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Three hours later, she left the nail salon with beautifully manicured hands and a gorgeous pedicure. Quinn had been a little ashamed to admit that it had been seven years since her last mani/pedi. After she’d lost everything, she focused on spending only the money she needed to. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be pampered. Her nail technician also did formal up-dos and makeup, and offered to come to her studio after she found her dress and help her get ‘gussied up’ for the party.
Heading into Celeste’s, she was glad she’d stopped to get her nails done before entering what felt like a rarified space.
“You must be Quinn,” said a woman in her early fifties with a thick, aristocratic Cajun accent. “Levi said you would be stopping by. So, you’re going to the Beignet Ball?”
“I am.”
“Good. It is actually my favorite of all the parties. It’s formal, because that’s fun, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously. You have a lovely figure. Let me get your sizes and we can get started. I have a friend who has beautiful shoes. Once we know what dress you’re getting, we can look at shoes and other accessories. Anything you know you like or don’t?”
“Not really. I just want to look good without looking gaudy, and I want the dress to be fun so that when I look at it, it makes me smile.”
“Bien. Let’s get your measurements, and then I’ll start pulling things for you.”
Quinn spent the next two hours getting her measurements and zeroing in on what she wanted. Celeste was good company and was the sixth generation of women named Celeste who had operated the store.
Quinn was trying to decide between two when Celeste suddenly said, “Wait. I know just the dress. It arrived yesterday and I’ve had it hanging to let it breathe and find its shape. I think it’s perfect for you.”
Celeste trotted out of the dressing room and was back in a flash. “Close your eyes. I don’t want you to see it until it’s on you.” At this point, Quinn was pretty much up for anything and complied. Once the dress was settled around her, Celeste turned her back to the three-way mirror. “Voilà! I was right; it is perfect for you.”
Slowly, Quinn opened her eyes and gasped. Celeste was right. It was perfect. It was a lightweight black knit that wasn’t snug anywhere but clung to her curves in all the right places. It had a black background and then in a reverse pattern to the animal that inspired it, ombre orange tiger stripes started at the single shoulder strap and following the neckline of the gown, moved diagonally across her body. The stripes had shimmering sequins, giving the dress an elegant and refined sparkle with a nod to its inspirational animal—the tiger.
“I think only shoes and statement earrings. I had my friend bring up several pairs of shoes, and unless you want stiletto heels, I have the perfect pair.”
Quinn was at a loss for words and merely nodded. Celeste returned, helping her into a pair of black patent-leather, strappy sandals with a moderate heel. They were comfortable and looked as if they’d been made to go with her gown. To complete the outfit, Celeste added a pair of dramatic hoop earrings made from blackened sterling silver with white crystals shimmering amid gold stations. The overall look was dramatic, simple, sophisticated and stunning.
“I’ll take it,” she whispered.
Celeste gave both of her upper arms a gentle squeeze as she peeked from behind Quinn into the three-way mirror. “I predict you will steal the heart and soul of a man at the party tonight. Take care that you cherish him. Now, let’s get you out of here so you can get home and have your hair and make-up done.”
“I think I will arrange for a taxi…”
“Your transportation has been arranged. You have nothing to worry about except having a good time.”
Impulsively, Quinn turned around and hugged the older woman. “Thank you, fairy godmother.”
“It is my pleasure. If I were you, I would go home, take a nap, and then a shower. You don’t want to be falling asleep at the ball, do you? After all, there is no magical spell that will break at the stroke of midnight.”
Celeste would not tell her what anything cost and only assured her it had all been taken care of. Taking her dress in a garment bag and her shoes, earrings, clutch purse and a black sequined and feathered mask in a small, handled store-brand bag, Quinn re-entered the world of a bustling New Orleans.
* * *
Bodie
Bodie paced back and forth in his study. He’d spent the past six hours going over everything they knew about Gutierrez, his crew, and their plans. Navarro was right; he had everything well in hand, and they were as prepared as they could be.
His cell phone rang. “Lambeau.”
“It is done, my alpha,” said the female voice on the end of the line. “Your mate will be at the ball. She is beautiful, kind, and witty. You have chosen well despite her being human.”
“I would remind you; the choice was never mine. Quinn Forrester is my fated mate.”
CHAPTER7
QUINN
Quinn all but skipped home. Skipping and giggling. No one who knew her—past or present—would have believed it. It was as if the world had finally spun around and come back on its axis. She trotted up the stairs to her studio and opened the door. What she had once found as evidence of all she had lost, she now found as evidence of her strength and determination. The studio might be small, but it easily accommodated her needs and her renovations had left it stylish and comfortably elegant. There wasn’t a single surface she hadn’t touched. No doubt the so-called friends she’d left behind in New York would see it as a huge step down, but Quinn disagreed. For her it embraced and embodied her rise from the ashes.
She carefully hung up her new dress and put her accessories out on the kitchen counter where they would be safe and easily found. She meant to take Celeste’s advice to heart. She stripped out of her clothes and not bothering to even pull on a sleep shirt, set her alarm, rolled into bed, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.
