Читать книгу One Summer In New York - Trish Wylie - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH my clothes?” Holly demanded as Leonard helped them out of the car in front of a Fifth Avenue shopping mecca.

“Not a thing. You do the artist with paint on her hands bit quite well. All you need is a French cigarette in your mouth and a beret on your head,” Ethan answered.

“Very funny.”

He laid his hand on the center of her back to guide her through the store’s revolving entrance door. Holly’s shoulders perked up at his touch.

“However,” he continued as they bustled through the busy sales floor, “there is the shareholders’ gala, and then there’ll be charity dinners and social occasions we will be attending. As we discussed, this arrangement necessitates an appropriate wardrobe.”

When they reached the Personal Styling department, an older blonde woman in a sleeveless black dress and pearls was awaiting their arrival.

“Are you Diane?” Ethan extended his right hand. “My assistant, Nathan, spoke with you earlier.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Benton.” Diane took his outstretched hand with both of hers.

“This is my friend Holly Motta.”

“Oh...” Diane gave her a limp handshake, taking notice of the paint under Holly’s fingernails.

“Hi!” Holly chirped.

She was going to have to get used to the surprise in people’s voices when they met her. Everyone probably knew Ethan as a wealthy playboy who dated fashion models and princesses of small countries. He’d have no reason to be with a mere mortal like her.

Ethan raised his eyebrows at Holly, which made her giggle and feel more at ease.

He peered straight into Holly’s eyes while he spoke to the other woman. “Diane, my friend will be accompanying me to numerous events. She is an artist, with little need for formal clothes. Can you help us outfit her in a way that stays true to her creative and unique self?”

Holly’s mouth dropped open. Could anyone have said anything more perfect? He wanted to buy her clothes but he didn’t want to change her.

Diane was stunned as well. “Cer...certainly,” she stuttered. “Can I offer you a glass of champagne?”

And thus began her trip to Fantasyland. While Ethan sipped bubbly on a purple velvet settee, Diane showed Holly into a private dressing room that was larger than all the fitting rooms in the discount shops she usually went to put together.

Six full-length mirrors were positioned to allow for a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. The carpet was cream-colored, as was the furniture—no doubt chosen so as not to compete with the clothes. A vanity table with padded chair was ready for any primping needs. Hats, gloves, scarves and purses had been pre-selected and lay waiting in a glass display case. A collection of shoes stood neatly on a shoe rack. Jackets and coats hung from pegs.

Diane ducked away behind one of the mirrors.

Holly whistled out loud as she took it all in. And then laughed at her predicament. She’d overheard Ethan talking on the phone in the car about a Diane. And a Jeremy. He had prearranged the gallery visits and now this, too. And Holly had thought herself to be the taking-care-of-business type! She could take a lesson from him.

“We’ll start with daywear,” Diane announced as she wheeled in a rack of clothes.

Besides the fact that there hadn’t been any money when she was growing up, Holly had never been especially interested in clothes. She dressed functionally and comfortably, and ended up staining most everything with paint anyway. But if she had ever dreamt of wearing stylish garments made of luxurious materials these would be them.

The first ensemble Holly tried on was a white pantsuit. The slim line of the trousers made her legs look eight feet long. And the coordinating blazer with its thin satin lapels was both distinguished and chic. Worn with a navy silk shirt unbuttoned one notch past prim, the outfit delivered “sexy” as well.

Diane moved in quickly to pin the jacket’s waist for a trimmer fit.

She suggested Holly try a brown slingback shoe, then plucked the proper size from a stack of boxes waiting at the ready. Diane might be a bit snobby, but she sure as heck knew what she was doing.

“Perhaps you’d like to add a touch of lipstick?” Diane inquired—a polite way of reminding Holly that she’d need to attend to her makeup and hair.

Diane opened a drawer in the vanity table that contained a palette of options. Holly dabbed on some lip gloss, undid her ponytail and brushed her hair. Surveying herself in the mirror, she knew this was without question the best she had ever looked.

“Shall we show Mr. Benton?” Diane suggested.

When Holly stepped into the waiting lounge that seemed destined for wealthy boyfriends and mothers of brides, Ethan was busy typing into his phone.

He leaned comfortably back on the settee with one leg crossed over the other knee. Effortless elegance. Although the wavy reddish-brown hair that always had a bit of a tousle to it made sure hints of his untamed side came through.

Ethan glanced up. His eyes went through her and then right back down to his phone.

Holly was delighted as recognition gradually took hold. His jaw slackened. Eyebrows bunched. Nostrils flared.

Only then did his eyes rise up again for the double-take.

And take her in he did, indeed. Ever so slowly. From the tip of her head to the pointy toes of her designer shoes. His gaze was wicked. As if she was standing in front of him naked rather than dressed in this finery. The feeling thrilled and aroused her down to her core.

That smile made its way millimeter by millimeter across Ethan’s face. “My, my...”

“So you approve?” she flirted.

“To say the least.”

“Do you want to see more?”

Focused on the opening of her shirt, where perhaps that questionable button should have been closed but wasn’t, he sighed. “I would most definitely like to see more.”

She pivoted, and when her face was out of view from him let a satisfied grin explode. This was so much fun. She was long overdue for some harmless fun. Harmless, right?

Diane helped her into the next outfit and pinned it for alterations. Another silk blouse—this one black, with a square neckline and a gold zipper down the back—tucked into a tan pencil skirt. The look was dressy, but edgy.

Ethan’s reaction was all she could have hoped for as he lingered over the snug fit of the skirt across her hips.

Next, dark wash jeans tucked into boots and a flowing white blouse were complemented by Holly’s own black leather jacket.

“More,” Ethan demanded.

A crisp red dress with a pleated skirt, short sleeves and matching belt provided a timeless silhouette.

A silver satin cocktail dress draped her curves without being tight. At the sight of her in that one, Ethan shifted in his seat.

As a kid, Holly had sprouted up early and had always been the tallest girl in her class. She remembered feeling big and awkward. It had taken her years to train herself out of slouching her shoulders forward. Slim, but with hips wider than was proportionate to her small bustline, she’d never thought she wore clothes well.

Until today.

With Diane’s wizardry to pinch here and fold there, these clothes looked as if they’d been custom-made to flatter her perfectly.

In all, ten outfits were put together, ranging from casual to semi-formal. Extra pieces would be added to mix and match.

Ethan had promised that no matter what happened with their phony engagement the clothes would be hers to keep. That had meant nothing to Holly when he’d said it, but now she understood how important an offer that was.

In these outfits she was distinctive. They made a statement. The woman who wore them was someone to take seriously. These were clothes that were the epitome of good taste, that she could—and would—care for and wear for years to come.

But the pièce de resistance came when Diane brought out an evening gown for the black-tie shareholders’ gala. Tears unexpectedly sprang in Holly’s eyes at the artistry of it. She couldn’t fathom ever needing a dress so fancy.

It was a pearly sky-blue completely covered in hand-sewn crystals. Holly was surprised at how much the gown weighed. Sleeveless with a deep-scooped neck, it skimmed the floor until Diane had her step into coordinating high-heeled sandals.

Whether the dress complemented Holly’s icy blue eyes or her eyes enhanced the dress, it didn’t matter. There couldn’t be a more perfect gown.

She hoped Ethan liked it.

As she stepped into the lounge to model it for him, she wanted to be sure that she was wearing the gown rather than the gown wearing her. Standing up straight, with her shoulders back, Holly reminded herself of what she had learned from the posture correction videos that had helped her rid herself of her slump. Stand tall. Ribs over hips. Hips over heels.

She smiled demurely at Ethan as she approached.

He hiccupped as he almost choked on his sip of champagne.

Holly giggled. She high-fived herself in her mind. Mission accomplished.

She cooed, high on a unique rush of power she’d never known she had, “Do you still want to marry me?”

Ethan set his champagne flute down on the side table and cleared his throat. “You have no idea...”

* * *

“One more stop and then we will go to dinner,” Ethan said as he ushered Holly back into the car.

Leonard shut the passenger door, then went around to slide into his place behind the wheel. He deftly maneuvered them away from the curb to join the Fifth Avenue traffic.

Ethan was thinking ahead. “What else do you need for the gala? I assume you would like to have your hair and makeup done?”

“Please.”

“I will have Nathan book that.”

Holly held her hands up in front of her. There was often a rainbow of colors staining her fingers and nails, but today it was just the Cobalt Two Eleven leftover from last night’s spill. “And I think I need a manicure, don’t you agree?”

“The way you look in that gown, I doubt anyone would notice.”

No fair for him to say things like that. Things that made her want to lean over and cover his luscious lips with an hour-long kiss. Not fair at all for him to speak words that made her contemplate what it would be like to be with someone who made her feel good about herself. Who was on her side.

Not just for business purposes.

Gridlocked traffic was only allowing them to inch forward. The rain had ceased for the moment but the sky was a thick grey. Throngs of pedestrians rushed to and fro. Some darted across the streets, jaywalking quickly in between cars. Horns honked. Drivers yelled at each other. Music blared from taxicab radios. A siren screamed.

Together, it sounded like a riotous symphony. New York was alive and kicking.

One minute she had been crammed into an economy seat on a packed airplane, headed for the Big Apple and who knew what. And then a minute later she was modeling a jewel-encrusted evening gown for a young billionaire.

A smokin’ hot young billionaire who had ogled her as if he not only wanted to see those clothes on her, but also wanted to see them in a heap on the floor beside his bed.

By the end of her fashion show Holly had been imagining it as well. How it might feel to have Ethan’s big and no doubt able hands unzipping the zippers and unbuttoning the buttons of those finely crafted garments.

How far would it be safe to go with this charade they had embarked on? Surely not as far as clothes being strewn at the bedside.

Holly was going to have to learn to regally accept a peck on the cheek in front of other people without melting into a puddle of desire. She might have to place a reciprocal smooch on Ethan’s face at some point. If push came to shove she might even have to receive a kiss on the lips at, say, the shareholders’ gala when their engagement was announced.

She had no idea how she’d handle that, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. However, under no circumstances would her make-believe fiancé’s tuxedo—or anything else of his—end up crumpled at the foot of her bed.

No one would ever see them behind closed doors. And she’d do well to remember that to a man like Ethan Benton this was all just a deal. A game. A con. He’d only go as far as was absolutely necessary to do what he deemed right for his aunt Louise’s future.

Holly would keep her eye on the prize. A great place to live, steady work, a leg-up for Vince. That was more than she could have ever hoped for. Let alone on her first day here. That was enough. That was astounding.

“Out.” Ethan opened the car door in the middle of the street. “This traffic is unbearable. We will go on foot.”

“What?”

He firmly grasped Holly’s hand and slid them out of the backseat. “Leonard, meet us in front,” he instructed, before thumping the door shut. He tugged Holly. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as he ushered her to the sidewalk.

“I told you. One more stop.”

They joined the masses of legs charging north on Fifth Avenue. New Yorkers during rush hour. Always in a hurry. Always somewhere to go. The air was cold. The pace was exhilarating.

Maybe this would become home. Maybe this enthralling city itself would fill up the emptiness she’d always had inside.

Two blocks later she stopped dead in her tracks. They had arrived at their destination. She looked up to take in the majesty of the Art Deco architecture. The bronze sculpture of Atlas holding up the building’s clock. The elaborate window displays.

People were moving in and out of the store’s entry doors. Many of those leaving held the light blue shopping bags that were known the world over.

“I do not suppose it would do for my fiancée to wear an engagement ring made from a beer bottle wrapper,” he said, and winked.

So he hadn’t brought her to a jewelry store to get a ring. He’d brought her to THE jewelry store.

Ricky had never given her an engagement ring. They’d waited for a sale at the jewelry store in their local mall and bought the two cheapest gold bands there. It had only been last month that she’d gotten around to selling hers for bulk weight to help pay for her plane ticket to New York.

Now she was standing in front of the most well-known jewelry store in the world! Little blue bags!

Inside, Ethan gave his name and they were immediately escorted to the private salon. A man in a pinstriped suit introduced himself as Jeremy Markham.

Again Holly remembered hearing Ethan on the phone that morning with his assistant, Nathan, mentioning a Diane and a Jeremy. Diane was clothes...obviously Jeremy was jewels. Ethan had everything figured out.

“Jeremy, we will need some help with a wardrobe of jewelry in the weeks to come, but today we would like to choose a diamond ring.”

“Of course, sir. May I present a selection?”

Ethan nodded.

A private appointment to pick out an engagement ring? Ho-hum, just an ordinary day.

“Please, sit down.” Jeremy, chin up high, held a chair out for Holly after giving her a once-over. Like Diane with the clothes, had this salesman who clearly only dealt with VIPs already figured out that Holly was just one big fake? Another opportunist going after a rich man’s money.

Using a key extracted from his jacket pocket, Jeremy let himself into a back room.

Ethan pulled a chair next to Holly’s.

“Check these out!” she exclaimed at the glass case to the left of them.

A heritage collection of gemstone jewelry was on display. Elaborate necklaces and bracelets made from pounds of gold and carat upon carat of colorful stones. The pieces were too ornate for her taste, but she was attracted to the hues.

What had really caught her eye was a simple ring of blue topaz. The stone was a large oval cut, bordered on each side by two small diamonds.

“Look at how stunning that ring is. That blue is so brilliant it’s blinding. Light is bouncing off it in twenty different directions.”

Holly’s eyes were light blue, like the stone. It had always been her favorite color from as far back as she could remember. Maybe that was why she’d instantly fallen in love with the sky-blue evening gown Ethan had bought for her.

While it had always been pink for girls and blue for boys Holly, as usual, had swum against the stream. It wasn’t as if the trailer she’d lived in with her mom and brother had had any décor to it. The walls had been covered in flowery peeling wallpaper. Sheets and blankets had always been chosen by what was on clearance sale, which had usually translated to scratchy fabrics with dark prints. But Holly could remember a few occasions when her father had been in town for a day or so with some money and bought her new clothes. She’d always chosen items in shades of blue.

“It’s just dazzling,” she continued, pointing to the ring. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Ethan glanced over to it and shrugged his shoulders, indifferent.

Jeremy returned with two velvet trays that held a wide variety of ring styles, all with humongous diamonds.

Ethan whispered to Holly, “We ought to be able to find something perfect amongst these.”

She shot one final glance at the astounding blue topaz. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss...”

* * *

“Feng, we will start with hot and sour soup. Follow that with the chef’s special duck, beef with broccoli, shrimp chow mein. And oolong tea.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ethan.” The waiter bowed and hurried away.

After the jewelry store, Ethan had instructed Leonard to drive them to Chinatown. Now he and Holly were comfortably ensconced in a booth at a casual restaurant his family often frequented when they were in New York.

“I am famished,” Ethan proclaimed. “Shopping is exhausting.”

With a suitably enormous diamond engagement ring now on Holly’s finger, the day’s checklist was complete. They had been downtown, midtown, and now back downtown, but he was craving familiar food.

“Do you do a lot of shopping?” Holly questioned.

“I suppose I do my fair share, but it is not an activity I have a feeling for one way or another,” he lied.

Watching Holly model one comely outfit after another would rank pretty darn high on his list of pleasurable pastimes. Although a lot of his other work had been accomplished today as well, thanks to the convenience of technology. Securing a fiancée had been at the top of his to-do list.

“Do you...” Holly twirled a lock of her raven hair “...shop for women on a regular basis?”

Hmm...fishing, was she?

“Women have dragged me to find gold in China, the finest silks in India, the best leather in Buenos Aires, if that is what you are asking.”

She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and sat up straight. “Oh.”

The previous women in his life were a sore point with him. In fact Ethan and women had never been a good combination, period. Going all the way back to his mother. Other than Aunt Louise, every woman Ethan had encountered seemed to him to be one hundred percent selfish. Only out for what they could get. Gifts, money, travel, status—you name it.

Which was why he was resolute that he’d never fall in love. To love you had to trust. And that was something he was never going to be tricked into again.

So it was a logical step for him to dream up this scheme that would allow Aunt Louise to think Ethan had found lifelong love as she had with Uncle Mel. Ethan would never have to marry a woman whose motivation he’d question. Intention, compensation and expectation were all upfront with this plan. It might be the brainiest partnership deal he’d ever conceived.

“Hot and sour soup.” Feng placed the steaming bowl on the table. While he ladled out two servings he questioned, “May I ask if Mrs. Louise is feeling better?”

His aunt Louise had been in New York several times in the past few months. Feng had probably seen her more recently than Ethan had.

“Was she unwell when she was last here?”

The waiter pursed his lips and bowed his head, which said more than any words could.

Ethan’s heart sank. This validated the fact that he was on the right track. Doing whatever it took to get Aunt Louise to retire and relax in Barbados before worse things than stumbles and bruises stole her dignity.

It was all going to work out.

As long as Ethan continued to stare past but not into Holly Motta’s face. Because when he did steal a glance she didn’t look like a business proposition. Or a gold-digger out to get what she deemed hers. With that slouch she kept correcting, and that milky skin, and the hint of ache in her eyes...

No, she was a living, breathing, kindred spirit who could shred his master plan into a million slices if he wasn’t careful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked with her spoon in the air.

“Like what?” Ethan threw back his head with an exaggerated nonchalance.

She gave him a mock frown.

“Eat your soup,” he told her.

One very ungenteel slurp later... “Yummo!”

“We should learn more about each other if we are to be convincing as a couple. You clearly like food.”

He mocked her slurp until they were both laughing.

“My turn,” she said. “You’re an only child.”

“You have one brother.”

“You studied at Oxford.”

“What is your favorite movie?”

Holly dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Are you kidding me? If we’re going to get to know each other we have to get real. What is the one thing that has hurt you the most in your life?”

His mother. Of course it was his mother. Nothing could devastate a nine-year-old boy more than being left behind by his mother. It was horrible enough that his father had died instantly when a drunk driver had plowed into his car at racing speed, killing him instantly. But then shortly after that to lose his mother in the way he had... It was unthinkable.

“Beef with snow peas. Shrimp chow mein. Chef’s special duck,” Feng announced as he and another waiter positioned the platters in the center of the table. “Please enjoy.”

Saved by the duck.

Ethan wasn’t going to expose his darkness and despair to someone he’d met only yesterday. As a matter of fact he wasn’t in the habit of talking about his feelings with anyone. It was better that way.

He scooped a portion of each dish onto his and Holly’s plates.

But wasn’t it rather amazing that this woman was so genuine she didn’t want to discuss trivial matters?

As she lifted her chopsticks to grab at her chow mein he admired the diamond ring he had put on her finger. It was staggering in its size and clarity, and he knew any woman would be filled with pride to wear something so timeless and flawless.

Yet he could kick himself because he hadn’t bought her the blue topaz ring she had admired at the store!

Quick thinking had told him to buy the type of ring that was expected of him. Anything other than a traditional diamond engagement ring would invite inquiry. Such as where and why and what sentiments had inspired him to buy such an unusual ring. Those were extra questions they didn’t need. It would just add to the risk of them flubbing up as a believable couple.

But now he thought blue ring, purple ring, green ring—what would it matter if that was what she wanted?

Pulsing and vibrant, Holly Motta had careened into his apartment with blue paint on her face and, he feared, had changed his life forever. Forcing him to think about women differently than he ever had. Making him for the first time vaguely envision a role in which he cared if someone was happy. Edging him into speculation about what it would be like if someone cared about his happiness, too.

And now she was making it hard to concentrate on anything other than leaping across the table and planting a kiss on that sweet mouth that was busy with noodles.

After a bite of food to steady himself, Ethan resumed their interview. “Tell me something about yourself that I would not have guessed.”

“I used to be—” she blurted, and then abruptly stopped herself. She put her chopsticks down and took a slow sip of her tea. Trying to recover, she finished with, “A pretty good softball player.”

Aha, so it wasn’t as easy for her to be as open and candid as she wanted him to believe it was. What had she been about to say that had proved too difficult to reveal? And what had she avoided telling him at breakfast that morning about the mother she’d characterized as unpredictable?

He’d gone along with her easy sincerity, but Ethan really didn’t know the first thing about her. He’d garnered that she’d had a difficult childhood, but it wasn’t like him to take anyone at face value. Not after what he’d seen of life.

Guard and defend.

He had his family’s empire to protect.

“Excuse me,” he said as he put his chopsticks down and pulled out his phone. “I have just remembered one more bit of business for the day.”

He texted Chip Foley, Benton Worldwide’s Head of Security. Just as he’d intended to do if he’d hired an actress for the fiancée job.

Chip, please run everything you can on a Holly Motta from Fort Pierce, Florida. Claims her occupation is artist. I would place her age at about thirty. Tall, slim, blue eyes, black hair. She says her brother Vince works for us in Miami. I do not know if it is the same last name. Do an across-the-board check on her for me.

After hitting the “send” button, his eyes returned to Holly.

She pointed her chopsticks at him and taunted, “Hey, you never told me what it was in your life that hurt you the most.”