Her Red-Carpet Romance (9 page)

* * *

A quick but intense review of the contents of her closet that night only told Yohanna what she already knew—she did
not
own a single suitable dress she could wear to a premiere, certainly not something that wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb when she crossed the red carpet beside Lukkas.

She shook her head as she closed her closet. This all still felt so surreal to her. Her, at a premiere. With one of Hollywood's most eligible bachelors. Who would've thunk it?

Whenever she found herself in unfamiliar waters and treading madly, her natural inclination had always been to seek help. But in this case, the only one she could actually turn to would be her mother.

However, she knew if she did, while she would be playing into her mother's fantasy, she would also be opening up such a huge can of worms, she wouldn't have a prayer in hell of ever being able to close it again.

Besides, her mother had already called her several times since she'd started working for Lukkas. The calls all revolved around the same issue. Her mother wanted progress reports and, more specifically, her mother wanted to know exactly how far she had progressed in her relationship with Lukkas.

That there
was
no relationship in progress other than their professional one was not something she seemed to be able to get across to her mother.

It was clear that the woman was absolutely
starving
for romance. Romance in
her
life, not actually in her own, Yohanna thought ruefully. Her mother was one of those women who lived vicariously through their offspring.

Not for the first time, Yohanna wished that she had a sister, or at the very least a cousin she could hide behind or possibly divert her mother's attention to.

But, knowing her mother, she supposed that would blow up in her face, as well.

She could just hear her mother saying, “Why can't you get married and have a husband and kids like your cousin Rachel?”

No, she was better off this way, with no one to be compared to, Yohanna decided.

But she still needed help.

Mentally, she reviewed the women she could call for some sort of advice in a situation like this. And then she realized that there was only one logical candidate.

She fervently hoped that she wouldn't be disturbing the woman, but really, if it hadn't been for her, most likely she would still be sitting in her condo—a condo that would look far less tidy than it did now—out of work and out of hope.

Her present dilemma was both Cecilia's fault and her gift to her, Yohanna thought. In any case, she felt she could attain a sympathetic ear from the woman—as well as a minimum of questions. Cecilia was obviously the kind of lady who cared, but by the same token, she wasn't the kind to pry or to insert herself into someone's life—possibly not even when invited to do so.

Making up her mind, Yohanna picked up the phone and called Cecilia.

 

Chapter Nine

“N
ot that I'm not honored as well as touched that you called me to help you pick out something special to wear to the premiere of Mr. Spader's new movie, but why isn't your mother here instead of me, dear?”

After attempting to repress the question during the drive to Rodeo Drive and an exclusive boutique she was familiar with, Cecilia's curiosity had gotten the better of her. She knew that if she found out her daughter had gone to another older woman for advice rather than come to her, she would have been heartbroken.

Cecilia had tried to sound as casual as she could, broaching the question as they walked into the boutique.

Yohanna loved her mother dearly but, in her estimation, that didn't mean she had to put up with her mother's theatrics, and there
would be
theatrics if the woman found out about this.

“Because,” Yohanna patiently explained, “if my mother finds out that I'm going to be attending something with my boss that involves walking across a red carpet, I guarantee that five minutes later, she's going to be hiring someone to write the words
Mr. Spader, please marry my daughter, Yohanna
across the sky.”

Two sleek, tastefully made up saleswomen started walking in their direction. Cecilia waved them back. To Yohanna's astonishment, the women retreated.

Cecilia obviously had clout here.

“Now, dear,” Cecilia was saying, commenting on the scenario Yohanna had just painted for her. “You're exaggerating—”

Yohanna laughed drily as she went to the first display of evening gowns. “No, I'm not. You obviously haven't met my mother.”

“No, I have not,” Cecilia admitted. “But even if I haven't—”

Yohanna proceeded as if Cecilia hadn't attempted to continue. “She's the one who told me that a real woman cleans her own house and said I was throwing money away on a cleaning service.”

Cecilia winced just a tiny bit. “Ah, an old-fashioned woman.”

“If the fashions are from the 1900s, then, yes, she is an old-fashioned woman. She is also a very determined woman. Right now, what she's determined about is to marry me off to someone. Anyone short of Attila the Hun is a viable possible candidate. In my mother's eyes I'm in a very precarious place, teetering on the edge of a downhill slope that'll send me sliding right into becoming an old maid.”

Cecilia smiled indulgently at her. “Nobody really uses that term anymore, dear.”

But Yohanna could only smile, as if her point had been made. “Like I said, you haven't met my mother. What do you think of this one?” she asked, holding one of the gowns up against herself.

“It's not your color,” Cecilia pronounced, dismissing the gown with a wave of her hand. Yohanna returned it to its original space as Cecilia began to look through the various gowns. “Have you stopped to think that this event might be covered by one of those cable channels and the camera might pick up your presence there? Since you're attending the premiere with the movie's producer, I can guarantee that cameras will be trained on you.

“This does assume, of course, that your mother watches these kinds of programs. If she doesn't, then you're home free.” Cecilia looked at her face and drew her own conclusion. “She watches these shows, doesn't she?”

Yohanna could only nod, feeling a definite pressure from the weight accumulating on her chest. “But every now and then, she does miss one occasionally.” There was a breathless, hopeful note in her voice as she mentally crossed her fingers.

“Then, for your sake, I hope she's busy watching something else,” Cecilia replied. She debated over a gown, then shrugged and moved it aside. “It's Saturday night. Does she go out with your father, or perhaps some friends?” Cecilia asked hopefully as she went on looking and rejecting gowns one after the other.

Yohanna could only look on, leaving the selection entirely in the older woman's hands because she felt she needed someone steadier than she was to make the final decision.

“My dad died years ago,” she said, replying to Cecilia's question. “But Mom does go out with a couple of her girlfriends sometimes. I don't know if it's on Saturday nights or not.”

“All you can do is play the odds, dear— That one,” Cecilia suddenly exclaimed, gravitating toward a long, light blue gown covered with sequins of a single silver color. The sequins winked and blinked, casting their own beams of light.

Removing it from its hanger, Cecilia offered the gown to Yohanna. “This is perfect for you,” she pronounced without any fanfare, cocking her head as if she was studying Yohanna for the first time. “The blue brings out your eyes and it makes you come alive—I mean, more than you already are,” Cecilia amended tactfully.

“Understood,” Yohanna replied, not wanting the woman to worry about hurting her feelings.

Her mother certainly never had such concerns. There were times that she was convinced her mother went directly for the jugular just to keep her in line.

Too bad it hadn't worked. She was still her own person. She hadn't been brainwashed into believing her mother's ancient mantra. That a woman wasn't complete until she was married.

She was complete, Yohanna thought fiercely. Moreover, she was doing just fine without a male in her life.

And maybe just a little more fine than that, she silently insisted.

“Try it on, dear,” Cecilia coaxed, still holding out the gown to her.

Beaming, Yohanna took the gown from Cecilia and headed to the first changing room.

It took her all of three minutes to get out of her own clothes and into the gown Cecilia seemed to have inadvertently stumbled across.

And then it took her an extra two minutes to tear herself away from the reflection in the mirror that she found awe-inspiring and overwhelming.

“Are you all right in there, dear?” Cecilia inquired, raising her voice. Yohanna was taking a long time inside the changing room.

“Just fine,” Yohanna called back.

She was still mesmerized by what she saw—a reflection that just couldn't have possibly been her. Instead, the reflection was of a startlingly sexy woman who just happened to be looking back at her.

Yohanna could hardly tear her eyes away, afraid if she did, when she looked back, the reflection would be gone and she'd be left in its stead.

Plain, reliable Yohanna.

She turned slowly to the side, exposing the floor-to-upper-thigh slit in the gown. She absolutely
loved
this gown.

Holding her breath, she ventured out of the change room to present herself to the woman who had brought her here in the first place. She wanted to hear Cecilia's opinion even as she crossed her fingers, hoping that Cecilia would give her stamp of approval on this one. Granted, she could buy it if she had no choice, but in this virgin effort to get just the right gown, she knew she needed backup.

Someone to tell her she was right.

Besides, it would be rather rude not to ask Cecilia what she thought of the gown. After all, she had been the one who had found the gown.

As for herself, she was half in love with the gown and on her way to proposing to it.

“So?” Yohanna asked hopefully as she very slowly turned in a full circle for the woman's benefit. “What do you think?”

Cecilia's pleased smile said it all. “I think Mr. Spader is going to need a cold shower
before
and
after
the premiere. Also after the party that'll follow.”

She'd almost forgotten about that. Maybe Lukkas wouldn't want to attend. “Are you sure there's a party after the premiere?” she asked Cecilia.

“Honey, there is
always
an after-party,” Cecilia answered knowingly. “A party before. A party after. The people in the film industry work hard at what they do, so when it's all said and done, they like to party hard, too, sort of to balance everything out,” Cecilia explained. “And also because there's always that chance that after the party's over, nothing further comes their way. This is a very, very hard business people have consigned themselves to.”

Cecilia paused to take a breath and then smiled warmly again, her eyes crinkling. “I think I forgot to mention the most important part—you look perfect.”

Yohanna could feel her cheeks growing warmer. Compliments always embarrassed her. “Thank you—even though that's not possible.”

“Why not?” Bemused, Cecilia challenged her opinion, but amicably so.

She'd felt like an ugly duckling most of her life. Her mother had branded her as such, lamenting that it would be difficult to find her a husband because of that. To have Cecilia compliment her this way was flattering—but it almost didn't feel real.

“Because nothing human is perfect, no matter how hard we might try.”

“All right, I'll amend my statement,” Cecilia said indulgently. “You're as close to perfect as possible.” Cocking her head just a shade, the woman looked at her. “Happy?”

Maybe that reflection in the mirror really
was
her.

“Deliriously,” Yohanna responded.

“Wear that,” Cecilia instructed, indicating the gown. “And you'll knock 'em all dead,” she promised.

Happy that she'd found something and relieved that she didn't have to go on searching for the “right” thing to wear for the better part of the day, Yohanna started to go back to the change room. As she walked, she glanced at the price tag attached to the garment and stopped dead in her tracks.

Surprised, Cecilia came closer to her. “Is something wrong?”

She was still staring at the price tag, all but shell-shocked. “This dress costs around the same amount of money it would take to feed a third world nation for a week.”

There was an extremely practical side to Cecilia. “You're not paying for it, are you?” she asked, softness creeping into her voice despite the harsh nature of the question she'd just asked.

“Mr. Spader gave me his credit card,” Yohanna confessed.

“Then, charge away,” Cecilia urged with a laugh as she nudged her into the change room. “In your producer's pretty green eyes, the money is being put to good use.”

As she changed, Yohanna still thought it incredibly wasteful to be using that much money to purchase a simple gown.

“But this money could feed so many kids,” she protested, exiting the change area.

“And it will, eventually,” Cecilia assured her. “Spader is a very compassionate man. If someone calls him with a hard-luck story, Lukkas Spader is on the phone, calling one or more of his security team to find the caller, and then he delivers the money to them in person.”

Cecilia was only repeating what Theresa had already told her about the man. Her friend had been impressed with the size of the producer's heart in an industry that notoriously had no heart.

“Now buy that gown and give that man something beautiful to look at,” Cecilia instructed.

Yohanna smiled as she went up to the register.

* * *

Directed by Cecilia's keen instincts, Yohanna found herself going to several other stores, notably Neiman Marcus, to buy accessories that she hadn't realized she needed for the night ahead. New shoes. A tiny purse hardly big enough to house a lipstick and a house key. A wrap to throw on her shoulders in case the evening grew chilly. All these things, Cecilia had maintained, were necessary to complete the portrait of a woman who could easily fit into Lukkas's world.

After a while Yohanna had the feeling she was on an endless treadmill and that the shopping would never end.

And then finally, finally—after nearly giving up hope—she was home.

Home with only a few hours to get ready. Her nerves all but went into overdrive. Already worried that she'd somehow wind up putting her worst foot forward, Yohanna tried not to dwell on anything negative.

The butterflies in her stomach were already threatening to hollow out her insides with their ever-increasing wingspan as they perpetually took off and landed.

Being Yohanna, she was ready long before she needed to be. That left her time to pace and to anticipate the worst. The more she did either, the more nervous she became even though she really hadn't thought that was actually possible.

Willing Lukkas to come early, she kept looking at her watch to see how much time had passed.

The hands on her watch were moving so slowly, she felt certain that the minute hand had been dipped in honey.

The inside of her mouth was dry again—something that had been going on all day—actually, ever since he'd asked her to accompany him.

The moment she turned away from the window and began to head to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. She nearly jumped out of her skin, grateful that no one had been there to take in the sight.

Taking a breath, she went to answer the door.

Fully prepared to see Lukkas when she opened the door, she offered him a cheerful “Hi.”

“Wow,” he heard himself say in response. When the door had opened to admit him, he'd fully expected to see the young woman he'd hired three weeks ago, and instead he was all but bowled over by the absolutely gorgeous woman standing in the doorway.

“Hanna?” Lukkas asked hesitantly.

He couldn't be certain it was her.

The woman standing right in front of him looked like Hanna and yet didn't.

“It's me,” she assured him, opening the door wider for him to enter.

Pleasure spiraled through her as she noted the way Lukkas was looking at her.

“I take it by your initial comment that you like the gown.”

“Like it?” he echoed. “I think I'm in love with it. You look nothing short of fantastic,” he told her with genuine feeling in his voice.

She decided she might as well tell him now rather than later. After all, he was the one putting up money to fund the next project. She couldn't just take more from him because she thought the gown was gorgeous.