Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (14 page)

After sitting on the sofa for another few minutes, I realized I was sleepy, probably from the whiskey and emotional strain. Giving up on making any sense of it all, I stumbled to my bed and hoped Taylor was right. About everything.

***

When the alarm rang the next morning, my first realization was that my mouth was dry and my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. The second realization was that I had a pounding headache. It wasn’t the whiskey, I decided; it was from the restless dreams I’d had all night. Most of them had something to do with being chased by leopards and Des Bannerman’s laughter.

I stumbled to the kitchen for a glass of water. “How are you doing?” Taylor asked. She was sitting at the table drinking juice and reading the paper.

“Fine, I’m fine. It will all be fine.” I stumbled out of the kitchen, heading toward the bathroom. “At least work will keep me busy until the police arrive,” I added.

***

Finally Friday arrived, and with it no signs of the police. Sitting at my desk, I sorted through piles of papers, email, and phone messages. Still nothing from Tiziana. I contemplated calling her, but the rational part of me had long since decided that she was busy with work and wedding planning. No doubt she would call when she could. The less rational side of me wondered if she wasn’t calling because she didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. In the end, I decided to get on with the mountain of work I had to accomplish before I could leave for the weekend.

After we’d talked on the phone all week, this was the night I was finally going to see Liam. Our first solo date. We were supposed to drive with Taylor and Marcus to the Clarkson Estate Saturday morning.

While chatting on the phone yesterday, I had mentioned that I was glad that Easter weekend had arrived.

“Me, too! I just love decorating Easter baskets, egg hunts, and buying a new bonnet!” Liam had teased.

“Great! Perhaps we could go shopping for bonnets after work! We could meet in the accessories department at Bloomingdales around 7:30?” I’d suggested.

“Let me look at my schedule.
Hmm
, I have a manicure at 11:00, a fashion shoot at 1:30, and drinks with a columnist from
Cosmo
at 6:00. I think I can make it to Bloomingdales by 8:00. Would that be too late? Or will all the good chapeaux be gone?”

I laughed at the thought of him in a bonnet. “I’m sure only the best ones will be left! 8:00 it is. You’d better get going or you’ll miss your manicure!” I’d said once I’d realized the time.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not having a manicure. I’ll leave that to the fairer sex. I’m meeting with a fashion editor from
Vogue
while she has her nails done. It was the only time she could squeeze me in. I think she was a bit surprised when I said I’d join her there.”

Impressed with his commitment to his job, I’d said, “Good luck! I’ll see you at 8:00.”

After wishing me a great day, he’d hung up.

Staring out my office window, I realized that in most respects, it had been a fabulous spring. I prayed that that was an indicator of things to come. For months I had been on edge, and the winter gloom hadn’t helped. However, the snow had melted, the faint hint of green could be seen on trees, and the air was fresh. Gloom was behind us, and before me was a weekend at the Clarkson Estate in the Hamptons with a gorgeous Irishman. It was just what I needed.

I cheerfully spent the remainder of the day in meetings. Several of our staff members were seeking positions at the new office. The time had come to approach Faith Clarkson about transferring employees from New York to London. All the divisions were sending representatives to London to interview candidates in June. Now that I had met Liam, I was happy that a power-hungry member of my group was interviewing the candidates I’d chosen.

By the end of the day, I was feeling good about our progress and called down to Faith Clarkson’s administrative assistant’s desk. “Ms. Clarkson’s office. This is Jill Grey speaking.” She had the same frosty attitude as our leader. To be fair, she was almost as capable as Faith Clarkson at running the company.

“This is Charlotte Young. I need to make an appointment with Ms. Clarkson for next week,” I said with all the authority I could muster. After looking at both calendars, we agreed on an early morning meeting on Wednesday.

WITH THAT LAST BIT
of work complete, I dashed home to put on a very girly dress designed by Bethany Halvorsen. Bethany was an old friend who had moved to New York with the hope of becoming a model. While she was absolutely beautiful, she had been only moderately successful. Fortunately, she had a natural flair for designing clothes. She would chop and sew her own designs when she couldn’t afford to buy anything in boutiques. Using the connections she made while modeling, she found financial backers. Now, years later, she was able to hold her head high in the fashion world, and I benefited by having a few originals sewn for me every year.

I was finishing up my makeup in front of the bathroom mirror and deciding what to do with my hair when Taylor walked through the front door.

“How are you?” I called out.

“Fine and dandy! Marcus and I are ordering food. Do you want some?” I came out of the bathroom with my hair loose and slipped into my Kate Spade shoes.

“Where are you going?” she inquired with a big smile.

“No more third wheel for me. I have a hot date with an Irishman to buy Easter bonnets!” I grinned back at her.

“Well, stay away from the ones in Chinatown. You might end up with a live animal on it!” She disappeared into the kitchen.

I went back to the bathroom to figure out what to do with my hair. I was twiddling it when Taylor came to chat with me, bringing two glasses of wine.

Sipping from her glass and leaning against the doorframe, she asked, “Have you talked with Liam about Des yet?” All week she had been encouraging me to come clean. She thought it would make me feel better. I knew it wouldn’t.

“I hate my hair. There’s too much of it.” I grimaced at the tangled mess.

“Cut it off! Quit changing the subject,” she replied brusquely while I tugged a comb through it.

“I should! But then I’d have a puffball on top of my head. I’m not changing the subject, I’m ignoring it.” I put down the straightening iron I used to smooth out the curly mess and took a sip of wine. “It’s way too early in the relationship to bring up personal problems and drama. I really like Liam, and I don’t want to scare him off.”

“Well, what if he’s figured out it was you in all those tabloid photos and that Des is your friend ‘Will’? Don’t you think he’s going to think you have more to hide by not telling him?”

I pondered her comments while taking another sip from my glass. Then I offered the best explanation I could. “You have a great point, actually. I’m still trying to figure out exactly why it bugs me so much. I’m sure this doesn’t apply to you, but, in high school I wasn’t Miss Popularity. In fact, quite the opposite. I have the same feeling. It’s like being in high school and the really hot guy randomly starts talking to you. It feels suspicious and wonderful at the same time. Suddenly you’re cool, people invite you to their parties, and you’re swamped with popularity. Then, the really hot guy abandons you for someone else, and you’re back to being a dork. I don’t care about the fame. I just don’t like being dismissed without knowing why. There’s just this lingering shock… I thought I was past all this stuff, but really, it’s just made me question my ability to judge people and situations.”

In a rare display of affection, Taylor gave me a hug and said, “I’m sorry. I know you’re hurt. I’m sorry you were a dork! I won’t say another word on the subject.” A huge promise, coming from one of the most opinionated people I know. And I appreciated her effort in trying to understand my feelings. Especially when I couldn’t understand them myself.

“You’d better get going!” Taylor prompted me.

Jolted out of my thoughts, I grabbed my bag and said, “Don’t wait up!” with a lustful grin on my face.

“Tell me all about it tomorrow,” she said as I closed the door.

I flagged down a cab and made it to Bloomingdales with two minutes to spare. I was casually wandering through the hat department when a sexy voice said near my ear, “Would you care to try this bonnet?” Before I could turn around, a hat made from an Easter basket bedecked with ribbon, flowers, bunnies, and ducks was offered over my shoulder.

“Where did you find this?” I asked Liam as I turned around.

When I plopped the hat on my head, he laughed out loud. I found a mirror on one of the counters and arranged the ribbons to add to the flair. While I was fiddling, he offered to put the hat back in the bag he was holding in his hand.

“You’re not really going to wear that, are you?” he asked dubiously.

“Of course I am, and thank you for such a lovely hat,” I replied in mock sincerity.

“Well, I’m not sure lovely applies, but if you’re determined to wear it, I’ll happily defend your honor!”

He took my hand, and we wandered through the hat department for a few minutes. The looks I received from customers and employees were a mixture of shock and horror. We laughed so hard, it was starting to be painful.

“Take it off! I can’t take it any longer!” he begged.

Regretfully, I gave in, and he restored my bonnet to its bag. Then, with determination, he started to walk toward the store entrance, pulling me by the hand.

“We haven’t found your hat yet,” I reminded him. “We can’t leave.”

“Not to worry. No one will notice me anyway, once you put yours on. Let’s go find food and drink. I’m famished.” He continued to pull me through the door.

We wandered around and soon settled on a bar for an evening of wine, food, and song. I’d never been before, so I took in the atmosphere, which was quite busy and noisy, and hoped the food was as good as the atmosphere.

“How did your day go? Let me have a look at your nails,” I said, grabbing his hand.

“I had a pedicure instead. Would you care to see my toes?” He reached down to untie his shoe.

“Thanks, but I’ll take you up on your offer later. I’m pretty sure you have to have shoes on to get service here.”

“Later it is!” he said, and gave me a very sexy smile.

The rest of the evening was spent in easy, happy banter. I flirted outrageously and was rewarded with his undivided attention. Somehow food and drinks arrived and disappeared, people came and went, and eventually the once noisy and chaotic club turned into a deserted room.

“We’d better get you home so you can pack!” he announced.

“I’d rather not go. Wouldn’t you rather just make up an excuse and spend the weekend here?”

“The obvious answer is yes. But then, you wouldn’t have a fancy Easter dinner to wear your new bonnet to. Not to mention, Taylor and Marcus would never speak to either of us again.”

“Fine,” I whined. “If I have to!”

We took a cab back to my apartment. He walked me to the door and, with my heart racing, gave me the single most seductive, delicious, “you are mine” kiss that I’d ever received.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked a bit breathlessly.

“You just want to have a peek at my toes!” he teased.

“You’ve caught me!” In fact, he had.

***

I woke up with the most incredible sense of well-being, delighted in the feel of every hair, bone, and muscle of Liam as they pressed up against me. Lying still, I watched the dusky purple shadows on the bedroom wall fade with the rising sun.

Liam began to stir in his sleep. His body stretched long, while his hands ran over me. Then he pulled me tightly to him while I turned gelatinous, trying to meld into him. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in years,” he murmured into my hair as his hands trailed down my back. Looking up at him, I saw warmth and tenderness in his eyes. I reached my lips up to his, wanting to convey my desire for him.

The sun had glided higher into the morning sky by the time we presented ourselves to Taylor. She was sitting in the living room, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands, staring out the window at the city. “Morning,” she greeted us.
Bless her!
She didn’t give us funny looks, make any comments, or ask any questions.

“Morning to you,” Liam responded first, a grin on his face. “Out with it! I know you’re dying to say something, so, just get it over with!”

Getting up, Taylor walked to the kitchen to refill her coffee cup. “What are you talking about? If I were to comment every time Charlotte had a man spend the night, every morning would be awkward.” Walking toward the bathroom, she continued, “It’s my job to make sure that nothing gets stolen during the night!” she added as she shut the door.

Liam wrapped me in his arms, looked me straight in the eyes, and very seriously asked, “Who were you planning on having over tonight? It’s going to be awfully crowded in your bed.”

“Well, my options are you, Marcus, and Mr. Clarkson. Taylor would kill me, and Ms. Clarkson would fire me. So, I guess, for tonight, it’ll be just you.” I sighed in disappointment.

Laughing, Liam planted his lips against mine. “I like it. You do cruel well.”

“Thanks, I think.” I was breathless from a mouth-devouring kiss.

“No! Thank
you
for an extraordinary evening… and morning. Much as I hate to say it, I’d better be going.”

After a few lingering kisses at the door, he left to pack his weekend bag. I stared in my closet, trying to figure out what could be sexy, casual, and professional. Mixing a weekend with Liam and Faith Clarkson could prove trying on many levels. I decided to leave the sexy end of things to my lingerie drawer. When I’d packed my overnight bag, I sat on the oversized chair in my room, chewing on my finger and thinking about Liam.

“Come out of there,” Taylor called after knocking on the door.

Time to face the music
, I thought to myself.

She had set her weekend bag near the front door when I entered the room. “I know what you were doing in there!”

Getting myself a cup of coffee first, I walked back to her. “What?”