Chapter 20
She watched him. Sauntering toward her, deliberately, purposefully, with an unreadable smile on his face. She sat in a ridiculously priced hotel, in an obnoxiously opulent penthouse suite upon which Gabriella had insisted. Everything had been taken care of. “For once,” Gabriella chided as she watched the hair and makeup artist and stylist fuss over Carol’s look. “You’re not to lift a finger to do anything but please your man.”
Good advice since right now she couldn’t move. Alex had never looked better. She felt if she tried to walk and greet him she’d fall from her six-inch stilettos onto her face.
“You look incredible.” He bent over, pulled her from the chair and into his arms.
She could feel his heart beating—fast and steady—against her breasts. She basked in the feel of his strong arms around her, inhaled his manly, woodsy scent, and rubbed her temple against his five o’clock shadow. They kissed, long and lazily, before sitting down at a beautifully set table near a window overlooking a view of the sea.
He reached for a silver pitcher and poured a glass of water, then sat back and gazed at Carol. “I still can’t believe we did that.”
“I feel so bad. You’ve been in the air for what, almost twelve hours?”
“Baby, you look so good right now that I would have walked for twelve days just to breathe in your air.”
“Oh, Lord! Keep talking. Because even if you’re lying, that wish sounds good!”
They’d already talked about what happened. After getting over the disbelief that each had traveled to the other, Alex had told Carol to stay put and he’d fly back west. Carol had promptly called Gabriella, who’d set her assistant in motion. Within the hour a charter plane complete with satellite phone was being gassed up near a private air strip. They’d talked almost the entire way, except for when Alex interrupted to return an urgent message from his brother. That’s when Carol had been whisked away, pampered from the rooter to the tooter, and dropped on the starred hotel’s doorstep like Cinderella at the ball.
Carol waited until the personal chef who’d been hired for the evening had returned to the kitchen and left them alone. “Is everything all right at home?”
“You’re talking about Neil’s call?” Carol nodded. “Everything’s fine. He was calling with news about the case in Detroit.”
“What happened?” she asked, her entire body engaged in the question.
“A man has been charged in the club shootings.”
“The one you ID’d?”
Alex nodded. “They received an anonymous tip that named him and another guy who happens to be his cousin. There’s evidence pointing to the fact that the bullet I took may not have come from his gun. But like so many of the young bloods these days, he won’t talk. So he’s going down for that as much as if he pulled the trigger.”
“Will you have to testify?”
“No, I’ll give a statement and my brother’s contact said that should suffice.”
“I’m sorry that guys so young are going behind bars for something so mindless and unnecessary, but relieved that you can now put this behind you.”
“Starting now.” He reached for her hand. “This night is too beautiful to spend it talking about anything but each other.”
“Are you sure talking is all you have in mind?”
“Come on, now, baby girl. You know better than that. We’re going to assuage our appetites with this five-course meal printed on this menu and then . . . uh . . . dismiss the chef and take our dessert into the bedroom.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
That’s exactly what they did. After stuffing themselves with some of the most delicious cuisine that either had eaten, they allowed the staff to quickly clean the kitchen before sending them all away to have the suite to themselves. Soft music had been playing all night and once alone, Alex turned up the volume.
“Excuse me, pretty lady, but may I have this dance?”
Carol didn’t have to work hard to play shy. Her answer came out in a whisper. “Okay.”
The music played. Their bodies swayed. Soon tiny pecks gave way to hot, strong kisses and hands roamed over butts and backs. He grew hard. She became wet. It was obviously time to take this private party to a whole new level.
Carol placed her lips near Alex’s ear. “Are you ready to stretch out? I love the dancing, but my feet are beginning to protest.”
“Sure, let’s head to the bedroom. How about I get us one more glass of champagne. I’d like to propose a toast.”
“Sounds good, babe.”
Carol was glad for the brief time alone. It gave her time to shimmy out of the Mychael Knight red mini she wore and into the silky see-through white teddy decorated with strategically placed red hearts. She dabbed on a couple drops of perfume, replaced her stilettos with crystal-covered booties, and perched herself at the foot of the tall, four-poster bed.
Alex walked in. “Damn, girl. You almost made me drop these glasses.”
“They’re called flutes.”
“They’re getting ready to be called broken!” He quickly covered the distance between them. “Let’s toast to the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.”
“Ever?” Carol asked, taking the flute from his outstretched hand.
“Ever. What about you?”
“Seriously? At this moment I can’t even remember any other Valentine’s Day.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
He leaned in for a kiss. They clinked their glasses and took a sip of a limited edition vintage champagne called Diamond.
That’s when she saw it. Something big and shiny, wrapped around the stem of her glass.
“What’s this?” She held up the flute and squinted. The dimmer was at its lowest light so she couldn’t tell whether the crystal was in the glass or around it. “Babe, did these glasses come with the champagne?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I see something shiny, almost like a real diamond. It’s probably cubic zirconium, but that’s a cute idea to go with a champagne named that.” She finished the drink, carelessly set the glass on the nightstand and then plopped into bed.
Alex stood speechless, his own drink forgotten. In a rare moment, he had no idea what the heck to do. Walking over to the nightstand, he picked up the empty glass, held his hand over the bed, and let the glass go.
“Babe! What are you doing?”
He got on his knees, held the flute at an angle that allowed the diamond ring to fall out of the glass. “I’m trying to get you to move to California, by becoming my wife.”
A month later, Carol left the community center and headed home. So much had happened. Alex had proposed. She’d said yes. A whirlwind had ensued: putting her home on the market, finding a home in LA, training Lynnette Rogers—the bright, motivated college grad who’d been hired as an assistant director—to take her place, and working on a proposal to remain connected to the center as director of fund-raising. She was trying to finish all this before Alex returned to the States from Japan, and the last leg of Marlon’s tour.
Oh, and then there was the small matter of planning a wedding. They’d decided on a small one, just close friends and family, but it still carried the pressure of being her special day. She felt stressed, excited, happy, sad, confused, and elated all at the same time. Her sleeping patterns had become erratic, and lately she’d had no appetite.
Which is why even though what she was about to do was stupid, she was going to do it anyway. But the first thing she had to do was pee!
Carol reached her home and parked in the driveway. She left a box of folders and other items from the office in her car, grabbing only her purse. Bypassing the living room, she ran straight down the hallway and into the bathroom. Two minutes later, she didn’t have the strength to walk back out.
Several more minutes passed before she reached for the phone and called Alex. Her best friend had talked about an age-old pinkie promise of raising children together. It looked like both Gabriella and Alex’s mamas were about to get their wish.