City Chicks

Chapter 23

Twenty-Three

The warehouse was full of rich people, beautiful people, and the lucky few who were both. From across the sea of highlights and updos, tuxes and tiaras, he stood like a mannequin. Somewhat in the crowd, but also apart from it.

I saw him, and my entire self—body, mind, and soul—leapt. Elliot.

I knew he hated society events like this. Everyone dressed in clothes that cost enough to feed starving families for a generation, all in the name of raising money for some trendy cause on another. The choking stench of hypocrisy was overwhelming.

Fiona had told me about the gig. Some young, up-and-coming designer had hired a dozen professionals to model his wares at the event to show everyone how beautiful people looked in his clothes and to start the buzz about his new collection.

Fi had convinced him to take the job.

I watched as a rich, bored housewife walked up to him.

“Goo-ood evening,” she drawled, just before a pair of over-manicured fingers reached for his left cheek. “Who are you wearing tonight? Me?”

He stiffened as he turned to face his latest molester. “Good evening, ma’am. This is from Mario Max’s new collection.”

I swallowed a laugh. That wasn’t what she asked, and calling her ma’am would send her into a middle-aged crisis call to her plastic surgeon.

He groaned and rubbed his face as she stormed away. He looked miserable.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

“Something wrong, Sweet Tooth?”

He spun at the sound of my voice, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe I was there. His eyes devoured me, scanning first over my face then my body, as if he had to reassure himself that I was really there.

When he saw what I was wearing, his jaw dropped.

“Like what you see?” I asked.

He took it all in. I stood at least four inches taller than usual in a pair of black stilettos. My legs were encased in silky black stockings. The rest of my attire was concealed by the tan trench coat knotted tightly around my waist and buttoned all the way up to my neck.

It had taken all my courage to walk out of the house like that.

His gaze stuck on my hair. Well, not my hair. On the platinum blonde, Marilyn Monroe s*x kitten wig.

He stood silent, mouth agape and apparently unable to form words. Just as I had hoped.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said. One slow, seductive step at a time, I moved closer. “Wanna get out of here?”

He nodded, mumbling something that sounded like, “Yuh-hun.”

“Good.” I dropped to a confessional whisper. “I can barely remain upright in these shoes.”

That spurred him into action. In a flash, he took me by the hand and headed an emergency exit that had been blocked open in the back, navigating the overwhelming crowd. I ignored the jealous stares of women who wondered why I got to take him home. He was mine. All mine.

The exit led into a back alley illuminated by a million white Christmas lights. Several guests, needing their nicotine fix but not allowed to smoke inside, stood around looking fashionably rebellious.

I was about to ask him to find somewhere less crowded when he squeezed my hand and headed down the alley, around the corner, and into the connecting side alley that happened to be miraculously empty.

Not willing to take a chance, I double- and triple-checked the area.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “This is a perfectly safe neighborhood. Cops patrol it twelve-hundred times an hour.”

I laughed. “If you’re sure...”

My hands shook as I walked over to the brick wall and relaxed back against it.

“I’m sure.” He stepped toward me, his feet on either side of mine, trapping me between his body and the building, and cupped my face in his hands. “God, I’ve missed you, Lyd.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“It’s been over a week,” he said. “I was starting to think you’d chosen…”

He couldn’t even say Gavin’s name, but he didn’t have to. I’d made my choice. No one would come between us again.

“I had a lot of thinking to do,” I explained. “I thought a lot about what you said, about me being a Marilyn, not a Norma Jean. And I finally realized that you’re right. I am an atomic fireball.”

To emphasize my point, I slid my hands into his hair and pulled him down into a searing kiss. My lips opened over his and he groaned into my mouth, welcoming my exploring tongue. He leaned more fully into me, pressing me deeper into the wall and kicking his feet between mine so he could step into the vee of my thighs.

I almost got lost in the kiss. But I wasn’t done.

Pulling back, Elliot tried to follow me with his mouth. I placed a hand on his chest and held him back. “See.” One more quick kiss. “Firecracker.”

“Good thing I used to be a Boy Scout,” he teased. “I know how to start all kinds of fires.”

Our eyes met, and for several long seconds we just looked at each other.

Finally, in a low, serious voice, I confessed, “I love you, Elliot Phelps.”

“Yeah?” His mouth kicked up in that cocky smile. “Why is that?”

“Because you inspire me. You make me feel like I can be so much more than I am. You make me believe I can strike out on my own and make a go at having my own jewelry and accessories line.”

“Really?” He looked awestruck. “You’re not taking either job.”

“Nope,” I answered, excitement bubbling up in my chest. “I am currently unemployed.”

It was terrifying, but also thrilling. Just like life with Elliot would be.

“Not unemployed,” he insisted, picking me up by the waist and spinning me around. “You’re an entrepreneur.”

I giggled as he set me back down against the wall. “I guess I am.”

“I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you.” I pressed a soft kiss on his mouth. “I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you.”

“I like that kind of thank you,” he teased, kissing me back. “In fact, I could think of a few other ways you could thank me if you were so inspired. At least a dozen involving this trench coat.”

Placing my hands on his chest, I held him back again when he tried to steal another kiss.

“Actually, I came up with one on my own.”

“Really?” he growled.

“Hidden somewhere on my person is a symbol of how I feel for you.” I pushed him back a step, looked both ways down the alleyway, and tightened the belt on the coat. “Find it.”

With a primal growl, he lunged for me, his hands roaming every inch of my body.

“Sir,” a booming voice ordered, accompanied by the bright glare of a flashlight, “please step away from the lady.”

A patrolman stood at the mouth of the alley, a stern look of disapproval on his face. Elliot took a step back while I made sure I was fully covered. My attire was not meant to be seen by the NYPD.

“Is he bothering you, Miss?”

“N-no, officer,” I stammered as I clutched the trench coat over my chest. “He, um, is... his advances are welcome, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Miss.” The fatherly officer actually blushed. “Then you should take this somewhere private before you get an indecent exposure rap.”

“Right away, sir.”

When the officer didn’t move, Elliot took me by the hand and walked out of the alley. Within seconds he had hailed a cab and given the driver directions.

I yanked off the wig—it was itchy as hell—and flopped back against the seat.

“That was the most excitement I’ve had since...” She pondered, still grinning. “Well, since that boat ride in Italy.”

“I’m happy to be of service.” He reached for the trench coat. “Hey, where’s that thing hidden, anyway?”

Oh yeah. I checked the driver’s attention. Finding it on the road, I reached inside the coat, into my cleavage, and pulled out a small, round, shiny green ball. I reached forward and placed it against his lips, and he obligingly opened and let me drop it on his tongue.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he sucked on the ball. “Sweet. Whad ith it?”

“An Everlasting Gobstopper.”

This was a symbol of my feelings for him, that they were everlasting.

He grinned and spit the candy into his palm, depositing it in his jacket pocket before leaning in to kiss her confused mouth. “Then I’ll just make sure it lasts longer than Ever.”

I sighed and sank into his side. “I’ll hold you to that. Verbal contract.”

The cab pulled to a stop in front of Elliot’s building. We climbed out and while he paid the cabbie I reknotting the belt on the trench coat. I hadn’t even noticed him untying it. Sneaky, sneaky.

“Did I tell you my first name isn’t Elliot anymore?” he teased, taking my the arm and leading the way into the building. “I’ve changed it to Gobstopper.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m Everlasting.”

I laughed at his stupid joke, I couldn’t help it.

“I hope so,” I replied. “I expect to love you for a very long time.”

“Oh yeah,” he replied. “In love, too.”

He waggled his eyebrows and I smacked him with the wig. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

“That’s why you love me,” he teased.

“Yes,” I sighed in mock resignation, “I suppose it is.”

“Now we need to come up with a new name for you, Miss Vanderwalk.” As we crossed the lobby, he pretended to consider. “What goes with Gobstopper?”

“How about...” I whispered a suggestion in his ear.

His gaze melted me. Neither of us would ever look at Licorice Laces the same again.

“Naughty, naughty girl.” Elliot swung me into his arms and bounded up the stairs to his apartment. “I love candy.”