“Offhand, I can’t think of any famous chefs who drive old pickups and wear cowboy boots.”
“So, I’ll be the first.” He looked at a variegated blue dolman top in the window. “You could wear that.”
“No, it’s smocked.”
“But the fabric’s light. And the color will bring out your eyes.”
That made her smile. “I’ll bet you don’t even know the color of my eyes, Jay Rossi.”
Her sunglasses were no protection from the intensity of his look. “I know more than you think.”
“Like what?”
“Like that it’s a shamrock tattooed to your ankle, not a clover like the tabloids say.”
That was a surprise. “I’m Irish,” she said.
“I know that, too.”
She caught a sweet, hot whiff of cotton candy. She had to have some, to feel the way it melted the moment it touched her tongue. That’s what she ought to be doing, eating cotton candy, not flirting with her mother’s lackey.
“A very thorough bodyguard,” she said. “Virginia will be pleased.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “This isn’t about Virginia.”
“She’s paying the tab.”
He started to say something else, then shook his head in apparent disgust.
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm. “Let’s go check out that top.”
Before she knew it, there she was, a makeup mask pulled over her face, the dolman sleeves at her side. She looked like Bat Woman From Hell.
She kept the makeup mask on. It made her look even more ridiculous—Bat Woman From Hell wearing a blue old-lady shower cap over her face, short little clumps of hair sticking out at all angles.
The designer, a Japanese woman wearing a plum version of the same top, frowned. “I can lengthen it for you.”
For a moment, Tania Marie was afraid she might have recognized her through the mask. Then she realized the designer was thinking of ways to minimize the maximum. “It looks better on you, that’s for sure,” she said.
“It’s lovely on you,” the woman said. “Perhaps we should lengthen the sleeves.”
Tania Marie felt ready to pass out with only the designer, the close quarters and her reflection in the mirror.
“Why the hell not?”
Gabriella
She sat in the back seat as Christopher drove the town car north on the I-5. The rearview mirror indicated NW in turquoise digits. Northwest. Such a comfort to know where one was going. Although the weather outside had been a little on the warm side,within the car it was colder than she preferred. Christopher kept it that way because he always wore a jacket, today one matching the gray leather seats and upholstery. At least the car was paid for. She couldn’t bear to give it up, although heaven knows, she’d given up a great deal more.
“Do you think this is a good idea, meeting with Tania Marie again?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I couldn’t turn her down.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, either. “I don’t think she’s a bad person,” she said.
“But it can’t help you to join forces with her.” He was always gentle in his suggestions; maybe that was part of the reason she always listened to him.
“I don’t plan to join forces, only to hear what she has to say. And what Rochelle has to say, too, for that matter.”
“You think she’ll even show up?” Christopher asked as they passed the first of the San Clemente exits.
