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TEN MINUTES BEFORE Hunter arrived to pick me up at my apartment on West Twenty-Ninth Street, a swarm of butterflies had swept into my stomach, and they were having one hell of a time duking it out with their flutter power and rattling my nerves raw.
After a finishing touch of powder to my cheeks, I left the bathroom for the full-length mirror in my bedroom so I could assess myself. As I walked over to it, I had to admit that tonight, I wanted to look my best for Hunter, and not only because I was attracted to him. I barely knew the man, but this was a big night for his father. Hunter clearly wasn’t keen on attending society events on his own because he felt uncomfortable in a world he’d described as “fake,” and to me, that statement alone said something about him and his character.
Harper had painted him as a serial seducer of women, which he very well might be. But be that as it may, because of his past as a foster child, I had believed him when he’d told me at dinner that he’d never felt at home around the social elite, which gave him a kind of depth that appealed to me.
As nervous as I was about going into a party filled with rich blue bloods—where I of all people had no place being—I nevertheless was resolved to get through the evening and stand at Hunter’s side throughout it all.
Would I be judged along the way? Of course I would. But since this never would be a world I’d want to call my own, to hell with it. Let the judgments come. It was highly unlikely that I’d ever see these people again, so I didn’t care what they thought of me.
What mattered to me is that I shined for Hunter tonight. That I eased his mind when it came to that crowd. And that we somehow found a way to have a good time in the process.
When I came up to the mirror, I leaned forward and studied myself with a critical eye.
I was wearing the fiery red, floral-embellished sleeveless V-neck taffeta gown Harper had given me two years ago, when my yearly bonus had been this showstopper of haute couture by Carolina Herrera and an epic evening out at the coveted Met Gala. The gown was so classic in its design, I thought that it still looked on-trend and pretty much brand new. Would others notice that it wasn’t?
Probably, but since there’s nothing I can do about that, this is as good as it gets. And regardless of what anyone else thinks, frankly, I’m thinking it’s pretty spectacular.
I moved closer to the mirror to check my hair, which I’d decided to wear up in a tight chignon in an effort to show off the only significant piece of jewelry I owned—my late grandmother’s diamond solitaire earrings, which clocked in at a karat each.
They’d been an extravagant gift from my grandfather on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Could he afford them at that point in their lives? No way, because no one in my family had that kind of money. So, looking back, I knew the only way my grandfather could have pulled off buying these earrings was if he’d secretly tucked away small amounts of money over many, many years so he could properly punctuate their big day when it came.
That he’d found a way to purchase them didn’t surprise me. When he was alive, my grandfather had been a die-hard romantic, and he’d loved my grandmother with a fierceness that was so palpable, I knew in my heart that he’d gone to great lengths to make certain on their fiftieth she knew just how much he loved her.
Growing up, I used to hope that one day I’d experience that kind of searing, crushing, all-consuming love. And I still did. It hadn’t happened to me yet, and while at twenty-eight, I felt that time was running out for me to find that kind of love in a city filled with cynics and players, I still hoped that it would. Long before my grandmother passed, she knew that I’d always been entranced by these earrings—and in her will, she’d left them to me.
“Here’s to you, Nana,” I said to my reflection. “Thank you for these. And please, wherever you are, be my guide tonight. Because I have no idea what’s about to come my way, on too many levels.”
When my buzzer rang at seven-thirty sharp, it was with ribbons of anticipation that I went over to ring Hunter in. I lived on the sixth floor, and because my building had a doorman and an elevator, I knew that I had just enough time to gather my purse and steal a final look at myself in my bathroom mirror before he arrived at my door.
Why am I so nervous? I thought as I added a final swipe of lipstick that matched the color of my gown. It’s just a night out with a new colleague. It’s nothing more than that. Settle down!
But I knew it was more than that. Because I was so physically attracted to Hunter—and because at dinner last night, I’d sensed his own attraction to me—I needed to keep Harper’s words of warning close to my heart throughout the evening. Harper never lied to me. If Hunter Steele was a player, Harper knew it for a fact, and a player was the very last thing I wanted in my life, especially since the main thing I needed to focus on now was the career I’d longed for for years.
So, just get on with it, I said to my reflection. And in the meantime, take the pressure off yourself and try to have some fun tonight. Because when was the last time you got dressed up for a bit of fun? And when was the last time you got to toot with a woman named Tootie?
When the knock came at my door, I sprayed a hint of perfume into the air, walked swiftly through it so the scent wouldn’t overpower me, then went toward the entryway to greet Hunter, who I found standing outside the door looking like a sex god.
He was wearing a black tuxedo, his dark hair was raked away from his chiseled face in a way that set off his insanely blue eyes, and when I noticed that he hadn’t shaved—he was sporting a dense stubble—it just about did me in.
“Hi,” I said to him.
“Hey,” he said as he soaked me in. “Julia, you look amazing.”
“Smoke and mirrors,” I said quickly.
“And yet there’s no smoke,” he said as he glanced behind me into my apartment. “And I don’t see any mirrors.”
“How about if we just chalk it up to your poor eyesight?” I said.
“Something I don’t have.”
From behind his back, he removed a stunning bouquet of what had to be two dozen white roses wrapped in bright yellow tissue paper. He handed them to me, and I took them from him in surprise.
“They’re beautiful,” I said. “Thank you!”
“I would have gone for red,” he said, grinning at me as he nodded at my dress. “But since you told me that your dress was red, I didn’t want the roses to feel like they needed to compete. Well, at least not yet . . .”
I felt myself flush, as I generally did around him.
“You blush so easily,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe. “Why is that?”
I don’t know, Hunter. Maybe because it’s been a long time since a man as good-looking as you has shown up on my doorstep? Yes, a part of that has been my choice, but still! Having you here now—and the idea of us going out together tonight—has rattled me to my core.
Without answering him, I pressed the roses to my nose so I could drink in their sweet aroma, then I asked him to come inside so I could get the bouquet into a vase of water before we left.
“Give me a second to give these a cool drink of water,” I said as I moved toward the kitchen. “And, Hunter, they’re lovely. You didn’t need to do this, but they’re stunning. Thank you, again.”
“You’re saving my ass tonight,” he said. “The flowers are warranted.”
So, the flowers are just about me stepping up to the plate to help him? I thought as I grabbed a vase from a cupboard and started to fill it with water. What am I to make of that? Probably just that. If they mean nothing more than gratitude, I need to look at these flowers as a simple act of kindness, which I totally can get behind. In fact, that’s exactly how I need to think right now . . .
“I promise to water them every day until their little necks bend in defeat and they give up their poor little souls to the heavens,” I said as I placed them on the living room coffee table.
“That’s one way to put it,” he said with a disarming laugh. “Julia, the more I get to know you, I have to wonder whether you’ve ever considered doing comedy?”
“Come again?”
“Comedy,” he said. “You’d be great at it.”
“But I’m not funny,” I said.
“You are when you’re around me.”
If I am, that’s only because I’m trying to keep my head out of the clouds when it comes to you, Hunter . . .
When I didn’t answer him as I stepped back into the foyer, I watched his gaze linger over my body. “So, that’s the gown Harper bought you . . . ?”
“Isn’t it amazing?” I said as I twirled. “I mean, I probably should be all humble about it right now, but screw it! Even after two years of owning it, I still can’t believe it’s mine. Because this gown? This gown is something that this girl never could afford. This is only my second time wearing it. Harper totally spoiled me with it.”
“Who spoiled you with those earrings?”
“Oh,” I said in delighted surprise. “I’m so glad you noticed them!”
“Who wouldn’t?” he asked. “They’re huge.”
“They once belonged to my grandmother,” I said. “After her death, she willed them to me because she knew how much I loved them. I mean, ever since my grandfather gave them to her, I have been mesmerized by them. So, thank you for noticing them, because they really do mean everything to me. As did she.”
“A part of your grandmother will be with us on our first date,” he said as he took me by the arm and led us toward the door. “I kind of like the thought of that.”
I’m sorry? I thought as I stopped dead in my tracks. Our first date? And where in the hell did that come from?
Wherever it came from, my head started to spin out into the ether as my grandmother’s favorite singer, Barbra Streisand, seized control of my mind.
Nana, can you hear me? Nana, can you see me? Nana, can you find me in the night? Nana, are you near me? Nana, can you hear me? Nana, can you help me not be frightened . . .
“How often do your eyes cross like that?” Hunter asked me as he cocked his head to one side while looking at me.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Your eyes were starting to cross again. You know, like they did at dinner last night.”
Shit! My body betrays me again!
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Were you about to sneeze again?”
“I don’t know—maybe. Probably. Likely. The spring allergies have been terrible this year. But it’s passed, so we’re good.”
“All right, then,” he said with bemusement in his voice. “Shall we go?”
“Lead the way, Mr. Steele.”
When I said that, he just glanced down at me, his full lips curling. “I hope you’ll allow me to do just that, Julia. Because I already have a feeling that as we come to know one another better, I’m going to be jumping through all sorts of hoops when it comes to you.”
Confused, I just looked at him.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“You’ve got your walls up when it comes to me—not that I mind, because it presents a challenge, which I like. When someone really intrigues me, like you do—which hasn’t happened in years, by the way—you probably should know that I will jump through those hoops, whether you like it or not.”
“Hunter, all we are is colleagues,” I said to him.
“I guess on one level we are,” he said.
“What’s the other level?” I asked.
“Julia, come on. Are you really going to deny the spark each of us felt when we first met?” he asked. “And the one we’re feeling right now?” Before I could answer, he shook his head at me. “Because that’s not going to happen on my watch.”
And then there’s that! I thought as he whisked me out of my apartment, into the elevator, down to the lobby—and out into the night.
