.
Читать онлайн книгу.
and say, “That’s the latest Cynthia Dempsey design.”
If that wasn’t enough, she now had an added layer of pressure. She wanted to look good for Will, too. When she stepped out in this gown with her hair and makeup done, she wanted him to curse. She wanted him to threaten to rip it off her body and delay their arrival at the party—if they arrived at all—even though she was the guest of honor. To be honest, she wanted him to be as miserable with desire all night as she would undoubtedly be.
Will was a strikingly handsome man. Not pretty, like so many of the models in the magazines, but everything a man should be. Hard. Sophisticated. Confident. She’d seen him in everything from khakis to a suit, but she could only imagine how delicious he would look in his tuxedo. He had the broad shoulders and narrow waist that the jacket would cling to. His high, firm rear and solid thighs would be on display in his meticulously tailored suit pants. All he’d have to do is flash her one of his charming smiles and she’d be a puddle on the floor. Her best defense was a good offense, and she was going to make sure her new dress blew his mind.
Picking up her sketchbook, she flipped through pages to see if any of the designs sparked her imagination. So far, she’d done a lot of casual wear and separates with a retro feel and modern styling. One of the sketches for a daytime dress caught her attention, and she knew that that was the piece she needed to use to transition the style into an elegant, formal look. The dress was fitted with a pencil-skirt silhouette and a sweetheart neckline that appeared to be like a corset atop a white dress shirt. It was a smart daytime look for the office.
Flipping to a blank page, she pulled out her colored pencils and started working on a new design. Like the daywear, this dress had a fitted silhouette, although instead of the skirt falling at the knee with a ruffled kick pleat, the gown would take it a step further by blooming into a full mermaid skirt. She echoed the neckline with a strapless sweetheart top that plunged deep in the center.
Losing herself in the sketch for an unknown amount of time, she added special details and penciled in the texture she hoped the fabric and beading she chose would provide.
Rubbing her eyes, she sat back from the picture and admired it with pride. Making this gown in time for her mother’s party would be a challenge, but she could do it. The structure was actually easier to construct than sportswear. There was just one last decision to make—the color.
The theme of her collection had been a lot of black and white with pops of color. The dress would be stunning in black, but would it stand out enough? By the same token, she dismissed the bright pinks and teals other pieces had. That would be too much. Her gaze drifted over the pile of fabrics on the makeshift worktable that used to be a red sofa. It landed on a color she hadn’t used yet, but that could easily be worked in. It was sure to be a stunner. She picked up the matching pencil off the table and started shading the dress, a smile curving her lips as she worked and brought the sketch to life. It was perfect.
Emerald green, just like her eyes.
* * *
Will found himself in the Flower District the next day after work. He hadn’t been joking when he’d told Cynthia he was a little rusty where dating was concerned. He’d dated in high school and the first few years of college, but once he and Cynthia got together during their junior year, that was it. College girls hadn’t required much wooing, and Cynthia had never been one for silly things like flowers and chocolates in the past. She wanted ice. He wouldn’t have bought her an engagement ring guaranteed to get her mugged one day if she hadn’t made it perfectly clear what she expected.
But now he had no idea what she expected. Well, actually he did. She expected very little, so any gesture would be welcome. That almost made it harder. He didn’t want to slack off or not put in the effort she deserved because she was easy to please.
He picked up a bundle of roses. They were fresh and pink and reminded him of the color she blushed when he kissed her. Pink was her favorite color. Turning, he spied a few different types of lilies one stall down. Would she prefer something more exotic?
Will ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation and shook his head. He could only guess, so he opted to follow his instincts and go with his first choice. He walked to the counter, paid for the pink roses and hopped back in the cab that was waiting for him. Hopefully she would like them.
He rang the doorbell of their apartment when he got home instead of going inside. Her footsteps thumped across the floor as though she were running to the door.
“Did you forget your k—” she started as she flung it open, then she stopped when her gaze fell on the flowers in his hands. “Oh,” she said, a smile lighting her face.
“I’m taking you on a dinner date this evening.” He held out the flowers. “These are for you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Let me put these in some water and I’ll get ready.”
Will nodded and followed her inside the apartment, shutting the door behind him. He watched as she searched the cabinets until she found a vase, unwrapped the flowers and arranged them in water before placing them on the kitchen table. “They’re beautiful, Will, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I got us reservations for dinner at six-thirty. You’d better get a move on if we’re going to make it on time.”
Cynthia glanced at the clock and gasped, turning on her bare heels to disappear into the back of the apartment. Will waited patiently on the couch, wondering if she could manage to get ready that quickly.
Ten minutes later, he got his answer. She emerged from the back in a fitted black skirt and a ruffled white top with black details and stitching. She’d pulled her dark brown hair up into a bun and put on some lipstick that made her lips look pouty and plump like cherries. It was perfect.
“You look stunning,” he said.
“Thank you. I tried to hurry.”
“You did very well. We might even get there early.”
They gathered their coats and caught a cab to the restaurant. It was an expensive Italian place, but not one of the society haunts where they might run into someone they knew. Not that she knew anyone. This being their first date, he wanted it to be private and without people gossiping about where they were and why her ring was suspiciously absent.
They were seated at a curved, burgundy leather booth for two, the table lit with the soft glow of candlelight. The sommelier brought him the wine list, and he was two seconds from ordering for her when he stopped. He didn’t know what she liked anymore. “Do you want a diet soda, or would you like to try some wine tonight?” he asked.
She thought about it for a moment. “I’d like to try wine, but I want something light and sweet.”
He nodded, taking the sommelier’s suggestion for a brand of Riesling and a cabernet sauvignon for himself. Once they gave the waiter their order, they were finally left alone with a crusty loaf of bread and some herb-infused olive oil.
“Normally on a first date, I think I would ask a woman about herself, what she likes to do, where she grew up. Unfortunately, I don’t think you know the answers.”
Cynthia laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Mmm…this is lovely, thank you for choosing it. It might be hard, but maybe I can learn something about you and me while we’re at it. Give it a try.”
“Okay,” he said, tearing a chunk of bread from the loaf and dipping it. “We’ll go more esoteric, then. If you were trapped on a desert island, what three things would you take with you?”
“Well, if we’re talking deserted with absolutely nothing, I say food, water and a toothbrush. If that kind of stuff is covered, then I say some books, a sketch pad with pencils and an mp3 player with a solar battery pack. How about you?”
“Given base needs are met, I would take.” he shook his head. “I almost can’t even say. I wouldn’t know what to do with a bunch of leisure time.”
“What do you like to