My eyes turn to Michael, that serious gaze capturing me the second I lock with it, the background blurring, and all I can see are those bright brown eyes.
“You belong in there, with me, do you understand?” I nod. “Good.” He offers his arm, and when I take it, he starts leading us through the vast courtyard toward the fifty-five-room, Tudor-style former residence faced with Indiana limestone. “Every time you start doubting it, just look at me, and I promise everything will all be okay.”
“Okay.” I snuggle closer to him, taking in a lungful of that minty fresh scent that blends so well with his natural, earthy warmth, more than willing to take any form of reassurance he’s offering as we head through the main entrance and into the mansion itself.
“You know, it cost over three million dollars to build this place,” Michael starts as he guides us to our destination with the same reassured confidence that annoyed me when I first met him but that I’ve come to rely on as a source of comfort. “That’s over forty-million today. It was the most expensive home built in California back then.”
“That’s insane.” I play along with his attempt to distract me, looking around at the hand railings and arch-framed stairway, the opulence and craftsmanship that seem to flow through the mansion breathtaking in their uniqueness.
“All of the oak banisters, balustrades, and rafters were hand-carved,” Michael continues with his impromptu tour.
“And the landscape architect, Paul G. Thiene, used a potpourri of Gothic and neoclassic architectural styles,” I quote, flashing Michael a grin when he raises an eyebrow. “I may have been browsing the Beverly Hills website and looking up the Mansion all night because I was too nervous to sleep.”
“Ah, but everything I know is from taking tours through the estate.” Michael twirls me to him and dances me over the black and white inlaid marble floors of the grand hall to the increasing volume of music and chatter. “I bet you’ve read about the view from the terrace.”
“I have.”
“But you’ve never seen anything like it, Lore.” Then he spins me to face forward and pulls my back against his chest, and my breath catches. I was so immersed in the feeling of his body moving against mine, I hadn’t noticed that he’d swayed us out to the terrace, and I find myself overlooking the city, with views stretching from downtown Los Angeles to the Pacific Ocean.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper in reverent awe, and Michael’s arm tightens around my middle.
“Not as beautiful as you.” My head turns to him, and the way he’s looking at me steals whatever air was left in my lungs.
“The way you look at me sometimes, Michael.”
“What about it?” He dares me to answer with his taunting gaze. His fingers start a slow rub over my waist, and my entire body sparks to life.
“Mr. Edwards.” A soft female voice penetrates our perfect Hollywood moment. We turn to find a young girl, maybe nineteen, wearing a server uniform standing behind us, looking nervous, fidgeting with her tray. “Miss Jubilee would like you and your—” she takes a deep breath and shakes her head, grumbling something incoherent before continuing, “—companion to join her for a drink.”
“Did she use the phrase current flavor?” Michael grimaces even as the words leave his mouth, and the server’s face contorts in disgust, making me wonder if Miss Jubilee may have chosen a stronger depicter for me.
“I’m sorry I interrupted.” She casts her gaze down. “You seemed to be enjoying the view, but…” She trails off, tightening her hold on the tray.
Michael takes a step forward and waits for the girl to lift her eyes to him. “I’ve known Sandra Jubilee for a very long time, Miss…?”
“Porter, Annie Porter.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Annie,” Michael reassures her with a soft smile, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark gray slacks.
It’s the first time tonight I’ve been calm enough to really look at him, so devastatingly handsome in those custom slacks paired with a custom vest to match. His tailormade lilac button-up is rolled to his elbows, showing the bottom half of the sleeve-tattoo, the two top buttons left open giving him a rebellious attitude, especially with his ginger hair arranged on the top of his head in a carefully calculated mess. But those eyes… That tawny stare full of kindness and warmth that has poor little Annie blushing furiously and my heart thumping that much louder in my chest, that’s what really sets him apart.
“Thank you,” Annie whispers. “You two make a beautiful couple. I can tell how much you care for each other.”
“Thank you, Annie,” I reply when I realize Michael is a bit stuck on words. “You’re very kind and observant. Isn’t she, Cupcake?”
Michael breaks into a rueful smile, and he turns to look at me, stretching out his hand for me to take. “That she is, honey.” He pulls me under his arm and smiles at Annie. “Thank you, Annie. Miss Banks and I will be sure to put in a good word with your employer.”
“Thank you.” She’s so visibly relieved my heart goes out to her. “And your dress, it’s stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Probably because I made it,” I reply with a broad smile, and her face lights up.
“That’s amazing!” She sighs, and I get the distinct feeling she’s about to tell me how she’s always dreamt of becoming a fashion designer, but instead, little Annie just shrugs and straightens her tray. “Can I bring you anything from the bar to Miss Jubilee’s table?”
“Something light on the alcohol that comes in a martini glass,” Michael requests. “It goes with the look,” he explains at my raised eyebrow, and I can’t help but roll my eyes before turning back to Annie.
“Am I going to need something strong?” They both nod with a grave expression. “Dear God. Okay, uh, a gin and tonic?”
“I’ll bring it right over, Mr. Edwards, Miss Banks.” She gives us a curt nod and a grateful smile before heading to the bar.