She reaches across the table, catching my hand. She looks me in the eye. “Yes. I am.”
I pull a face. “Do you want to walk with me back to that dress shop? I need something to wear tonight.”
She grins. “I can’t think of anything that would make me happier. We need to put you in something that is so hot, it’ll melt Stellan’s tie right off his body.”
Giggling at Pippa’s description, I down the rest of my latte and then head to do some shopping.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Stellan
Ipull at my tie, wishing like anything that I could loosen it. But this little gallery opening is as fancy as they come. My black suit and tie just make me one of the crowd.
I take a sip of the old fashioned I ordered at the bar earlier, scanning the gallery for the hundredth time. Margot is running late.
If she’s coming at all, that is.
And I’m standing here, uncomfortable in my suit jacket, fending off the general public. I sigh aloud and make myself focus on a large framed photo photograph that’s displayed on the wall.
Somehow she sneaks up to stand beside me. When I notice her standing there, looking thoughtfully at the art, I take a step back.
“Jesus christ,” I mumble. “You look…”
I trail off. She’s wearing a short-sleeved, floor-length dress that is just a shade or two darker than her neon pink hair. Although the dress doesn’t show any cleavage or legs,it’s so tight that it looks like she was sewn into the damn dress.
She runs a hand through her hair, giving me an uncertain smile. “I hope that sentence ends well.”
I nod slowly, trying to unglue my eyes from her tits and ass. “Uh huh.”
She cocks her head. “I’m guessing you’re not secretly mad at me, then?”
“What?” I glance up and meet her deep blue eyes, puzzled. “Why would I be?”
She shrugs one shoulder, coming close to me. One corner of her mouth turns up. “I didn’t know what to think when you didn’t show up today.”
Casting my gaze out over the gallery, I squint. “Ja. My grandmother changed my itinerary unexpectedly. Apparently, no one thought to inform the press office.”
“Ah. Is everything okay?”
Her eyes are on me. Probing me. I glance down.
“Ja. My grandmother is just reminding me of my duty to the country, I guess. Nothing for you to be concerned about, Margot.” I sigh, smoothing my face into a pleasant expression. “Let us talk about other things. The art, for example. I thought you would like the exhibition.”
She arches a brow, then swings her gaze to the wall. A large photo of a busy Bombay market hangs in front of us, the image colorful and busy. While she looks at it, taking a little step toward the canvas, I look at her.
Margot really does look beautiful this evening. Her dress rustles a little as she leans forward, then she looks at me, her dark blue eyes crinkling with humor.
“Do you have any idea who this photographer is?”
I screw up my face. “No. This is a benefit for the Copenhagen Contemporary Museum. I just thought thatyou would appreciate this particular room, that’s all. You know. It’s the same kind of art that you do.”
Her lips curve up. “It’s very nice.”
I cock a brow. “There seems to be abutwaiting in the wings.”
“But nothing.” She comes closer, standing beside me and sliding her hand into the crook of my arm. “Is this okay?”
I look down into her face, my mouth kicking up. I hope that no one looks at the two of us standing so close and assumes that we are guilty of exactly what we are doing… but then again, I don’t really care. Not when she’s so close.
