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He doubted she’d thank him if he said she looked adorable. “You know, if you left one of those shoes behind...”
“A frog would find it?”
“Some of us are princes in disguise—isn’t that how the story goes?”
“Well, this princess is saving herself,” she said as she walked past him, head held high, “and not kissing any more frogs!”
Six
The Armani suit was fine, but Rick drew the line at a manicure. He did his own nails, thanks.
In his opinion, premieres and award ceremonies were an evil to be endured, which was another reason he liked his low-profile, low-key existence. Tonight at least was for a good cause—the Ring of Hope Gala to Benefit Children’s Charities.
The fund-raiser also explained why Chiara’s spacious den was a hub of activity on a Saturday afternoon. The room was usually a quiet oasis, with long windows, beige upholstery and dark wood furniture. Not now, however.
Chiara sat in the makeup chair. Someone was doing her hair, and another person was applying polish to her nails, and all the while Chiara was chatting with Odele. A fashion designer’s intern had dropped off two gowns earlier, and at some point, Chiara would slip into one of them, assisted by plenty of double-sided tape and other tricks of the Hollywood magic trade.
Rick figured this amounted to multitasking. Something women were renowned for, and men like him apparently were terrible at—when the reality was probably that men just pre
ferred to do their own nails.
Suddenly Odele frowned at Chiara. “Have you gone through your normal skincare regimen?”
“Yes.”
Rick almost laughed. For him, a regimen meant a grueling workout at the gym to get ready for stunts on his next film. It didn’t apply to fluffy skincare pampering.
Odele rolled her eyes. “I imagine you raided the kitchen cabinets for sugar and coconut oil, and threw in some yogurt for one of your crazy DIY beauty treatments.”
From her chair, Chiara arched her eyebrows, which had been newly plucked. “Of course.”
Rick studied those finely arched brows. He hadn’t known there was such a thing as threading, and especially not applied to eyebrows. He was a Martian on planet Venus here. Still, he could understand that for an actress like Chiara, whose face was part of her trade, the right look was everything. Subtle changes or enhancements could impact her ability to express emotional nuances.
His gaze moved to Chiara’s mouth. Their interlude in the exercise room still weighed on him. She’d been so damn responsive. If she hadn’t put a stop to things, he would have taken her right there on the weight bench. In fact, it had been all he could do to keep a cool head the past few days. If it hadn’t been for work on the movie set and coming back exhausted after a fourteen-hour day...
Odele sighed. “You’re the bane of my existence, Chiara. You could be the face of a cosmetics and skincare line. You’re throwing away millions.”
“My homemade concoctions work fine,” Chiara responded.
“You make your own products?” Rick asked bemusedly.
Chiara shrugged. “I started when I was a teenager and didn’t have a dime to my name, and I saw no reason to give it up. I use natural items like avocado.”
“Me, too,” Rick joked. “But I eat them as part of my strength-training routine.”
Chiara peered at him. “I could test the green stuff on your face. You might benefit.”
Rick made a mock gesture warding her off. “No, thanks. I’m best friends with my soap.”
“Not everyone is blessed with your creamy complexion, Chiara,” Odele put in. “Have a little sympathy for the rest of us who could use expensive professional help.”
The hairstylist and manicurist stepped away, and Chiara stood, still wrapped in her white terry robe. “Well, time to get dressed.”
Rick smiled. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Odele steamed toward him like a little tugboat pulling Chiara’s ship to safe harbor. “We’ll call you when we need you.”
He shrugged. “More or less explains my role.”
