READY FOR MY DATE with Mick is an exercise in anxiety management. I take deep, meditative breaths and avoid the kitchen, even though it’s intentionally bare of anything bingeworthy.
After Mick asked me this morning what I was wearing under my clothes, it occurred to me that I was completely unprepared to embark on a sexual relationship with him. So I called up Lexie and Jord for lunch and a trip to Lush Lingerie. It stood to reason that if I wore something sexy underneath it all, then I might feel sexy.
My friends, whom I told over sushi about my renewed relationship with Mick, were thrilled for me and only too willing to oblige. Lush Lingerie was a feast for the senses. I found racy sets of lace, satin, and silk in my size that put my functional cotton and spandex to shame. With Lexie and Jordyn leading the charge, I left there with the kind of undergarments that twenty-four hours earlier, I wouldn’t have considered. Underwear that required more than just tidying up my bikini line.
But now, standing in front of the closet, having traded in my long white terrycloth robe for a short white silk one, I have a bad case of butterflies. I try on the black dress with the bolero jacket. Concealing andconservative. It screamsboring.
Next, I slip on the ruby-red halter dress. Revealing and risqué. It shoutsfearless. That’s the woman I long to be—confident and sure in my less-than-perfect skin. The woman who will let Mick take my body carte blanche tonight, without any hesitation, qualms, or insecurities, and take what I want in return.
Deciding that the red stays, I follow Lexie’s makeup advice and outline my lids with black liquid liner to create elongated cat eyes. Then I add a neutral shadow with a little shimmer, lightly dust my face with bronzer, and color my lips with a sheer peachy gloss.
For my hair, I gather the curls and twist them into a low, loose side bun. I decide to forgo jewelry when the chandelier earrings prove to be too much, as does the rhinestone choker.
At precisely 7:30 p.m., the doorbell rings. I have second thoughts and think to change back into the black dress. But that would take too long. Worse, it would make me a coward.Okay.Deep breaths.
With trembling fingers, I buckle up my nude-colored sandals and brave a quick look in the mirror. I stare at the woman I see there. I hardly recognize her, with her made-up eyes and her flesh on display. I roll my bottom lip, hoping like hell I can pull this off.
The clicks of my pencil-thin heels are tentative, but they get me to the foyer.Whew.I blow out a shaky breath and twist my damp palms before opening the door.
Mick’s intense eyes chart a slow path down the red dress to my strappy shoes. His gaze returns to my face. “You’re stunning.”
“You look pretty stunning, yourself,” I say. And he does. This is the first time I’ve seen Mick in anything other than jeans. His suit is slate gray, and he’s paired it with a crisp white shirt, silver tie, and white pocket square. His waves are arranged back from his forehead, and his jaw is freshly shaven, making my fingers itch with the urge to stroke his smooth skin.
He looks every bit the rich, powerful celebrity who’s graced the covers ofGQandPeople. His celebrity status should be intimidating. And yet it isn’t, because I know the real man wrapped inside the exquisite package.
He drops an overnight bag on the floor. Our eyes lock, anticipation swells between us.
“I have something for you,” Mick says, several beats later. From the bag, he pulls out a small parcel covered with matte gold wrapping paper and tied with an ivory ribbon.
“What is it?”
“Open it up and find out.”
The excitement in his tone is contagious.
I set the parcel on the hallway table beside my wrap and beaded purse. With Mick watching my every move, I slowly remove the ribbon and paper. Underneath is a square black box. I lift the hinged lid and my jaw drops.
It’s simple, beautiful, and expensive. The Piaget name alone tells me that. I take in the necklace. A single diamond stud sits in the center of a white gold chain. Suspended from the chain are two intertwined rings that fall in a cascade. The larger one on the bottom is encrusted with diamonds. The smaller one above is engraved. I run my fingers over the wordPossession.
“See how the two circles are linked but are also suspended from the chain?”
I nod.
“It’s to give the illusion that they’re breaking free from each other, only to reunite and create a new and stronger bond. A bond of possession. Of eternal love. Do you like it?”
I gaze up at him with my heart wide open.
“I love it.”
“May I?”
“Please.” I turn to give him my back.
He draws the necklace around me. The linked chain and pendant feel cool against my skin in contrast with the sublime warmth of Mick’s hands brushing my collarbone and settling at my nape.
After he fastens the clasp, he eases me around and our gazes fall to where the intertwined circles sit in the center of my cleavage. “Diamonds have never had a more perfect frame.”
I bloom under his praise. “Thank you.”
