Page 26 of For Your Eyes Only
As much as I tried not to be, I was too loud last night.
In my dreams, Trip took me places I’ve never been. He gave me so much pleasure. Now I’m stretching my arms over my head in the growing dawn, wishing there was some way I could see him again.
Even if I did, he’d think I was Gia the seamstress. How could I tell him I’m Glitter Girl? How would that change the way he thought of me? I’m sure it wouldn’t matter either way. A man of his wealth and status would never be interested in someone like me.
The thought makes me frown. It definitely kills my fantasy after-glow. Tossing my sheets back, I get up and pull a robe over my shoulders. I want all the coffee, and then I want some retail therapy. I made so much in tips last night, I deserve a treat.
“Who sent them?” Shula’s voice is whispered awe, and Dani, our housekeeper, is with her in the foyer, leaning over what looks like a potted plant wrapped in cellophane and thick ribbon.
“What’s that?” I keep walking towards the kitchen, the scent of fresh-brewed java lighting up my insides.Coffee…
If I can’t have the hot guy, at least I can have the hot beverage. Shula gasps, and I hesitate, trying to decide if my curiosity is stronger than my caffeine addiction. Caffeine is winning.
“Gia!” She jumps up with a shriek that makes my heart stutter and dashes over to me holding a little card. “It’s for you!”
Wrinkling my nose, I pull my chin back. “What is?”
“Look!” She shoves the white card in my face. “It says Glitter Girl.”
I take the card, tilting it so I can read the inscription.Deepest apologies for the security lapse last night. I promise you it will not happen again. Sincerely, Trip Alexander
My jaw drops, and Dani looks like a walking flower arrangement as she carries the massive bouquet of red roses to where I’m standing. “It’s got to be at least five dozen.”
“Five dozen roses!” My eyes are so wide, they’re bugging out of my head. Then she puts the crystal vase in my hands, and I almost drop it. “Holy crap! How much do they weigh?”
“A lot.” Dani’s voice is flat.
“You’ve got to write him back and thank him!” Shula is breathless with excitement, bobbing up and down on her toes at my side. “Maybe he’ll ask you to dinner and you’ll fall in love and he’ll marry you like Richard Gere and Julia Roberts inPretty Woman!”
“She’s not a hooker.” Dani shakes her head as she returns to breakfast preparations in the kitchen.
My head is spinning, and the softly clean perfume of the flowers surrounds me. I’m not sure what to do with them. All the butterflies have burst out of their cocoons at the same time, and they’re rioting in my stomach.He sent me roses…
I slowly carry the massive arrangement to the round table in the center of the living room. “We can all enjoy them here.”
“But they’re for you.” Shula’s eyes are dreamy. “He’s gorgeous and rich and elegant… And he’s obsessed with you.”
Chewing my lip, I think about Franco saying he wanted to meet me. I think about my dance last night, and how I did everything to make it just for him, to seduce him with my movements. Maybe I’m the one obsessed. I know who he is. He doesn’t know who I am.
“Didn’t you say his speech was about safety? He probably just feels bad.”
No touching. That’s the rule. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t touch me. Franco assured us it applies to everyone.In the club.
“I don’t know. This is a lot more than a simple apology.”
I study the beautiful bouquet then walk slowly to pour a mug of coffee. How am I going to handle this? She’s right, it’s a lot, and he wants to meet me. Only, if Trip is obsessed, it’s with the tantalizing, mystery dancer, who taunts him with promises of wicked sex.
What would he think if the mask fell away, and he discovered she’s simply an innocent, small-town girl who’s still a virgin? He wants the fantasy, but I’m only Gia.
My throat tightens at the thought. The room feels stuffy, and my head hurts. Returning to my room, I strip out of my pajamas and pull on leggings and a thin sweater that falls off my shoulder. I need retail therapy.Stat.
* * *
West Palm hasamazing designer shops. It’s one of the saving graces of moving here. Not that I’ve ever been able to set foot in any of them.
Until today.
I go straight to Carolina Herrera and close my eyes, smiling as I inhale the crisp-linen scent of luxury. A clerk puts a glass of champagne in my hand, and I stroll through the beautiful store admiring the elegantly tailored clothes. As a seamstress, I can’t help noticing the stitching is impeccable.