Page 159 of Love Unavoidable
“I love it, Tenley.” I breathe.
“It’s perfect, Sadie,” she says. We pair it with strappy stiletto sandals that make my legs look a mile long and are back at the house by four thirty. The boutique steamed the dress for me before we left, so I wait until I get home to put it on. Tenley helps me get dressed. I’m ready by four forty. It’s easy when all you have to do is throw a dress over your head because someone has taken care of everything else for you.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Now you wait for your date, silly.”
“Let’s have a drink,” I say.
“Okay!”
She mixes us up margaritas. An alarm goes off on her phone. She looks at the clock, four fifty.
“Shit, I gotta go,” she says.
“Where? You just mixed drinks.”
“Uh, I have plans. I need to get ready.”
“But, we already had everything . . .”
She’s out the door before I can even finish my sentence. “. . . done for us.”
I dump the margaritas, not wanting to drink alone, and check my lipstick. Thank god for long-last. I turn back and forth in the mirror, loving the way the white plays off my new California skin tone with no tan lines. Our backyard is private enough to sunbathe nude, so I do.
Four fifty-seven.
A long stretch limousine pulls into the drive. The back door opens before the driver can get out. Ethan steps out, dressed in a suit, he looks around, buttons his coat, and walks to the front door where he rings the bell. It reminds me of our first date, so long ago, when he did the same. I glance in the mirror one more time, then walk to the front door to answer it, suddenly nervous.
I swing the door open. “You’re early.” I smile.
“You’re breathtaking,” he says eyeing me down and then up again. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, then offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
I take his arm and we walk to the limo. The driver opens the door for us. Ethan takes my hand and helps me in, then steps in after me. The driver shuts the door while I sit back in the seat and cross my legs. My dress falls to either side of the slit, exposing my entire thigh.
Ethan clears his throat and shifts in his seat.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Nice dress,” he says, raising his eyebrows and pointing his eyes toward my thighs.
“Thanks,” I say. “It’s new.”
“I like it.” He smiles. “A lot.”
“You look very handsome,” I say. He preens.
“No.” I tilt my head and study him.
“No?” He frowns.
“Hot as fuck. Sexy as hell. Totally fuckable even.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he says, leaning over and kissing me on the lips. A long, soft kiss that makes me want to pledge my eternal devotion to him so he won’t stop. He reaches forward and pulls a bottle of champagne from a bucket and pops the cork.
“Champagne?” he asks.
“Yes, please,” I say. He pours us each a glass and we toast.
