my fingers down the front of his dinner jacket. “You brush up pretty good yourself, Mr. Stone.”
He pulls my lips to his. “I know.” He kisses me slowly and sensually, each touch tingling through my body. “God, I wish we could skip this,” he murmurs, nuzzling his lips into my neck. “I want you out of that dress more than I wanted you in it when I saw it.”
I smile. “Obligations, sir. Come on. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“No,” he says seriously. “You’re all mine.”
“Aaron,” I scold, tapping his chest. “How many of these people are spying on us?”
He laughs. “Probably half of them, but I don’t care. Don’t you think sneaking off before dinner would give my parents something to talk about?”
“You’re so bad.”
“Bad for you, Bambi.”
“What a charmer.” I grin and kiss him quickly. “Behave. Everyone’s sitting for dinner. Let’s go.”
I walk and he stops me. “One thing.”
“What?”
“Did you use the personal shopper?”
I look down and smile. “Do you need to ask?”
“Do we really need to do dinner?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a shame.” He pulls out my seat and places his lips by my ear. “Because I’m already thinking of all the ways I can take your body tonight.”
I swallow my gasp as he sits next to me and introduces me to the others around the table. The Australian boss and his wife, the modeling director and wife, and the head of advertising and his girlfriend. Pretending I care is a challenge when his words are ricocheting around my mind and adrenaline is flooding my body.
Getting through this dinner with his hand resting on my thigh? That’s another challenge altogether.
I spend my appetizer silent, listening to the quiet hum of conversation around the table, and it isn’t until Aaron nudges me while we’re waiting for the entrée that I realize I’m being spoken to. And that I’ve been looking at him.
“Gosh, it’s adorable,” Mrs. Modeling Director’s Wife gushes, holding her hands to her chest. Oh, God. I hate the gushers. “Dayton, you must tell us the story of how you met. I’d simply love to hear it.”
Murmurs resonate around the table, and my throat tightens. That day is seared into my mind and my heart no matter how I try to forget it. It’s one of a thousand memories of that vacation that have locked themselves inside my body and refuse to leave. And telling the story, actually telling it, instead of having a gentle reminder from Aaron, makes all the memories come to life again.
“Oh.” I look down and smile. “It was such a long time ago. I’m not sure I remember.”