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Smith shot him a look as a doorman stepped forward and let the cold air in. "That's a fancy word."
"Yeah, isn't it great? I'm liking adjectives. You need to work your vocabulary, it's like a muscle. Ummm—happy birthday, Grace, by the way." Eddie passed a small, carefully wrapped present back. "I know this isn't the best time or anything but I figure, what the hell, give it to her now."
"Why thank you, Eddie."
"You don't have to open it."
"Of course, I do! This was very thoughtful of you." She ripped off the paper. "Why, it's... Mace."
She smiled at him.
"I know it's illegal in New York but you should really keep some with you all the time. Do you know how to use it? Just slide your finger in here and point it toward the face." He showed her the discharge mechanism and was satisfied only when she practiced twice. "Put it in your purse. You take it everywhere, okay?"
"Okay, Eddie. I'll do that.” She slipped it inside her little silk bag and then leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you again."
Eddie was smiling as he pulled away from the curb.
"That was really kind of him," she said as she waved.
"Yeah, it was. He likes you. But then so do most people."
She looked up at Smith but he was scanning the park, the street, the pedestrians in front of the hotel.
"You sound surprised," she said softly.
His eyes came to rest on her face. "There's a lot about you I find surprising. Let's go."
She wanted to pump him for specifics, but she lifted the hem of her dress and walked up the red-carpeted stairs. As they passed the Palm Court, Grace stopped to talk to a couple and then they headed for the elevators.
When they got to the suite, Grace knocked on the door and her friend opened it wide, sweeping her into an embrace.
"Here she is!" Bo exclaimed.
Grace wrapped her arms around her old friend. "I'm so glad to see you north of the Mason-Dixon line."
"The air's a little thin up here but other than that it's okay."
Grace turned to introduce Smith. "And this is John ... Smith. My friend."
The Senator offered a welcoming smile and, as they shook hands, Grace had to wonder what he thought of Bo. She was a tall, handsome woman, with auburn hair, hazel eyes, and a high voltage smile. The deep red suit she was wearing enhanced her dramatic looks and was tailored to fit her curves. Standing next to her Grace felt washed out, a paler version of the feminine air Bo exuded like an exotic scent.
When they stepped forward into an elegantly appointed room, a crowd of twenty let out a chorus of greetings. A glass of wine was pressed into her hand and Grace tried to relax and enjoy herself as Carter and Nick came over. She was so happy to see them.
Throughout the cocktail hour, she always knew where Smith was. He lingered on the fringes of the crowd, looking comfortable in the group.
She was staring at him, thinking that he fit in well in the elegant atmosphere, when he shifted his eyes to hers. He lifted his eyebrow and sent her a nod.
And that's when she realized it was too late.
Staring at him across the room, seeing the light falling on his hard face, she knew that she was falling in love with him.
That, more than even the passion, was the reason she'd decided to go to bed with him.
Grace looked away quickly, in case he could read her thoughts. Flustered, she escaped the small group she was talking to on the pretext of putting on more lipstick.
As her mind churned over the whys and whens, she knew the jumbled searching was just mental gymnastics. It didn't matter when it started and knowing why wasn't an answer she needed. The truth was in her heart, not her mind.
She was in one of the bedrooms, bending toward the mirror with her lip liner when Mimi Lauer appeared in the doorway.
"I'm so sorry I'm late," the woman said with a smile.
Grace froze as their eyes met in the mirror. She thought of Cuppie and Suzanna before turning and opening her arms. Mimi was in that article, too.
"Mimi, I’m so glad you came! I figured we wouldn't see you because tomorrow is your big night."
Grace hadn't known the Lauers for very long but she'd liked both of them immediately. They'd moved from the West Coast four years ago because their son suffered from a bad case of juvenile arthritis and the treatment options for him were better in New York. Mimi's warm personality and flair for entertaining had served her well in her new environment and she'd risen quickly up the social ladder. For the past two years, she'd been chair of the ballet's annual event.
As they pulled back, Mimi said, "The performance tomorrow night is going to be splendid. They're doing a series of Balanchine favorites, just quick sketches of some of his best."
