Page 38 of Brooke
His words made a sense of calm flow into her, as if he’d sent it forth from his large hands. She leaned her head against his chest again as he caressed her nape with light, sweeping touches. “I hope you’re right. You seem to see everything. It’s wonderful and scary sometimes, and I don’t want it to stop.”
He lifted her chin, a small smile playing upon his sculpted lips. “Then it will not. Because I do not want to stop either, my Brooke.”
My Brooke! Oh, she could get used to that endearment. When he leaned down to kiss her, she rose up on her tiptoes. This kiss was all romance, from the first gentle brush of his lips to the warm assurance of his mouth. The kind a woman who loved orange poppies and organdy would want.
She’d always been afraid to hope and wish for such kisses, she realized.
“I should go, as we are on professional time.” He gave her one last kiss, the whisper of which had her heart sighing and clutching its matchbook. “Perhaps tomorrow night we can have another adventure together.”
Right. He’d mentioned earlier that he planned to meet with her roommates separately tomorrow. Except for Madison, who had still refused to be involved in the process.
Normally, she would wait a few days to see someone she’d just started dating, not wanting to rush things or to seem too eager. But with him… She wished he could stay tonight. “It’s a date. Eight o’clock.” One she couldn’t wait to add to her day planner.
“Good.” He hugged her to him one last time, longing in his colossal arms. “I am glad. Now, I will leave you to return with the eye patch. Isn’t it amazing though? Hearing what we did tonight from your roommates? From my perspective, everyone seemed shocked by some of the answers. Madison’s most of all.”
Brooke tapped her lip thoughtfully. Revelations about Madison were coming right and left these days. “Yes, who would have ever guessed cynical Madison would have gone for love and maiming?”
“Thank you for having me at Drink and Divulge tonight, Brooke,” he said as he walked with steady steps to the door. “I can see why you invented the game.”
“You can?”
He only gave a broad smile. “But of course. You wished to know the depths of the people you’d hoped to call friends. Superficial doesn’t hold the key to your heart, Brooke. Deep and lasting connections do, like the roots of the roses I gave you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With a final compelling look, he closed the door quietly. She sank onto the bed again, realizing he was right about her not liking the superficial. Wasn’t that the reason she was tired of fashion? And wasn’t that why she felt suspicious of people who said they had hundreds of friends to invite to their wedding?
Give her a few trusted people like her roommates. And her father. And Nanine.
Practically diving for her day planner, she dug it out along with her black pen and opened it to tomorrow’s page. She traced her way to the bottom.
Evening Appointments
8 pm Dinner with Axel! ?
She studied the heart she’d drawn afterward and felt a lopsided grin spread across her face. Glancing at the flowers, she rose to pluck one of the poppies out of the vase. Caressing her cheek, she closed her eyes. Romantic yet wild and tough, he’d said.
She didn’t know how to see herself like that woman yet.
But she wanted to.
Maybe even more than she wanted her dream of becoming an interior designer.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Thea had a problem.
She kneaded the sourdough dough she’d made to work out her nerves and other riotous feelings after running back to her apartment with Jean Luc, her fingers as sticky with dough as the fears sticking to her. What was she going to do?
She’d found her wedding dress without Brooke!
Today. She’d had an impromptu lunch with Jean Luc’s mother, deciding not to be concerned she hadn’t seen much of Jean Luc after being out for Drink and Divulge last night. When had she become a social butterfly? The meal had been exquisite, and Fabiana had suggested they walk around afterward to shop a little. Thea had jumped at the chance since they were in an arrondissement she didn’t usually visit.
And that’s when they’d come across her dress.
She’d gasped loudly over the traffic and clutched her excited heart, someone almost running into her because she’d stopped short. Like a simple white confection of spun sugar, there it was in the window. The dress of a fairy princess, with tissue-paper thin layers of white organdy over a satinunderskirt.
Fabiana, who noticed everything, had grabbed her arm and practically raced her into the shop. Even before the shop’s bell tinkled their arrival, she’d known it was hers.
