“You’re the true riches,” I said, understanding fully. I learned so much from my clients. Every one, it seemed, had something to impart about femininity, sexuality, or confidence. I had the best job in the world. “And I love that you’re showing him through photos. That you’re communicating your passion through images.”
And she gave me an idea.
At Lily’s home, I pawed through her closet, hunting for a simple dress. She lived closer to the Strip than I did, and I didn’t want to rush back home to change and shower before we met the guys at The Luxe.
“Ooh! Go for the purple one. You always look good in purple,” Kate said from her spot on the bed, nursing a glass of red wine.
“I do love purple, though this one looks a bit skintight,” I said with a wink. “Do you only own dresses that require shoehorns to fit into?”
“Hey! I have some that aren’t.”
Kate snorted. “Maybe one.”
Lily simply shrugged and raised her wine glass to her lips, taking a sip. “I enjoy those dresses.”
“And Finn does too,” Kate chimed in as I sorted through more clothes, stopping at a fuchsia dress with a neckline that dipped to the belly button, leaving little to the imagination.
I held it up. “Trivia question. This little number was on Lily for how much time before Finn ripped it off?”
Kate thrust her hand in the air. “Five minutes!”
Lily mimed hitting a buzzer. “Oh, so sorry. We’re going to need you to phrase that in the form of a question.”
“What is five minutes, Alex?” she asked, as if Lily were the Jeopardy! host.
In a pitch-perfect imitation of the man, Lily replied, “No. The correct answer is What is five seconds?”
I bowed before her. “Impressive. But it does raise the question—why do you ever wear clothes with him?”
“Yes. I’d like to know that too,” Kate put in, kicking her leg back and forth.
“I often ask myself that as well,” Lily said, then her eyes snapped to her closet. “How about the green one? All the way in the back. I actually haven’t worn it yet.”
I raised a brow. “A virgin dress.”
Kate cleared her throat. “And I believe that raises another question . . .”
“Is the virgin dress for a virgin?” Lily asked.
I reached for the emerald number, slid it off the hanger, then turned around. “No, it’s not for a virgin. It’s for me.”
The squeals could split eardrums.
“You’ve been holding that in for the entire time you’ve been here,” Lily said, then smacked my shoulder. “Shame on you.”
“Tell us everything,” Kate said, patting the bed and taking another drink.
I sat, but I didn’t tell them everything. I told them hardly anything. I was still a private woman with private fantasies. I would keep most of them to myself, and my partner.
And I hoped that partner would always be Adam.
“And it was incredible,” I said, finishing the SparkNotes version. “So incredible that you were right, Lily. When you told me to be careful.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Are you okay?” she asked, placing a hand on my arm.
“I’m fine. I’m great actually. But I wasn’t careful with my heart, though I think that might be for the best. I have a plan. I was listening to another episode of the podcast this morning—”
Kate sat up straighter, her eyes gleaming. “I started listening to that too. Serena is great. That’s her real name. She has a fascinating background and personal story. She brings so much of herself to the show,” she said, enthused as she shared more details on the hostess who’d been my guide through intimacy. “But enough about her. What has she inspired you to do tonight in that emerald dress?”
Something even more daring than the other items on my list.
Something that would require both my body and my heart.
And a whole dose of crazy confidence.
24
Adam
The music pulsed low at Edge, our crew’s favorite club in the heart of The Luxe Hotel.
Brandon and I were the first to arrive, and we snagged a spot on a velvet couch that the ladies loved. With scotches in hand, we talked about his favorite neighborhoods in Paris, then the best new restaurants in Vegas, before we segued to interesting stories in the news and the world. Books, politics, work, life—we touched on all of it, and more when Jake and Finn joined us.
Jake covered drinks as he’d promised to do, and we toasted when the waiter brought a fresh round.
“To new business,” Jake said, then tipped his forehead to me. “And to doing business with friends. May it always go so well.”
I clinked my glass to his. “And even though you always give me shit, there’s no one I’d rather have inking my deals.”
Finn cleared his throat, chiming in, “So proud of my protégé. I taught Jake well.”
Jake laughed, shooting Finn a look. “Yeah, I’m your business partner, asshole. Not your protégé.”
“Details. Details,” Finn joked, then dropped the teasing. “Best damn business partner ever. And friend.”
Brandon raised his glass. “And let’s drink to old friends.”
“Hear, hear,” I said.
We all toasted to that once more. Finn and Jake had been good friends for years, like Brandon and me. And good friends were the guys you could ask to do anything, as I’d done with Brandon earlier.
A few minutes later, the ladies arrived. Lily strode in first, and Finn stared hungrily at his wife.
Kate followed Lily, and Jake gazed at the tall, willowy brunette like he wanted to tear off her clothes. Nina appeared next, and when my eyes landed on her, my heart hammered against my chest.
This woman had turned my mind upside down in forty-eight hours. The night I’d found her list, I’d still been stalled in my Rose-induced time-out. I was Mr. Thanks But No Thanks when it came to trust. I didn’t want to take a chance with anyone who could stab me in the back.
But then Nina showed me what trust truly was. By opening her innermost thoughts and deepest fantasies to me, and only me. By letting me be her guide through her wild, dirty dreams.
I’d thought I was the teacher, showing her how to have all her filthy fantasies.
Turned out, she’d been teaching me all along.
How to trust again.
How to fall again.
How to open my heart to the woman who was meant to be mine.
Vulnerability.
Intimacy.
Love.
I’d never seen that trio coming, but as Nina walked toward me, exquisitely sensual in an emerald dress that hugged her curves, I saw all that and more.
I saw everything in her.
Before she could reach us, I rose, walking past the other patrons, my eyes only on her. When she was inches from me, I held her face. “You,” I whispered, then I kissed her lips, tasting forever on them.
I’d intended to ask her for number eleven.
I had it all mapped out. How I’d tell her, how I’d let her know she’d stolen my heart.
But when you’re kissing the woman you’ve fallen madly in love with, you don’t always want to wait for the perfect time to tell her.