Page 48 of Designed for Disaster

“Oh…” I hadn’t thought about it. I usually just swiped some mascara across my eyelashes in the mornings. “Something simple I guess.”

“In this dress?” She cackled, hooked her arm through mine, and led me back to her bedroom where she had a large make-up vanity. She gestured with her hand. “Sit.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Don’t look so concerned,” she said, pulling open a drawer. She had more eyeshadow palettes than I had power tools. “How do you feel about a smokey eye?”

“Holy shit,” Stacy said a half hour later, holding my face in her hands and inspecting her handiwork. “I’ve even impressed myself.”

I twisted around on the stool, taking a long look in the mirror.Wow. She’d definitely embraced the smokey eye, adding a dark lip to match.

“What do you think?” Stacy asked, dancing at my side like an older sister sending me off to prom.

I tilted my head back and forth. My curls were behaving for once in their life, and the make-up played off the dress perfectly. I had to admit I looked damn good. Hopefully, Trent would thinkso too. “If costume designing doesn’t work out, maybe you can become a make-up artist.”

My phone started buzzing on Stacy’s bed.

“Is that him?” she asked.

I jumped to my feet, snatching it up. “He’s downstairs.”

“Okay, go, go!” She ushered me down the hall, handing me my purse. I’d brought my own heels and slid them on at the front door. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

I straightened up, smoothing my hands down the front of the dress. “Sure I look okay?”

“You look hot as hell. Now go have a good time. Everything’s going to be perfect.”

“Perfect,” I repeated as she swung the door open and stepped out into the brisk evening. For once, I was actually in the mood to embrace her endless positivity.

“Have fun,” Stacy called after me.

I staggered to a stop on the steps, looking down at Trent standing on the sidewalk outside the brownstone. Sometimes the mere sight of him took my breath away. Oh, the fun I wanted to have with Trent Saunders.

I got a hold of myself, walking down the stairs to greet him, careful not to trip over my own feet as I took in all six-foot-whatever of his perfectly chiseled frame. His dark hair was swept back out of his eyes, tousled in a way that made me want to run my fingers through it.

“Hi,” I said as I reached the sidewalk.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes raking over me. “You look…” A smile curled his lips. “Amazing, Natasha. You look amazing.”

“You look pretty amazing yourself,” I said.

He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. Butterflies exploded in my gut. No one had ever done that before. “I mean it, Natasha. That dress is?—”

I smirked. “You can thank Stacy for the dress.”

“Oh, I will,” he growled, tugging me close enough that the words tickled my ear. He pulled the door of his chauffeured car open for me, reaching out to give me a hand. I stepped into the vehicle, sliding across the leather seats. A dark glass divider was rolled up between us and the driver. Trent slid in next to me, leaning forward to knock on the window.

The driver set off.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I asked, arranging myself to give Trent a great view of my cleavage. He touched his finger to my cheek, sliding it along my jaw and down my neck, pausing to tap at the hollow at the base of my throat. My pulse raced.

“Just a little place I like,” he said.

“That’s all I’m getting?”

He chuckled, the sound dark and velvety. “That’s all you’re getting.”

“At least give me a clue.”

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