“He’s bluffing,” Ben whispered out loud to Odalie.
The back window buzzed down. “Hell, no, he’s not bluffing! You don’t wake up, I’ll prove it to you!” The window buzzed back up.
Odalie glared at the car and thought of giving him a one-finger salute, then shocked herself because she even thought of it. “I’ll be awake,” she told Ben. “But not because he made threats,” she muttered to herself. She muttered all the way into the apartment, even after the car had driven away.
She stumbled around in the apartment, half asleep, already missing Stasia’s company, tossing a few more clothes into a still-packed suitcase. She had a few things at home, mostly jeans and T-shirts and boots and jackets. She didn’t need to pack much, but she always packed more than she thought she’d need.
She’d meant to call Tony’s bluff, but she’d often heard Stasia say that he never bluffed. He made promises, and he kept them. She pictured herself in her thin gown, drenched in cold water. It was enough to get her out of bed after only three hours’ sleep.
It was two thirty. She still had on a long lined lemon silk nightgown that fell to her ankles, with spaghetti straps and a square bodice trimmed with lace. It had a peignoir, but she never wore it in the apartment. Stasia had given it to her as a birthday present, and she loved it. Her long blond hair was down to her waist in back, neatly combed and as silky as the gown. She had no makeup on, but why bother? Tony had already said he wasn’t interested, so why should she...
The doorbell rang. Surely it wouldn’t be Big Ben at this hour...?
She opened the door without thinking and looked straight into Tony Garza’s black eyes, but only for a second. His gaze fell to the gown, and he almost choked on emotion. She was exquisite like that. A painter would have loved her for a subject. No makeup, her long, beautiful hair loose, barefoot, in palest yellow silk and lace. It was a picture he’d never get out of his mind.
She hadn’t thought about what she was wearing until she noticed him looking pointedly away from her.
“Oh, gosh, I didn’t think...sorry!” She turned and ran for her bedroom, then closed the door behind her.
While she was climbing quickly into her clothes, Tony noted the already-packed bags. He went outside and motioned to Big Ben, who took them to the trunk of the limo.
Tony was still cursing himself five minutes later when she reappeared in a pair of beige palazzo pants with a silky tan blouse, her hair up in a complicated knot and a long open beige sweater over it all, with beige heeled sandals and a gold-buckled belt for accessories. No jewelry except a pair of yellow gold studs. She looked good enough to eat.
“Going on the runway?” he asked, just to show her he wasn’t impressed.
She glared at him. “Nobody goes on a runway at three a.m. And you said three, not two thirty,” she added hotly.
He pursed his lips. “You were awake. Sadly.”
Her eyes widened. “I know where I can find a big red toaster if anybody even tries to pour water on me!”
“Too late. You’re dressed. Any other bags?” he asked.
She wanted to throw something. All this pent-up anguished passion and no way to let it out. She wondered what he’d do if she tried that primal-screaming thing that had been popular years ago.
“No,” she said. “No other luggage.”
He turned to look at her. “No makeup bag?”
She gave him a droll look. “I’m going home. To a ranch? Where cowboys are? What do I need makeup for?”
He studied her pretty face. “Nothing that I can see.” He smiled slowly. “Most women look like hell without all that paint.”
It was a compliment, but she wasn’t taking the bait. She didn’t answer him.
“If you’re ready, let’s go. Everything turned off?”
“Yes. I double-checked.”
They went out and she locked her door. She heard an odd noise, but it was gone seconds later. Apparently, Tony hadn’t noticed. But then, he was almost at the car.
He let her slide in first, and he slid in beside her as Ben closed the door.
She put her purse on the floorboard and rubbed at her eyes.
“Sleepy baby,” he teased.
“I’m not sleepy. My eyes are.”