She wanted Sara to feel and look perfect on her wedding day, more than she had for any of her clients, except KT.
She thought about her own dress. Her wedding day had always been an ephemeral idea—some date in the future that she wasn’t particularly rushed to get to. She flipped to her own dress and pictured wearing it. How she’d feel.
She pictured Nick seeing her in it, the way he’d looked at her when she’d tried on wedding dresses in that shop—like she was his princess.
“Why are you staring into space?” Chloe said, breaking into her reverie.
She’d almost forgot the girl was there. “No reason.”
Chloe studied her. Finally she said, “Are you thinking about a boy?”
Rosalind blinked. “What do you know about boys?”
Her niece looked at her like she was an idiot.
She pointed a finger at the teenager. “It’s natural to be curious, but if I find out you’re messing around with boys, I’ll lock you in this closet.”
Chloe shrugged sadly. “Mum doesn’t care.”
“I sincerely doubt that.” Rosalind set her pad down. “Is there a boy you like?”
The girl shrugged again, exaggeratedly blasé. “They’re all losers.”
Rosalind sighed, finally getting it. “They are, especially if they can’t see how great you are.”
Her niece stiffened.
She took Chloe’s hand. “Promise me you’ll hold out for someone you really, really like. You don’t think so, but, trust me, it makes a big difference.”
Chloe swung her big blue eyes at her. “Is there someone you like?”
“Yes,” she said, thinking about Nick.
“Have you told him you like him?”
She frowned, thinking back. Had she? She thought it’d been pretty clear, but maybe not. “I’m not sure.”
“Maybe you should,” the teenager said, as though she were the adult.
“You’re right. I should.” She smiled at Chloe and then hugged her briefly. “Thank you. I needed that wisdom.”
The girl looked surprised by the praise, but then her expression lightened. She nodded and lowered her head to read again.
Rosalind stared at her—what her sister had created—and felt something loosen in her chest. Scooting closer to the girl so their knees were touching, she opened her pad and thought about how she’d tell Nick she liked him. That she liked him a lot—the sort of like that led down the aisle.
Chapter Twenty-four
Nick’s cell phone rang as Santiago—the makeup artiste, as the man called himself—was prepping him for the Calvin Klein photo shoot. He pulled it out, smiling when he saw Rosalind’s name.
Then his smile faded—he couldn’t answer her call now. She didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. She didn’t know Calvin Klein owned his ass, or that it was insured with Lloyd’s of London for several million.
“Stop that.” Santiago lifted Nick’s chin, frowning as he dabbed more stuff on his face. “I’m never going to finish your face if you don’t stop squirming. If you want to take your life into your hands and annoy Serge, fine, but it’s your ass on the line.”
“Literally,” he said, amused by his own joke.
Santiago heaved a sigh, like he was incredibly put upon. “It is not easy being an artiste.”
Especially one with an identity crisis, because Santiago had a Cockney accent.
“How’s it coming along here?” Jon asked as he walked up. “Ready for the photo shoot?”
Santiago sighed again. “It’s going terribly. This man cannot sit still.”
“He’s a race car driver. They move fast.” Jon smiled winningly at Santiago, who sniffed indignantly and then turned around. His manager made a face at the man’s back before facing Nick. “You ready for this?”
Nick shrugged. “I’ve got boxer briefs on under this robe, if that’s what you mean.”
“Most men would be excited about this opportunity.”
Yes, well, he was over it. The fact that he couldn’t tell Rosalind about any of it didn’t make him any happier, either. “I need to talk to you about that, Jon.”
“Not this again.” His manager groaned. “Listen, Nick, why don’t you take a couple weeks and go someplace warm where girls in bikinis bring you drinks? Relax, unwind, and then come back fresh to get ready for Australia. The team is counting on you to return.”
“I’m not racing in Australia, and you aren’t going to make me feel guilty for leaving the team. McGuire will be thrilled to drive in the limelight on his own, and that young kid David Jay has potential to back him.” He winced as Santiago came at him with tweezers. “Is that necessary? They’re going to be taking pictures from behind, not of my face.”