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“Yeah, fantastic. Such fun. We didn’t get back to the house until one a.m., and then Juliette and Aroha decided to stay, and we didn’t go to bed until two.”
“I bet you’re tired now.”
“I’m on a high,” she says, “although I’ll probably crash early tonight. Belle said she’s going to bed early too because she’s so tired. Not that you can tell. Look at her.” She glances to her left.
I follow her gaze and spot her sister standing at the beginning of the aisle, talking to Freddie. My heart gives an uncharacteristic jump as I inhale. Jesus, she looks amazing. I’ve rarely seen her in anything but jeans or shorts and tees. Her dress is a deep plum color, and the hemline reveals her knees at the front and drops to mid-calf at the back, and she’s wearing sexy, black, high heeled sandals. For once she has her hair down, and it bounces around her bare shoulders in attractive waves. For once she looks her age, the sophisticated, gorgeous young woman she is.
“Wow,” I say before I can think better of it. I blink and look back at Gaby.
Her lips have curved up a little. “Like what you see?” she teases.
I glance at Tyson, who chuckles. “Quite the swan, isn’t she?” he says. “She looks beautiful tonight.”
“She always looks beautiful,” I reply, returning my gaze to her. “But yeah, tonight she’s… sublime.”
I watch her talking to Freddie. He’s the same age as her, and I can tell by the way he can’t take his eyes off her that he’s attracted to her. He says something that makes her laugh, and the way she does it tells me she likes him. Well, why wouldn’t she? She’s young, single, and gorgeous. She could have any guy she wants.
“Don’t glower,” Gaby says.
I give her a wry look. “Hope you have a nice evening.” Leaving them chuckling, I walk over to Belle.
She glances at me as I approach, and I have the pleasure of seeing her eyes widen. I’ve taken care over my appearance this evening—I’m wearing a new dark-gray Italian suit that fits really well, and I’ve tamed my somewhat unruly hair with product. I’ve even shaved, which I haven’t done for a while, getting rid of the stubble I’ve been sporting.
“Excuse me,” Freddie says, “I should be checking on the guests.”
“See you later,” Belle replies, and she gives him a parting smile before turning her attention to me. “Well, don’t you look the bee’s knees,” she says, her gaze brushing down me, feather light.
“You look absolutely stunning,” I return, glowing a little at her compliment.
“Thank you.” She blushes and touches her hair self-consciously. “Gaby tried to de-frizz it. It’s already fighting back.”
I chuckle. I’m tempted to slide my hand into the brown waves and see if they’re as soft as they look. Up close, I can see she’s wearing makeup. It’s subtle but elegant—black winged eyeliner, smoky gray shadow, and long, fluttery eyelashes. It suits her. I feel as if I opened an animal trap expecting to find a kitten and I’ve discovered a vixen inside.
She lifts a hand to cup my face and brushes my jaw with her thumb, light enough to make me shiver. “So smooth,” she murmurs, before lowering her hand.
She holds my gaze, and the moments tick by. I realize too much time is passing without us saying anything, but I’m momentarily lost for words, captured by her startling blue eyes. Her lips curve up, and her eyes are warm. They transport me right back to the Jag, and the way they glittered in the light from the passing cars, while I slid my hand beneath her jeans, into her underwear, and down into the heart of her.
Up to this point, because I’ve known her a long time, and maybe because she dresses and acts young, I’ve thought of her as a girl, Alex’s little sis who I came close to corrupting, and not, I’m ashamed to say, as an equal. But suddenly, even though I know there are six years between us, and although she might not be as experienced as me in bed, I see her as what she is—a mature, beautiful, sexy woman.
“Michelle!”
We both turn, and Belle’s smile fades at the sight of Kaitlyn Cross coming into the garden.
“Fuck,” Belle mumbles.
In the past I’ve always thought Kaitlyn looked like her daughters, but tonight she looks quite different. She’s the same height as them, but she’s lost a lot of weight, and she’s wearing a black pantsuit that’s surprisingly plain, with a white shirt that emphasizes the lack of color in her face. Her long brown hair is scooped up in a tight bun, and although she’s wearing makeup, it’s minimal and in neutral shades. The only concession to her wealth is the pair of diamond earrings she’s sporting that sparkle in the evening light. If she was hoping to go unnoticed, though, it hasn’t worked, because she’s still stunning, and the stark outfit only serves to make her stand out more in a room that’s filled with women who look like flowers in their colorful outfits.
“Well, look at you,” Kaitlyn whispers, her eyes wide as she studies her daughter. Her accent is an odd mixture of Kiwi and Californian. She glances at me, then, and smiles. “Quite the butterfly emerging from the chrysalis, isn’t she?”
I happen to agree, but it sounds patronizing to say so, so I just give a polite smile.
“What’s a mother got to do to get her daughter to come and see her?” Kaitlyn says. Her tone is teasing rather than sharp, but Belle still bristles.
“It helps to be in the country,” she replies. “And I’ve been busy. I’m not going to drop everything and come running just because you snap your fingers.”
Without looking at me, she turns and walks away, over to Gaby, who’s still standing by the door, greeting her guests.
Kaitlyn stares at her, then looks at me. She blinks, then forces a smile on her face. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Michelle and Gaby’s mother, Kaitlyn Cross.”
