Part 25 (1/2)

I dab a little cerulean blue, adding color to my sky, a little pizzazz to my scenery of Old Montreal. ”You heard me right.” I'm copying the image from a photo I took years ago, when Gabe and I went there for a romantic getaway-we had so much fun-all we did was walk, eat good food, and make love.

”He really asked you to strip for him?” Gwen asks, trying to whisper-but there's no whispering in Gwen's range-it's conversation volume, loud, and louder.

A smile curves on Cecilia's lips. And I decide I don't care if she's spying on me. If I can add a little excitement to her life, then so be it.

I stretch my arm out to get a look at my artwork from a distance. ”I was so nervous.” To my dismay, my perspective is completely off. I should have been a little more focused on my art and a little less on dis.h.i.+ng about Weston.

”I couldn't even get the dress off,” I whisper. ”I was all twisted up like a pretzel, trying to unzip it.”

Both Gwen and Cecilia giggle.

”Ah,” I say, pointing a finger. ”I knew you could hear me, Cecilia.”

She looks away and swiftly focuses on her tulips, pretending to be innocent.

But I know better.

”So what happened?” Gwen asks, completely intrigued. She's stopped painting-her half-finished cow stares blankly at us, waiting for her spots.

”He helped me out,” I say softly. ”He unzipped me. He was so tender about it, kissing me on the neck, undoing me really slowly. I think it might have been the most erotic moment of my life.”

”Wow,” is all Gwen manages to say, her mouth agape.

I look over at Cecilia-she's staring at us again, jaw hanging.

”You should see this man, Cecilia,” Gwen tells her. ”He's absolutely gorgeous.”

I can't believe I'm sharing all these details...but, I can't help it.

And I don't care if Cecilia listens. And everyone else is at the far end of the room. I wonder what Cecilia thinks about all this. Although we've sat beside each other for a few cla.s.ses, we've never actually spoken. Does she know I'm married? If she has any observation skills, she would have noticed my wedding ring.

But I don't care.

”How far did you go?” Gwen asks.

”All of it.” I confess. ”He wanted it all off.”

Gwen bites her lip. ”What underwear did you wear?”

”The black silky ones,” I whisper, ”with black thigh-highs and a garter belt.”

”G.o.d...that's hot.”

Cecilia is still staring, jaw still hanging, eyes bulging out of her head. I think I've thoroughly scandalized her.

I almost want to apologize.

”Okay,” I finally say. ”That's enough talk about that.” I'm not about to tell anyone about spreading my legs wide for him, and kneeling on all fours to give him a VIP view of my a.s.s.

That would be going too far.

”You're such a tease,” Gwen pouts, picking up her paintbrush.

And Cecilia smirks.

I'm filled with nervous energy as I sit on the sleek leather seat of Weston's car. I'm not sure where I'm heading. All I was told in Kathryn's e-mail was to dress up-something red.

I've picked the shortest of my three red dresses, a cla.s.sic flowing, silky dress, snug at the waist. I've paired the dress with strappy red heels and a chunky silver necklace.

Edward drops me off at the Lake Point Tower on the peninsula. As he opens the car door for me, I gaze up at the sky, trying to see the top of the spectacular building, but my eyes can't seem to reach high enough.

Weston meets me at the entrance, dressed in a tailored two-b.u.t.ton gray suit, with striped navy s.h.i.+rt-he looks as splendid as ever.

He touches my elbow ever so slightly and kisses me on the cheek. ”You look wonderful. I love the dress.”

”I'm glad you approve,” I reply, noticing his red tie-we make quite the handsome couple.

”Why red?” I ask as he leads me toward a private elevator.

”I wanted to see you in red.” His eyes have that look again-that look which makes me want to just rip his clothes off. But I settle for a light touch of his tie, which is peeking through the bottom of his jacket. I notice he only has one b.u.t.ton done again-it gives him a casual, very s.e.xy vibe. I don't know who his stylist is, but she must be the best in the business-she definitely has s.e.x-appeal down to an art.

My touch doesn't go unnoticed. I can see it in his eyes. I get a thrill out of the fact that my touch seems to affect him as much as his affects me.

”I thought red would suit your complexion-your dark hair and dark eyes.”

”And?”

He smiles, taking my hand. ”I was right on the money.”

We make our way into the elevator, and I hope to steal a kiss, but the ride to the seventieth floor is so fast, we barely even have a chance to look at each other, let alone get frisky.

The hostess takes my jacket and leads us to our table. The restaurant seems to be glowing-candlelight, plush seats, mirrors, steel and polished copper. The panoramic views of the city and lakefront completely mesmerize me. As I look out at the city lights stretching for miles, I understand why Weston insisted on a late dinner.

We sit down at a quaint cloth-covered table right by the window. The atmosphere is so cla.s.sy and romantic.

It's perfect.

I feel like a princess. Weston makes me feel like a princess, I muse, looking up at him in his fabulous suit.

”This is one of my favorite restaurants,” he says, unfolding his cloth napkin. ”I wanted to share it with you.”

”Thank you.” I take in my surroundings. ”It's wonderful.”

”I like the logistics, the design,” he explains. ”It's very streamlined. It was designed by a mathematician.”

”A very brilliant man I'm sure.”

”A woman actually. I think it's what makes it so unique.”

I smile up at him. He has got to be the most adorable geek I have ever met. ”But what about the food?” I tease.