to Cal. "Make sure that the last details are done."
Dusk was settling into night as they made their way to the long, wide fairway of the golf course's first hole. Three tents were set up there, one for drinks, one for dinner, and one for dessert. A large catering staff bustled about each. "Forty-five minutes until the first of the guests arrive," a dark-suited man called out to the bartenders in the first tent. "Get that glassware polished."
Johnny and Cal came to a stop between the second and third tents, where a large wooden dance floor had been laid out. Fairy lights were strung from a central pole in the dance surface then looped to a lower framework that ran around its edges, creating a "roof" that twinkled like stars. A nine-piece band was already setting up music stands and opening instrument cases.
"Oh, there's Rachele," Cal said, in that besotted tone he usually saved for his latest iMac laptop.
She was emerging from the third tent, a clipboard in hand. A slinky green dress, resembling the satin lingerie of some silent-era Hollywood star, petaled around her knees like a mermaid's tail.
Johnny gave her an admiring once-over as she approached them. He elbowed his favorite tech-head. "Who's this beautiful dame deigning to talk to us, Cal?"
The younger man shot him a puzzled glance. "It's Rachele. I just pointed her out to you."
Johnny shook his head, even as Rachele dimpled in a smile. 'Thank you, sir," she said, and twirled for the two men. "Do you notice the emerald streaks I put in my hair to match my dress?"
"Excellent choice," Johnny answered, noticing the effect was a much softer look, now that the rest of her hair was a more normal-looking - perhaps natural? - chocolate-brown. Her makeup was more subtle tonight as well. "And I like the little jewel dangling from the eyebrow ring too." Because Rachele wouldn't be Rachele without her little fashion quirks.
'Tea gave it to me," she replied. "A thank you for all the overtime I'm going to be charging her for - which consequently means will be billed to you." She looked so pleased with that remark, that Johnny wondered if the contessa had spilled his duplicity to her assistant.
He shrugged away the guilt, even as he wondered for the hundredth time what impulse had pushed him past good judgment and into a flaming affair that he'd known could only end in ashes. "Does she need any further help from Cal or... me?"
Rachele glanced over her shoulder. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"
Johnny followed the direction of her gaze. From the same tent that Rachele had recently emerged, another woman strolled into the night.
She was taller than Tea. Wearing a painted-on-her-body, full-length, sleeveless dress that scooped over spectacular breasts, hugged a narrow waist, licked over curvy hips and thighs to end in a frothy swirl from knees to ankles. A red dress. Cherry red. Flame red. Brand-him-through-his-flesh red.
This woman spotted them, hesitated, then started forward again, graceful in pin-sharp high heels. Her neck looked incredibly long and graceful too, with her dark hair piled on top of her head. One long, wavy lock was freed at the front to flirt with the outer arc of her eyebrow and the outer curve of her red, pouty lips.
She wore rubies in her ears, and from a gold chain around her neck hung a ruby-encrusted heart. Now that she was close enough for him to see her jewelry, he also recognized her one-of-a-kind, exotic face.
Jesus Christ. It was Tea.
Looking taller thanks to heels and hairdo. Looking more voluptuous than ever, thanks to the second-skin dress. Looking more like the damnedest mistake he'd ever made in his life when she flicked a cool glance at him from her sloe eyes.
"Cal," she said, with a little nod. "Johnny."
He nodded back. God knows where his tongue had disappeared to.
Rachele helped out. "They wanted to know if you need any assistance," she said.
"Like I could taste-test the food," Cal offered.
Tea laughed. "If you're hungry, go help yourself, Cal. You too, Rach."
That left Johnny alone with the contessa. "You look beautiful," he said, managing to reclaim his powers of speech as the younger couple walked off.
"Always so charming," she murmured. "Thank you."
The response set his back teeth to grinding again. Her "always so charming" held the definite ring of "always so insincere."
"You're welcome," he said in a wry tone. "I'll be on my way then."
"Wait." She put out her hand, stopping just short of touching him.