Fast Track (11 page)

Miss Marie, an older woman with a no-nonsense attitude, met her at the door and introduced herself. She took Cordie by the arm and led her into the back of the shop, where a seamstress waited along with two salesladies eager to assist. The room Cordie was ushered into didn’t have any windows, but the white walls and white carpet made it seem quite large. There were three wingback chairs in a semicircle, and directly ahead was a carpet-covered circular platform that faced three huge mirrors guaranteed to show every flaw.

Miss Marie was thrilled with Cordie’s figure. “It’s about time I dressed someone who isn’t built like a stick. And those eyes. Your fabulous eyes. You must wear a sapphire-blue gown. I insist. You really are stunning, you know.”

No, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure how to respond to the exaggerated compliments. Stunning? Miss Marie was obviously nearsighted.

“We’ll take care of everything,” she continued. “Your undergarments, makeup, gowns, and dresses, and of course wraps. Shall we get started?”

“I just need one ball gown,” Cordie explained.

“Those weren’t my instructions from Mr. Madison,” she replied.

Cordie tried to argue, but Miss Marie wasn’t paying her any attention. For the next three and a half hours Cordie tried on beautiful gowns and dresses and skirts and wonderful silk blouses. Miss Marie and her staff treated her like a mannequin, tugging and pulling and pretty much ignoring any of her opinions, but once Miss Marie was finished, Cordie had a new name for her . . . Miracle Worker.

Cavanaugh was waiting for her when she walked out of the shop. He drove her back to the hotel by way of a scenic route. She had wanted to experience some of the city, but jet lag wasn’t through with her. All she wanted now was a hot bath and a bed.

She didn’t see Aiden that night or the next morning. He had already left for yet another round of meetings by the time she awoke, so she called down to Cavanaugh, who took her on a sightseeing tour. They rode the ferry around the harbor. It was drizzling, but Cordie didn’t mind. In her estimation the afternoon was perfect. Seeing the spectacular city from this vantage point only made her want to see more.

Miss Marie and two assistants arrived at the penthouse at promptly six o’clock. They came in with a rack filled with clothes hidden by garment bags. Cordie was rendered speechless when she was told all of the clothes were for her. Since most of the items had been altered, she couldn’t send them back.

Once again she was treated like a mannequin. They tugged and pulled, spackled, sprayed, and curled, and by seven thirty the transformation was complete. Her hair was brushed back and fashioned into curls with loose tendrils floating down to the base of her neck. In the past, Cordie had always applied makeup sparingly. She never used eyeliner or shadow. Occasionally she would brush on a little mascara, but that was rare. Miss Marie, however, had her own ideas and went to town with her makeup kit, all the while chastising Cordie for ignoring her incredible features. Never in her career, she said, had she seen such a flawless complexion, such beautiful eyes, such full lips. When she finally let Cordie look in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her eyes, her face, her body, had been transformed. Miss Marie really was a miracle worker.

The gown, in a color that matched her eyes exactly, was exquisite. It had a plunging scoop neckline, and the bodice fit so perfectly it looked as though it was molded to her body. The floor-length skirt was straight with a slit that reached the top of her knee. Cordie had never worn anything so magnificent and didn’t think it could possibly be improved on, and then Miss Marie handed her a hooded cape. It was black velvet with a lining the same sapphire blue as the dress. Miss Marie even provided a small beaded clutch. Cordie couldn’t believe the vision that stared back at her in the mirror and decided she didn’t want to know how much it was all going to cost her. One huge splurge in her life was all right. Besides, she was going to a ball with Aiden.

She felt like a princess in a fairy tale. Too bad Aiden wasn’t acting like Prince Charming. He had knocked on her door several times and reminded her they were going to be late if she didn’t hurry up. From the frown he gave her when she finally joined him in the living room, she concluded he was more of an ogre than a prince. He obviously was irritated at her for making him wait, and his only comment when he saw her was negative.

“That top doesn’t cover much.”

“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “You look nice, too.” She smiled as she gave the jab.

It was an understatement. Aiden in a tuxedo was perfection . . . even with a frown on his face.

“You’re beautiful, Cordelia. That color suits you,” he said, seeming a bit contrite.

“I
should
look beautiful. It took a team of women to make this,” she said, putting her arms out as she did a slow turn.

“A team, huh?”

“I’m serious.”

He laughed. “I know. Are you ready?”

As he was helping her with her cape, he bent down close to her ear and whispered, “I like your perfume.”

His warm breath on her neck made her shiver. She wanted to lean into him but took a step forward instead. “Shall we go?” she asked.

He pushed the elevator button. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“Yes. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I still don’t want to talk to her, but I have a letter for her. I’ll ask a waiter to give it to her.”

“You wrote a letter?” He waited for her to answer. She was biting her lip and staring down at the bag clutched in her hands as though still weighing her decision. She didn’t answer his question.

“I want to see the look in her eyes when I give her the shock of her life. If that makes me petty, so be it.”

Cavanaugh was waiting for them. He did a double take when he saw Cordie, but Aiden’s frown stopped him from making a comment.

The Gallery Ball was being held at the Hoffman-Sitz Center, which was located just a few miles south of the hotel. Town cars and limos lined the drive to the front doors in a slow procession. Cordie’s stomach was in knots. She was too nervous to talk, and Aiden must have noticed her unease, because he took hold of her hand.

“I can feel you trembling.”

“I’m a bit anxious,” she admitted. “I’m afraid I might do something to humiliate you.”

He was astounded by her worry. He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Nothing you could do would ever humiliate me.”

Wanna bet? she thought. It was a terribly kind thing for him to say to her, but also totally untrue. “So if I lose it completely and go for Simone’s throat, you won’t be bothered?”

“Not at all,” he said with a straight face. “Do you plan to go for her throat?”

The laughter in his voice made her smile. “I might.”

They came to a stop in front of the steps leading up to the doors. A valet came forward, an open umbrella at the ready.

“I’ll be around the corner waiting for your call to collect you,” Cavanaugh said.

It was beginning to drizzle, so Cordie pulled the hood of the cape over her head. She took Aiden’s arm and went up the steps, lifting the hem of her gown as she moved along.

Aiden wanted to find a spot where Cordelia could watch the crowd. He suspected every eye would be on her as soon as she removed her cape, and he was right. He even heard several gasps. In case they needed to make a hasty exit, he didn’t check her cape. He draped it over his arm, took hold of her hand, and led her into the gathering.

The main ballroom was like a huge and beautiful inverted fishbowl, circular with a leaded-glass dome overhead. Guests entered on the first level, which wrapped around the room, and a ring of steps led down to a round dance floor. Huge pillars soared to the ceiling, and between these were small round tables that sat no more than four people, perfect spots for the guests to observe the orchestra stage at the far end of the room and the dancers below. The colors were muted, which made the colorful gowns the women wore all the more vibrant.

They had walked halfway around the circle before Aiden stopped. From where they stood, they could easily see the entrance and all of the dance floor. He draped her cape over one of the chairs and turned to the entrance, satisfied that the pillar next to them would conceal Cordelia from the crowd but still allow a wide view.

“It’s chilly in here,” she remarked.

It wasn’t, but he decided to agree. He put his arm around her and drew her closer. “Better?”

“Yes,” she answered, grateful for his warmth and his reassuring hug.

Aiden knew quite a few of the guests, and as the ballroom began to fill, several couples stopped to say hello. While Aiden was politely shaking hands, Cordie noticed a very good-looking man making his way toward them. He was in his thirties, with brown hair streaked blond by the sun and a smile that would make most women weak in the knees. His hair covered his collar, longer than what was considered fashionable, and she made the deduction that he was a nonconformist. She couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked almost as good as Aiden in his tuxedo. He was every bit as tall, though not as lean. His clear green eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief.

Aiden had been talking to a young man who was trying very hard to sell his company’s services to the Hamilton Hotels, but out of the corner of his eye Aiden was watching the approaching man. He knew who he was. He dismissed the enthusiastic young man by saying, “I’m not in the habit of discussing business at these affairs. If you’ll call my office and make an appointment, we’ll talk.” He didn’t take his eyes off the man coming their way.

The man stopped just a foot away from Cordie, and his smile widened. She couldn’t help but notice the adorable dimple in his cheek.

“Cordie.”

“Yes?”

“I’m Liam Scott.”

He took her hand, pulling her to him. Aiden still had his arm around her shoulders and wasn’t letting go. A tug-of-war ensued until Cordie stopped it by extracting her hand from Liam’s and shrugging Aiden’s arm away. Liam’s greeting was not over. He bent down and kissed her on both cheeks. He finally turned to Aiden and shook his hand.

“Aiden,” he said briskly.

“Liam,” Aiden responded curtly.

Aiden didn’t have to be reminded of Alec’s warning that Liam was a womanizer. The way the man was looking at Cordelia was all the evidence he needed, and Aiden didn’t like it one bit. He was downright rude when he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, keeping his gaze locked on Cordelia. “I’m a patron of the arts.”

Cordie didn’t know what Aiden’s problem was. There was absolutely no reason to be so antagonistic. “Then you attend these Gallery Balls each year?” she asked.

“No, this is my first.” He added as he tugged on his collar, “And hopefully my last.”

Aiden wasn’t amused. “Again, why are you here?” he asked, and before Liam could answer, Aiden guessed, “Alec sent you, didn’t he?”

Liam nodded. “He wanted me to meet Cordie.”

“And you chose the Gallery Ball to introduce yourself?”

Liam shrugged. “From what Alec told me about Cordie, I was curious to meet her as soon as I could.”

“What did he tell you about her?” Aiden folded his arms across his chest so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to shove Liam down the steps. He had taken an instant dislike to him and wasn’t in the mood to play games.

“He said she was drop-dead gorgeous.” Turning to Cordie, he said, “He was right.”

She could feel herself blushing and wanted to turn the discussion away from herself. “Alec mentioned you used to work for Interpol?”

Liam gave her a quizzical look and then began to laugh. “He said that, did he?”

“You didn’t work for Interpol?” she asked, confused.

Evidently he thought her question hilarious, because his laughter grew louder until she could almost see tears in his eyes. “Alec does have a sense of humor. I didn’t work for them. I was wanted by Interpol. It was all a misunderstanding,” he said offhandedly. “A painting was there, and then it wasn’t, but then it was again. See? Just a misunderstanding.”

Cordie couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but she wasn’t given the chance to pursue the subject because Liam grew serious when he turned the conversation to another matter.

“Now it’s my turn to ask questions,” he said. “What are you going to do when Simone and Craig Rayburn arrive? I’ve already checked. You don’t have a gun, so I know you aren’t going to shoot them. What’s the plan?”

Aiden answered for her. “Cordelia wants to give Simone the shock of her life, but she doesn’t want to talk to her.”

“Then how is she going to shock her?” He turned to Cordie. “Did you bring a Taser? That would shock the hell out of her.”

“No, I—” Cordie began.

“Because if you didn’t,” he continued, “I’ve got one in the car you can borrow.” He looked around at the gathering crowd. “Are you hiding behind this pillar?”

“No, of course not,” she said, knowing full well it was a lie. “I’m waiting for the Rayburns to arrive.”

He grinned. “So you can shock them.”

Liam was having a bit too much fun for her liking. Before she could tell him so, he changed the subject again by asking her how she liked Sydney and then launching into a litany of the attractions she should see. As he spoke, he took her hand and pulled out a chair at the table for her. He sat down next to her and leaned in, focusing on her as though she were the only person in the room. She could tell that Aiden was trying his best to remain composed and polite, but he was not happy about Liam’s intrusion. He looked as though he was about to say something when a man came up and greeted him. From that point on he was distracted by a steady stream of men and women who recognized him. Each man wanted to talk about various projects he just knew Aiden would want to invest in, and each woman simply wanted Aiden. Cordie couldn’t blame the women. Aiden was what she’d heard one of them call a real catch, and from the way they were eyeing Liam, he was just as attractive to females on the prowl. Cordie wasn’t immune to Liam’s good looks and charm, but in her estimation he paled in comparison to Aiden. She thought that was a pity. She desperately wanted to be attracted to another man.