Chapter Seven
As was her wont, Sheree slept late. On waking, she spent half an hour meditating, took a quick shower, and then went downstairs for breakfast.
She had often thought of hiring a housekeeper, or maybe a chef. Or maybe both. But cooking and cleaning the house gave her something to do, and though her mother would never understand, Sheree found a certain satisfaction in knowing how to cook and keep house. Of course, once she got married, she would never have to lift a hand again, especially if she married a man of her mother’s choosing.
Sheree pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she waited for her toast to pop up. She kept hoping her mother would stop her eternal matchmaking. In a letter received only a few days ago, her mother had touted her two latest choices: Ralph Upton, only son of a prominent surgeon and a successful lawyer who was on the fast track to becoming a millionaire in his own right, and Neil Somerset of the New York Somersets, who had recently invented a new and improved weapons system that was going to make his company richer than it was already.
She shuddered. All the money in the world wouldn’t get her into bed with Neil, or Ralph, either.
After buttering her toast, Sheree poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat at the table. She had met Ralph Upton at a benefit last year. Nothing her mother said would persuade her to consider him for a husband. As for Neil Somerset, he was a playboy, just like his father.
In the living room, Sheree practiced her tai chi, her thoughts wandering to Derek. How did he spend his days? Was he thinking of her? Would he be at the club tonight? He hadn’t said anything about meeting again.
Nevertheless, later that day she haunted the shops on Rodeo Drive looking for just the right outfit. She found it at her third stop: a pair of slinky red leather pants; a low-cut, see-through white sweater paired with a white tank top; and a pair of red, high-heeled sandals. She nodded as she looked at herself in the mirror. If this didn’t make Derek sit up and take notice, nothing would.
Sheree glanced at the club’s entrance, then at her watch. It was after eleven. Time to call it a night. She felt suddenly foolish for sitting there waiting for Derek. Surely, if he had any interest in seeing her again, he would have been there by now. There was no denying she had been attracted to him. Had she read more into their meeting than was there?
Just as she was about to leave two elderly women entered the club, a sort of female Mutt and Jeff, Sheree thought, grinning. One was tall with white hair, the other shorter with bright red hair. She had never seen two people who looked more out of place. They both wore long black skirts and brightly colored blouses. They had to be in their seventies, Sheree mused. What on earth were they doing in a place like this? Arm in arm, they circled the edge of the dance floor until they found an empty table.
Slipping off the bar stool, Sheree settled her handbag over her shoulder, then headed for the door.
And bumped into the very man she had been waiting for all night. “Derek!”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked.
Pride and hurt feelings urged her to say yes and sweep past him. But there was nothing waiting for her at home. And she was all dressed up. . . .
“Sheree?” He flashed her a megawatt smile. “I know we didn’t say anything about meeting tonight, but I was hoping you’d be here.”
“I guess I have time for one drink,” she said, and hoped she didn’t sound too eager.
“Great.” Taking her by the hand, he led her to a small table and held her chair. Whistling softly, he sat across from her. “You look terrific.”
“Thank you.”
“Is that a new outfit?”
“This old thing? Heavens no, I’ve had it for hours.” Her shopping spree had cost her over eight hundred dollars, but when he smiled at her again, she considered it money well spent.
“Sit tight,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Sheree smiled as she watched him thread his way through the crowd toward the bar. She couldn’t help noticing that several other women were also tracking him, including the two elderly women, who had their heads together. She would have given up her new Jimmy Choo’s to know what they were saying.
Derek returned a short time later with their drinks.
“Thank you.” Feeling as though she was being watched, Sheree glanced at the two old women again. They weren’t looking at her, but at Derek, an expression that looked almost like avarice in their eyes. “Do you know those two women?” she asked. “The ones in the brightly colored shirts?”
“No,” he said. “Should I?” But even as he spoke the words, he had the strangest feeling that he should know the red-haired one.