Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (12 page)

“Thanks, Taylor. It really helped a lot to talk about it. I’d actually forgotten that there were things that I liked about the bastard,” I said as I walked to my bedroom. I leaned on the door after I pushed it shut and laughed to myself. There really had been several hilarious moments. For the first time in months, I was really relaxed, happy, and looking forward to meeting someone.

***

“Wow! Did you see him? He’s gorgeous!” I gushed at Taylor. Marcus and Liam were in the living room while Taylor and I got drinks for the four of us. “Do you think he likes me?”

“Charlotte’s in love!” Taylor teased.

“No, but I could be!” I said as I headed out of the kitchen with a Jameson and ginger ale for him and some wine for me.

“Just don’t overdo it and say or do something you’ll regret,” she warned me.

When we returned to the living room, Liam complimented us on our apartment. While it was a relatively small space, we’d worked hard to make it look elegant and homey at the same time.

“Thanks! We thought about hiring a decorator but decided, between the two of us, we had enough estrogen to pull it off,” I joked.

Marcus decided to yank Taylor’s chain a bit. “Well, what they
aren’t
going to tell you is that they stole most of this stuff from Taylor’s parents’ houses. They had to! Otherwise they couldn’t afford their shoes.”

Taylor gave Marcus a look that would have made a lesser man run for the hills.

“We didn’t steal! They were redecorating. We were recycling! Besides, they’re free to have whatever they want back at any time!” She let herself be baited.

“Yes, but they’ve never been invited here, have they?” Marcus teased some more.

“No, but that isn’t because of the furniture. I just don’t think this space is big enough for my mother’s ego,” she responded.

After another round of drinks and our gabbing up a storm, we headed out to my favorite restaurant in the Meatpacking District, Restaurant Florent. It’s a quirky little restaurant that serves French food. While the food is great, I really go for the ambiance.

Earlier, when Taylor and I were discussing where to go, I’d suggested it. “Isn’t it a little ‘not too much’?”

“Well, I like it, and if he wants to get to know me, he might as well find out what kind of places I like to go to. Since this is my blind date, I should get to decide. See, it doesn’t really matter where you and Marcus want to go!” I got just lippy enough for her to realize I was messing with her.

Times like those I missed having Marian around. She would have entered the boxing ring with the enthusiasm of Mohammed Ali. We’d go a few rounds, swinging hard and taking head shots, but always in good fun. Not so with most people.

“Well then, Restaurant Florent it is,” Taylor’d acquiesced, her tone full of quiet superiority.

No jab.

Upon arriving at our destination, Liam’s reaction to the restaurant was perfect. “This is brilliant! I love it. Do you come here often? Is the food any good? Because, I’m ravenous.”

“Well, I love it, and the food is excellent!” I rejoiced and glanced at Taylor to give her an “I told you so” smile.

While studying the menu, I found I’d lost my ability to read. That was a good sign. Generally it meant that I was attracted to my date and had other things on my mind. Fortunately, I’d eaten there enough that I could wing it.

Liam asked, “Do you recommend anything in particular?”

I leaned into him to look at the menu with him, but that proved too huge a distraction, so, in the end, I just made random suggestions. All I was aware of was the heat of his body and the delicious way he smelled. God, he was gorgeous. His wavy black hair just begged to be rumpled.

I tilted my head up to look at him, and he quickly moved back a bit, looking like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Your hair smells incredible.”

If I were six inches taller, we’d have been nose to nose. Instead, we locked eyes, and my dark brown eyes were in complete contrast to his clear green peepers.

“You have the longest hair of anyone I’ve ever sat next to. I thought only mythical creatures could grow something so beautiful,” he continued.

Feeling tongue-tied and giddy, I managed, “I love the lemon ginger shampoo from L’Occitane.”

“I think I’ll need to buy some,” he said simply, but the glow in his eyes and gentle smile on his lips spoke volumes.

My brain went into overdrive, wondering what he meant by that.
Did he just like the shampoo? Was it an invitation to move in? Slow down!
I thought to myself.

Our quiet little tête-à-tête was broken by Marcus and Taylor. “Should we order a bottle of wine, or would you rather have a cocktail?”

Eventually we decided to order two different bottles of wine. My only request was that it wasn’t Beaujolais, at which point Taylor gave me a little smile.

After agreeing to the blind date, I’d dashed off a quick email to Taylor asking that she and Marcus not bring up the whole debacle with Des Bannerman. There was a fair chance that Liam already knew, but if he didn’t, I didn’t want to spend the evening discussing it.

A bottle of Cabernet and another of Chardonnay were brought to the table, and, after all the song and dance was performed, we accepted them as our chosen two.

Liam was pouring wine into my glass when he said, “So, I have one little question to ask you.” Between his physical appearance and gorgeous voice, he could have asked me to dance the Macarena on the table, and I would have been happy to comply.

“What’s that?” I inquired and held my breath.

“Do you really ‘recycle’ furniture so that you can support your shoe habit?”

“Absolutely, and I’m not ashamed to say so!”

He laughed, then looked down at my feet under the table and softly added, “Sexy shoes.” I blushed and had no idea what to say, so I picked up my wine glass and took a gulp. Knowing that he “liked” my shoes made me feel quite warm. I fanned myself with the wine list and giggled up at him.

We made it through dinner with much teasing and blushing. Marcus and Taylor let us have a few quiet moments, but, for the most part, we were a boisterous quartet enjoying the night.

“What should we do now?” Liam asked as we exited the restaurant.

“Well, do you feel like going to a club? Our
employer
is hosting a party for our latest and greatest client at the Bourgeois Pig in the East Village. We could mingle, drink, and see which celebrities Yvette has managed to entice to the party,” Taylor offered as an option. It wasn’t my first choice, but when Liam and Marcus seemed interested, I went along with the group.

The four of us piled into a cab and gave the driver the name of the club. We swerved, veered, careened, and eventually screeched to a stop near the club.

“Bloody hell! We’re lucky to have made it alive,” Liam exclaimed once he was on the pavement. The three of us laughed; we’d become immune to the terrors of riding in a Manhattan cab.

“I take it cab rides in Ireland are a lot more sedate than in New York City,” I mused.

“Our cabbies tend to be a little less aggressive and a lot more entertaining,” Liam replied, as he watched the cab zoom off with another fare.

“If you spend much time in the city, you’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” he said, a hint of lingering fear in his voice.

Taylor had made her way toward the entry, and, since it was already close to midnight, the line to get in was fairly long.

The young, beautiful, and well-dressed were lounging out front, trying to look bored rather than eager. Taylor was well known to the bouncer, since Faith Clarkson & Co. had used the Bourgeois Pig many times before. Vince, a handsome Italian-American with muscles to spare, let us past the velvet ropes. In we went.

The room was bustling with scantily-dressed women serving the cocktails for which the club was known, the Bordello Special and the Gogol Bordello. Seeing the fruity cocktails, Liam raised an eyebrow and inquired whether there were other, more manly beverages to be found.

“I’ll take you to the bar,” I offered, “and you can look at the menu. It’s huge. I’m sure you’ll find something you like.”

“Well, that I’ve already done. I’d follow you anywhere, and, if it leads me to a lager, I’ll be the happiest man on Earth,” he said, taking my hand. Looking up and surveying the situation, he said, “Seeing as you’re a wee bitty thing, I’d better go in front. You’re too short for the barman to see.” He smiled down at me, tightened his grip on my hand, and leaned down. “I’m very glad that it was me and not someone else who was sent here. I’d hate to think of you holding Edele’s hand.”

“Me, too,” I replied with a laugh.

“Off to find nourishment,” he declared, and so we went.

A few beers and much palavering later, I excused myself from Liam’s well-maintained side and made my way to the ladies’ room. I was finishing up in the stall when the outer door opened.

“Did you see him? I swear that has to be Des Bannerman. Who else could it be?” asked the unknown voice.

Instantly, my hands started to shake so badly I could barely organize my clothes.

The two women continued to chat about Des as they fixed their makeup. “He really is gorgeous. Did you get close enough to see those blue eyes? You know that movie he was in a few years ago,
Deadly Blue?
Do you think it was because of his eyes? I wonder if he’s alone.”

“Mental giants!” I muttered to myself. At the time of that film, I had loved Des Bannerman. While he was doing the promos for
Deadly Blue
, every TV talk show host had asked him that question. I thought about his interview with Dallin Jones, on
The Late Show
. Obviously tired of the question, he had appeared on
The Late Show
wearing brown contacts. David made a great show of using his pen to strike a question off the list. “Guess I won’t be asking that,” he’d quipped. Des’s broad grin had filled the camera when it zoomed in on him.

Shaking off the past, I finally gathered enough courage to exit the stall and approach the sink. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw what I feared. Instead of the happy, relaxed, and flirty person who had entered, I saw a scared, pale, fragile-looking creature staring back at me.

I pulled my cell from my purse and dialed Taylor’s number. “Hello?” came her voice above all the background noise from the club.

“Come to the restroom,
NOW
!” My two companions were clearly used to odd things, because they didn’t stop applying their lip gloss when I shouted into the phone.

Moments later, Taylor appeared, and the two women exited. Perhaps they were afraid, after all. “Listen, those two women who just left said that Des Bannerman is here. What am I going to do?” I asked frantically. “I can’t be here if he is!” And I don’t want Liam to see me get arrested. If he finds out, he’s going to think that I’m some kind of freakazoid stalker.”

Taylor wet down paper towels with cold water, passed them to me, and ordered I put them on my cheeks. “First of all, relax! I’ll scout around, find Yvette, and ask if he’s here. If he is, we’ll just leave. I’ll think of some excuse.” She squeezed my hands and tried to convey that all would be right in the world. “Just calm down. I’ll be right back, and then we’ll know what to do.”

She finally returned with a big, fake smile on her face. “Okay, he is in fact here. He’s across the room from Marcus and Liam. Fortunately, it’s pretty dark out there. So, why don’t we discreetly leave?”

I nodded, because I was too nervous to speak. I took one more look in the mirror. I’d used the time Taylor was doing reconnaissance to powder my nose and fix my lipstick. I nodded again, giving the go-ahead.

As we opened the door, Liam was standing just outside. “Is everything okay? You’ve been gone quite a while. I thought perhaps you were trying to run out on me by shimmying away through the kitchen,” he said with a smile.

Shocked to see him, and added to the current circumstances, my brain fritzed. Thankfully, Taylor took over. “No, of course not! There’s always a line. How about we go get Marcus and head back to our place for coffee?”

Liam looked back and forth between Taylor and me. I could tell he sensed that something had happened. “Why don’t you wait for us out front, and I’ll go get Marcus?” he offered, giving my hand a squeeze. I’d never felt so much relief and returned the gesture to convey my gratitude. He gave me another reassuring look before leaning down and planting a kiss on my cheek.

“Right then, we’ll meet you out front,” he said softly, and off he went.

“Get me the hell out of here!” I hissed to Taylor. We walked as far away from where Des had last been sighted as possible. I kept my head down. It was one of the few times in my life I’d actually been grateful for being the height of an Oompa Loompa.

“We’re almost there,” Taylor reported. I fixed my eyes on the back of her heels and kept walking.

Suddenly, there was a lot of jostling beside me, and, out of reflex, I glanced up to see what was happening. There, among the multitudes of female party-goers was
Deadly Blue
himself. I saw a flicker of recognition.

“Crap! Move!” I ordered, and Taylor picked up the pace. She had to, since I was shoving her from behind. We rushed to the entrance, much like rats scurrying through a maze. I registered commotion behind me.

“Charlotte! Stop!” called a familiar British voice. Not anxious to find out what he wanted, I kept scurrying. Suddenly, we burst out onto the sidewalk. I had the sensation similar to when you burst through the surface of water. Cool, fresh, reviving air. We’d made it through the maze but, instead of cheese at the end, we had our freedom.

Or so I thought. Until I heard, “Charlotte, please stop.”

Taylor took the matter in hand. “Charlotte, just keep walking. If anything comes of this, I’ll testify that you did your best to avoid him and that he approached you repeatedly.” I trotted away on my stilettos.

A hand caught my shoulder. “Bloody hell, Charlotte! Stop!”

The same hand swung me around. It all happened so fast. One minute I was in escape mode, and the next I was spinning on dangerously high heels, and then I was grabbing for anything to stop me from falling. I reached out a hand to the nearest thing, which turned out to be Des Bannerman and, more specifically, Des Bannerman’s cheek. I looked up and attempted to register several bewildering sights.