"I'm over that game!" I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. "I'll call you in a few days. Be good."
"That's my line."
We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear.
I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Gideon.
"Necklace or no necklace?" I asked Cary, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention.
"Hmm." His head tilted to the side as he studied me. "Hold it up again."
I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cl**vage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut.
"Forget the necklace," he said. "I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I'm thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you've got."
"What? Really?" I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it.
"These." He brought them to me and I eyed the two-inch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. "Trust me, Eva. Try 'em on."
I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I'd never think of the same way again after Gideon's comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips.
"What would I do without you, Cary Taylor?"
"Baby girl" - he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine - "you'll never find out."
"You look awesome, by the way."
"Don't I?" He winked and stepped back, showing off.
In his own way, Cary could give Gideon a run for his money...er, looks. Cary was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Gideon's savage beauty, but both were striking men that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight.
Cary hadn't been quite so perfect when I met him. He'd been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I'd been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He'd finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to f**k him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I'd never had.
The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Cary. "I forgot to tell the front desk he was coming back."
"I'll get him."
"Are you going to be okay riding over with Stanton and my mom?"
"Are you kidding? They love me." His smile dimmed. "Having second thoughts about going with Cross?"
I took a deep breath, remembering where I'd been earlier - on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. "Not really, no. It's just that everything's happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted..."
"You're wondering what the catch is." Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. "He's the catch, Eva. And you landed him. Enjoy yourself."
"I'm trying." I was grateful that Cary understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn't explain something.
"I researched the hell out of him this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It's on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out."
I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. "You're the best. I love you."
"Back atcha, baby girl." He headed out. "I'll head down to the front desk and bring him up. Take your time. He's ten minutes early."
Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Gideon Cross's history.
It was like watching a train wreck to read that he was the son of Geoffrey Cross, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Gideon was just five years old when his dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time.
Oh, Gideon. I tried to picture him that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired boy with beautiful blue eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating his father's suicide - and the circumstances around it - must have been, for both him and his mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would've been enormous, especially for a child of that age.