Julia
When I heard the knock at the door, I assumed it was an employee of the hotel coming to pick up the room-service cart from lunch. Imagine my surprise when it was a delivery. The man entering laid a long garment bag and a large black and white striped bag on the sofa.
“Are you sure you’re delivering this to the correct room number?”
He looked at a slip of paper. “Ms. McGrath, the Terrace suite.”
“That’s me,” I said, warmth filling my cheeks at the realization I was still wearing Van’s shirt. “Oh, let me get you a tip.”
Hurrying to the bedroom, I found my purse and returned with a twenty-dollar bill.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Once he was gone and the door was locked, I went to the sofa, curiosity getting the better of me. Unzipping the long bag, I gasped. It was an evening gown, a stunning red, bright red, cherry red gown.
“Damn you, Van,” I muttered as I pulled it from the bag.
There went my excuse for not attending tonight’s party.
I ran my fingers over the fine fabric, noticing the long cape sleeves. The tag said Safiyaa. Draping the gown over the sofa, I went to the Saks Fifth Avenue bag and discovered matching red shoes—Jimmy Choo patent leather with a rhinestone embellished strap.
If Van’s intention was to make me the center of attention, this would do it.
I’d been so lost in the Wade information that I’d lost track of time. A quick look out the tall windows told me that the sun was starting to set. Van had said he wouldn’t be long, but at least three hours had passed. I looked at my phone, hoping for a message.
As I was about to text him, the door sounded with the noises of it unlocking.
Placing my fists on my hips, I did my best to look mad.
All it took was his gaze going from me to the couch and back to me and the sight of his smile to wear down my pretend anger. “I still don’t want to go.”
Laying his wool coat over a chair, he came my way. His hands gripped my waist as he pulled my hips to his. “What if I promise to make it up to you?”
“Cocktails are at seven. You could make it up to me now.”
“I like the way you think.”
Starting near the top, Van began undoing the buttons of the shirt I wore.
“Do I smell perfume?” I asked, a bit taken aback.
“You may.” His fingers continued their mission.
I took a step away from him. “I’m not the jealous type, Van, and that screwed me with Skylar.”
“The only screwing you got.”
My fists returned to my hips. “Your meeting. It was with a woman.” I wasn’t asking.
“Yes, it was. As I said, when you and I have the time, I will explain. Lena is an old friend. We’ve been in business off and on together over the years. She lives in Montana. I live in Ashland. Even though we were both in Chicago, I’d avoided seeing her, but as I said earlier, meeting with her couldn’t be completely avoided.”
“And you were with her for over three hours.” I didn’t care if I sounded jealous. I was distracted by the new cracks forming in our snow globe.
The shirt was nearly unbuttoned as Van stepped closer. “No. We met for lunch at Joe’s Seafood. After lunch, she went her way, and I went mine. There was an unfinished matter. Since I was out, I thought I’d tend to it myself.”
“What?”
“You know that I love you,” he said.