Page 106 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

“Keaton, I can’t!”

“Don’t be nervous. This will be fun, I promise.”

“No. Those puddles will ruin my shoes! And I don’t have anything to cover myself. I’ll get wet! Can we park somewhere else?”

Keaton’s hair is starting to get damp from the light sprinkle of rain. He scans the area and shakes his head. He shakes off his jacket and covers me. I release a little shriek as he pulls me out of the limo and then lifts me into his arms.

The limo driver stares stunned. “Sir? Can I help?”

“Shut the door please. We’ll call you when we’re finished here.”

He takes off jogging, carrying me down the sidewalk.

I burst into a fit of giggles. “Keaton!”

“We can’t ruin your shoes, now can we?”

“This isn’t what I had in mind.”

“Me neither. It’s better.”

We get under the awning to the entrance of the building. He is still holding me. I notice people are casting glances our way, but for once, I don’t care.

“Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

I pat his hair that’s now wet. “You’re going to catch a chill.”

“Wanna warm me up?”

I smack his chest and wiggle for him to place me on my feet. I smooth my dress down and pat my hair to make sure it’s still in place. I take off Keaton’s suit jacket and hand it back to him. He holds his arm out, and I loop mine through. We walk up to the entrance and give our names.

I smile so big it hurts. “Come on, before it starts without us.”

The gentleman leads us through the doors and toward our seats. Through the entire show, I’m mesmerized by everything and everyone. There are even a few celebrities here. After the show, we walk around and mingle, while drinking champagne. Keaton doesn’t miss any opportunity to bring up the fact that my dress was designed and sewn by me. Some people ask for my card, but I don’t have any.

“Any way I can contact you?” One lady asks.

“Actually, I have a blog…” I feel so lame, but the woman brightens up.

“Really? What’s the name?”

“The Fashion Princess.”

“No. Are you serious?” She lets out a surprised laugh. “My daughter was telling me about this blog. She and her friend love your blog. But you haven’t posted in a while?”

“No, I’ve been…”

Keaton comes to my rescue. “Sewing her designs, plus she’s in school still.”

The woman opens her clutch. “Here. If you ever need an internship, call me. I can help you.”

“Thank you.”

Keaton calls the limo driver to let him know we’re ready to leave. We step outside, and I’m relieved to see the rain has stopped.

“Keaton-” I sigh and smile. I run my hand along his arm. “Keaton,” I try again, “I don’t know what to say. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before.”

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