Authors: Susan Squires
*****
At one the next afternoon, Jane had just finished cleaning up after their lunch. The light filling every square inch of the kitchen had been almost painful, but the BLTs had never tasted so good. It just had to be all the sex they’d been having. In spite of her reserve after seeing so clearly that she was a disappointment to him last night, when they were together sex seemed inevitable. She just had no control. Was this normal? She’d thought that after a couple of times you slowed down. But she couldn’t get enough of him, and he was ready for another round in what she thought must be record time, every time. How many rounds had they done last night? She’d lost count. Not that each wasn’t memorable. Kemble was very inventive. The whole experience was changing her in ways she was sure she didn’t yet understand. Her shyness about her body, and his, had all but disappeared. After making that much love, how could she be shy? Besides, she liked knowing how every inch of his body felt. Of course there were the obvious favorite parts. But she also loved how her palm fitted over his hipbone, and the silky skin in that little indentation between his shoulder muscle and his biceps. Then there were his nipples. She just loved the feel of them tightening under her fingers. All this was not to mention the feel of his big hands on her body.
Goodness. She had to stop this. She was getting wet again just thinking about it. Where was he, anyway? Oh, out by the front entry.
She’d relented this morning, as he sneaked into his computer and did a quick search for chalices in Athens’ museums. Funny, he’d actually asked her permission. And she knew he was worried about what Morgan was doing there. He was true to his word. It had been no more than an hour. And fruitless. His dejected look made her wish she hadn’t agreed.
She heard the front door
open.
“
Come in, come in,” his deep voice sounded, cheerier than before. “You’re right on time.”
Right on time? Who? What was this about?
She came out into the foyer to find three women and a very tall man with a shock of auburn hair shaved at the sides of his head but falling over one eye. The other eye had eyeliner.
“
Trevor Vale,” he said, taking Kemble’s outstretched hand and pulling him in for an air-smack of a kiss in the vicinity of his cheek. Jane saw Kemble’s eyes go round. “You will just love what we have for you, Mr. Tremaine. Where is the lucky lady?” His eyes fell on Jane and his mouth made a little moue of disappointment. “Oh, my.”
Jane felt her eyes get big. Trevor was dressed all in black, except for a vest that looked like some little girl had spilled her turquoise and chartreuse pick-up sticks all over it. The three women were bringing in armloads of very long suit bags. Only one was young. The other two were probably in their fifties. But all were dressed in what Jane guessed to be the latest fashion. This apparently involved lots of twisty scarves and knitted layers with ragged edges in shades of taupe and black. Well, the young one had a very turquoise, very wide belt and teetery chartreuse spike heels. Did she call Trevor to coordinate colors before she came?
Jane didn’t need to glance down at her khaki chinos and crisp white blouse or her loafers to know that the man’s dismay was for her clothes as well as her person. Nor did she have any doubt what was in the long bags. So this was what Kemble had been up to last night. He was playing fairy godmother. Jane felt an intense blush creep up her throat. He felt he had to dress her so she wouldn’t embarrass him tonight. So she didn’t fit in with the Tremaines. Not as though she hadn’t already been acutely aware of that. She sighed. Better to let him dress her than embarrass him. He was looking smug and excited. At least that was an improvement over dejected. And he wasn’t alone in this. After all, what did Kemble know about fashion houses?
“
My crew,” Trevor said, as he pointed to each. “Giselle, Chloe, and Patrice. Where shall we set up? We’ll need a mirror, of course.”
Kemble pointed to the vast living room.
One wall was mirrored, just like the bedroom. And it was flooded with midday sunlight. This was going to be a very uncomfortable afternoon for Jane, for several reasons.
Her worst suspicions about whose aid Kemble had enlisted were confirmed when Drew breezed in behind the bustling crew.
“You can’t believe how long I’ve wanted to do this, Jane,” she said, taking Jane’s shoulders and bending to place a kiss on her forehead. “I’m so glad you’ve finally come around.”
Jane tried to say something, but all that came out was a gurgle.
“Relax, dear. I gave them your sizes and your height and strict instructions to avoid anything too fashion forward.”
Did Drew think this was making her feel better?
Drew turned toward Trevor. “Did you have any trouble?”
“
Carolina and Elie were most cooperative,” Trevor assured her. “Your name is just an ‘Open Sesame,’ ” he smirked. Then he frowned. “That dreadful David over at Gucci made my life hell for about twenty minutes, but he knew he was going to cough up the good ones in the end.” Trevor sniffed. “Why he thought he had to remark on whether chartreuse really goes with my particular shade of auburn, I have no idea.”
“
You said you liked Carolina Herrera and Gucci,” Kemble said, eyes gleaming.
“
And I added Elie Saab, because he does things that will just be fabulous with your figure,” Drew added, motioning the ladies with their bags through to the living room.
“
Giselle, would you have Martin bring in the shoes?” Trevor called. Then he motioned to Jane impatiently. “Come here, my little doe. Let’s get you out of those dreadful . . . clothes.” His distaste advertised that he wasn’t sure they even qualified.
Drew was unzipping bags.
“What have you got for us?”
“
Oh, you are going to love these, Ms. Tremaine.” He giggled. “Oh, it’s Mrs. Redmond, now isn’t it?”
“
Just call me Drew, dear.” She took out what looked to be a pile of sparkles. “Look at this. Fabulous.”
“
Carolina has just outdone herself this season. Wait ’til you see the black tulle.”
“
Oh, I think black will overwhelm her, don’t you?” Drew held up the hanger and champagne-colored sequins spilled in a sinuous fall. The big room was filled with activity. Shoeboxes got piled on the coffee table. More long suit bags were laid on one of the many couches, that is until one of the women rolled in a clothes rack and began hanging them. Drew and Trevor continued to talk about her as though she wasn’t there.
Jane was just about to break and run when Kemble came up behind her and put both big hands on her shoulders.
“Steady as she goes,” he whispered in her ear. “It’ll be fun.”
She looked up at him and saw a soft light in his eyes. The smug look was gone, replaced with—what? Some kind of caring, maybe. Her mind flitted over the conversation at dinner last night. Had he realized that she felt a little wistful for Drew’s long-ago discarded dresses she could never hope to own?
“You shouldn’t have done this,” she whispered back.
“
Why not? You’re my wife. If I can’t buy clothes for my wife, whom can I buy clothes for?” He brushed her ear with his lips. He had to bend to do it, so it was definitely on purpose.
She took a breath and ca
lmed down. He might be embarrassed about what she’d be likely to wear tonight. But it didn’t matter. At least in part, he’d arranged this for her because she’d inadvertently let him know that she liked pretty dresses, and she’d never really had the means to have them. And now she did. Or he did. And anyway, she was going to let them dress her like a doll here, in front of six people, because it wasn’t nice to burst into tears and run from the room when someone had gone out of their way to try to make you happy. Suck it up, Jane.
She managed a wry smile.
“Don’t think they’re going to let me go into the bathroom to try them on in private, are they?”
“
Nope. But I don’t think anyone here cares about seeing you naked but me. And you wouldn’t deny me that small pleasure, would you?”
Jane sighed. Those dresses weren’t exactly going to be worn with a bra.
“Maybe they’ll let me keep my panties on.” She squinted as the sequins on another of the dresses caught the sunlight.
*****
Kemble knew just what this little gathering needed. He strode into the kitchen to the wine cooler and got out two bottles of Tattinger champagne. Good, there were four other bottles in there. Jane liked champagne. She’d been interrupted in the middle of her glass at the Kee/Dev Consortium wedding by her damned, demanding mother. So now he’d make it up to her. Glasses? Check. Above the bar. He’d need six. Ice bucket(s). Of course this house had two ice buckets. Actually a round half dozen stood in a row behind the glass cabinets to the left of the bar, each with its own tiny tongs. Tray. He’d need a tray to carry all this stuff out. He swiveled, scanning the kitchen. He didn’t have time to make an extended search. He might find Jane barricaded in the coat closet if he didn’t get back out there to support her. Okay, the big beaten-copper rectangular plate under that plant would have to do. It didn’t match the rest of the decor, so maybe it was Jane’s. He lifted the plant off the tray, gave it a quick wipe with the bar towel, and presto chango, he had a tray. Mr. Nakamura would be proud.
He got back to the living room just in time to avert disaster. Jane had on a red strapless satin gown all tight over the hips and thighs and then flared at about her knees. The bodice was heart-shaped and hugged the body with some stiff lacy stuff that outlined the heart. Jesus, Mary
, and Joseph, she was gorgeous. All that creamy white skin of her shoulders and breasts . . . Jane really had first-class breasts, and much of them were visible in this little number. She looked like a cross between a mermaid and a very sexy flamenco dancer.
And in her eyes was raw panic.
“Fab-u-lous,” Trevor trilled.
“
Jane, that is just ravishing on you,” Drew said, standing back with one manicured finger to her lips. “A little tightening at the waist, and it’s perfect.”
Jane was teetering on shoes he couldn’t see for the gown, but that may only have been the effect of the hyperventilation she was obviously engaged in.
“Hey, everybody, champagne. I’ll uncork,” Kemble said, to draw everyone’s attention away from Jane. “Drew, will you pour? Or, wait, Trevor, I’ll bet you know your way around a champagne bottle, would you do the honors?”
“
How did you know I was parched?” Trevor asked rhetorically as he turned away from Jane and motioned Kemble to toss him the bar towel. As he went for the champagne corks, Kemble made his way through boxes and bags to his wife. She cast wide eyes up to him.
“
Not the one, huh?” he asked. “You do look ravishing. But it might be hard to walk in.”
She nodded convulsively.
“Plus, it doesn’t seem like a color you’d really wear.”
Suddenly she was hit by a wave of giggles.
“You think?”
He started to laugh with her.
“Red. Not so much.”
“
Not just red,” she managed. “Crimson.”
He shook his head, pretending to consider.
“Valentine red, I’d say.”
“
Or bordello red,” she snorted.
Drew came over to hand them glasses of champagne.
“You two have the giggles before we’ve even gotten to the champagne. I’m glad you’re having such a good time.”
Kemble and Jane tried to suppress the
ir giggles, which only resulted in more snorts.
Drew narrowed her eyes. Then she sighed.
“So, nix to the red?”
Both Kemble and Jane lost it. When Jane finally came up for air, she struggled to compose herself.
“Drew, this would be fabulous on you. You’d make it look like royal red. But it. . . . Well, it really isn’t me.”
Drew looked resigned.
“I should have known you wouldn’t want to make a statement.”
“
That’s not it,” Jane protested.
“
I think she doesn’t like what the red dress is saying, Drew. That’s all.” Kemble made his way over to the rack of dresses, now out of their bags, trying to see them with new eyes. What would Jane like? Maybe something outside her comfort zone, but by a few blocks, not continents. He flipped through the rack. Trevor, Giselle, Patrice, and the young one (what was her name? Oh, Chloe) all gathered round, sipping champagne. He grabbed the hanger of one that was kind of coppery and held it up. A pretty color, but maybe not Jane. It would make her hair look plain brown. And Jane’s hair wasn’t plain brown. He’d seen it in the sunlight this afternoon, and it had a hundred colors in it. He put the dress back. Trevor held a silver-gray one with kind of a see-through overskirt. Jane liked gray. Then he saw that the neckline was cut down to the waist. He didn’t even have to turn around to know what Jane thought of that.
“
You just use tape, darling. It’s terribly secure,” Trevor protested, looking over Kemble’s shoulder at what must be Jane’s expression of horror. Trevor wasn’t going to win that battle.