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I rose off the bed in a flash, walk-running to the liquor cabinet. I snatched the bottle of bourbon, not bothering to grab a glass.
“Found some.”
“Just pace yourself, though it’s hard to drink too much of it straight. It’s made for sipping.”
Making my way back to the bedroom, I set the bottle down on the nightstand, glancing at the clock.
“Jeez, I better get off the phone. The Glam Squad is supposed to be here in five minutes.”
“See you tonight,” Tessa said.
“I’ll be the one glued to the sexy blond, blue-eyed guy in a tux.”
I drank a few sips of bourbon. It slid down my throat like warm butter, giving me an amber hug.
The “beautify Maggie” crew arrived, armed with hair straighteners and rolling cases of makeup and brushes. They asked to see my gown before starting on my hair and face.
Lucas had a stylist help me choose the gown. I decided on an Oscar de la Renta. It was strapless with emerald green velvet that matched my eyes, overlaid on a foundation of black lace. I felt like a dark princess.
The stylist kept my hair long and slicked straight down my back, while the makeup artist highlighted my green eyes and used my Golly That’s Red lipstick as the showstopper for my lips.
Examining myself in the mirror, I looked like a woman who had a fairy godmother wave her magic wand and transform me. I felt formal, yet in a comfortable way, but I had to admit, my eyes had stars in them. I was like Cinderella going to meet her prince at the ball. My heart fluttered thinking about the night ahead.
Mrs. Wilson was watching Esmé for us tonight at her home. I’d stopped taking care of her son, but we’d remained friends, and became closer, having play dates together, though Esmé just smiled and drooled through most of them.
Lucas: I’m on my way back to the apartment.
Me: I’m ready, but will be hiding out in your office with some bourbon. I want to surprise you after you’re dressed.
Lucas: I can’t wait to see you and the dress. You’ve been so sneaky.
I smiled like the Cheshire Cat. I’d kept everything about tonight a secret—even down to the fact that undergarments didn’t work with this gown.
I heard the click of the front door as I stood against the cool wall of windows behind Lucas’s desk. My heart began to beat faster in anticipation. Would he like what he saw when I walked out of his office? Would we be late when he noticed my slightly overflowing cleavage? My boobs were his weakness.
Minutes felt like hours as I waited. Finally, I heard the tapping of his dress shoes coming down the hallway. Hand at my throat, the suspense killing me.
“Maggie,” Lucas called out. “I going to open the door now.”
I stood still, facing the door with my arms at my side, waiting for him to enter. When he opened the door, he stepped inside and froze in place, his eyes scanning over me. I could feel the heat of them against my skin.
“Fuck, Maggie. You’re a goddess.”
He crossed the office to me in two long strides, then circled his hands around my waist, holding me tight as he gazed down at me, his eyes turning to the sex-needy navy blue.
Forget needing bourbon to relax, I was going to have hot limo sex. Go me!
“The things I feel and want to do seeing you like this…you’re going to drive me wild tonight. I’m also going to want to throttle any man who looks at you.”
I threaded my hands behind his neck, my five-inch heels giving me the added height to reach the skin of his throat, my fingers running over the tempting scruff on his jaw.
“You know,” I singsonged, “I remember watching the red carpet arrivals of celebrity couples on E! Network. They’d get out of their limos and have their clothes straightened by stylists. It was like there had been some hanky-panky on the way there.”
I brushed my finger along the skin above the edge of his collar.
“You’re going to kill me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Once we were outside, Lucas held my hand and helped me into the back seat of the limo, but didn’t enter right behind me. I waited near the door to see what was going on. He was talking to his driver. I strained my ears, being my usual nosy self.
“We don’t need to be at the gala for another fifteen minutes. Make sure you’re not a minute early. Drive through Central Park. Maybe a few times. Understood.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Shaw,” he said, like it wasn’t an unusual request.
I scooted over as Lucas folded his tall body into the car. His black tux with gold and shiny diamond cufflinks made him look like a model straight out of an Armani ad.
