Page 50 of A Billion Dollar Romance
The stylist had arrived early that morning, bringing up a full-length mirror, clips and pins and chalk, at least a dozen shoeboxes, and racks and racks of clothes, so many that the delivery man who dropped off the pastries and cut fruit had asked if I was a designer.
I wasn’t too proud to say that nothing was further from the truth.
Which is why I had brought in the experts.
Edie looked up at me as we ascended rapidly to the penthouse. She’d look good in anything, of course, but I wanted to do this for her. It was something I remembered, vaguely, my grandfather doing for my grandmother. It had always seemed a little embarrassing as a kid, and then, as an adult… Well, the mercenary women I had dated would certainly have loved this, I was sure, but their faces wouldn’t have shone like Edie’s did as the doors slid open.
“James,” she breathed, looking around at the living room, transformed into her own personal dressing room. The racks of dresses and skirts and blouses obscured the couch, the coffee table, so that it was barely recognizable as the room at had been. There was even a folding screen up in one corner, where Edie could change privately; it was more for decorum than anything else, considering I’d already seen and touched every glorious inch of her, and had kissed over most of it.I’ll rectify that tonight,I thought, smirking.I’ll have kissed every single inch, too, by this time tomorrow.“I didn’t know you could even do this,” she said.
“Croissant, Edie?” I asked, gesturing at the pretty tray of pastries on the coffee table. “And let me get you a cup of coffee.”
She accepted the coffee tentatively. “I’m scared I’ll spill it on the clothes,” she said, holding the mug carefully. “That reminds me–I finished the book this morning. The romance.”
“And?” I asked, then, “No, let’s not talk about work.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said, tilting her chin up. “I was just going to say that I started it last night, in awonderfulbath for which I haven’tproperlythanked you yet.” She stepped closer, glancing at the stylist, then lifting onto her toes to place a kiss at the corner of my mouth. “Thank you,” she said, then, low and soft in my ear, “and I’ll thank you again at the resort. I checked the website, and the baths in their suites haveampleroom for two.”
I’d never been excited for a work conference in my life, I thought as Edie and the stylist chatted, holding up blouses and skirts and dresses, Edie nodding at some and shaking her head at others, and the difference was that this was important toher.Forher.
“What do you think, James?” she asked, holding up a cream sheath dress.
“Sorry,” I said, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “What was the question?”
“Typical man,” she laughed, looking conspiratorially at the stylist. “Not paying attention at all. For the reception on the first night,” she said, clarifying. “It says business attire, do you think this is too much?”
My chest warmed. She’d been looking at the resort website, the schedule of events. Had I been this excited when Grandfather took me? I hadn’t, I knew; I’d taken it for granted that I would go. I’d assumed, with the foolhardy self-assurance of youth, that I’d meet the agent who would see the brilliance of my writings, that my well-deserved awards and accolades were just around the corner.
“Do you have a…” I looked to the stylist, gesturing to a neat display of accessories. “A scarf, or something?”
“He’s cute,” the stylist stage-whispered to Edie, who blushed. “What about this one?” She held up a slippery square of fabric with a floral print in dark green and lavender.
“Thanks, Jennie,” she said. “Ooh, it’s so soft.”
The stylist–Jennie–nodded. “Silk. And this purple makes your eyes pop.”
“I think I’ve heard that somewhere before,” I said, tapping my finger against my chin, and Edie laughed.
“I’ll just go change into this…?” she said, looking toward the screen that was set up in the corner of the room. The stylist nodded, and she disappeared behind it. There was a rustle of clothing being removed, and my cock thickened, Pavlovian.Down, boy.“I’m looking forward to the conference,” Edie called from behind the screen. The words were rote, but the enthusiasm in her voice was audible. “Will your agent friend be there? Samantha?”
“She will,” I said. “She’s the best, so she’ll be there.”
“Will you introduce me again?” she asked. “She said she liked my book last time, and I have a website now with some more samples on it.”
“When did you do that?” I mused, smiling as I perused the platter of pastries. I picked up a croissant, taking a bite as I settled onto my couch for the fashion show.
“Not during work hours, if that’s what you’re insinuating, boss–James,” she corrected, and I chuckled.
“We work together,” I explained to the stylist, who nodded, politely disinterested.
“What do you do?” she asked, but Edie interrupted, stepping out from behind the curtain.
The cream dress had seemed shapeless on the hanger, but now that it was on, I saw that the fabric had little tucks and pleats, the dress drawing my eyes naturally to her hips, her waist, her bust… The silk scarf draped loose around her throat made her eyes pop.
She was gorgeous.
“She’s a writer,” I said, and Edie’s grin was bright enough to light the room.
CHAPTER26
