The bride-to-be’s dark, sleek bob shimmered in the overhead lights, her brown eyes lit with excitement. “Guests are starting to arrive, Elena. And Honor! Oh my God, I just came from the patio. The cakes are ah-maz-ing.”
Relief turned her polite smile into a grin. Taking a breath to calm her nerves, she slid her hands into her back pockets and squared her shoulders. No time to be modest. “Thank you. I’m going to brag and say they taste even better.”
“I can’t wait—though it’s going to kill me to cut into them.”
She’d heard that a thousand times and always had the same answer. “That’s what cameras are for. Cake is made to be eaten.”
“My brother will take care of that,” Celia assured her. “The pictures and the eating. Cake is his kryptonite—especially if it has butter cream frosting.”
The comment brought to mind her cake-loving neighbor, but she shoved his sexy, jerky mental image aside with a determined scowl.
A slight frown marred the other woman’s brow as her gaze skimmed Honor’s black T-shirt and jeans. “Aren’t you staying for the party?”
“My dress is in my car. I didn’t want to get it dirty. In fact, I was just going to ask if there’s a bathroom I can change in?”
Celia’s nose wrinkled. “Skip the bathroom. You can use my room.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“I insist.”
Honor relented with a grateful smile. “That would be great, then. Thank you.”
“Of course.” A woman’s voice called Celia’s name from the other room and her hair swished against her chin as she glanced toward the door, then started to back up. “I have to help my mom with the last of the flower arrangements, so just head up the stairs, and it’s the third bedroom on the right.”
“Oh. Um…o-kay.” The last was spoken to an empty doorway.
From over by the stove, Elena shook her head with a soft chuckle. “I’ll point you in the right direction, hon. Go get your dress.”
Honor gave her the grateful smile this time, then hurried out to her car. When she returned with the dress and her duffle, the housekeeper pointed her through the same doorway Celia had disappeared and instructed her to take a right, go down the hall, then left up the stairs.
Not a single one of the small army of workers gave her a second glance as she threaded her way through to the stairs and gingerly sidled past a thick, satin rope barrier. The second floor was completely empty, as if she’d passed through some sort of invisible portal on her way up. The muted quiet soothed her nerves, until she realized if someone exited any of the doors lining either side of the wide hall, they’d wonder what the heck she was doing up there.
Which meant, time to get moving so no one had to wonder and she didn’t have to explain. Mae had talked her into wearing her hair down, and her make-up was already done, so all she had to do was slip into the dress and then return her bag to her vehicle.
Moving to the third door on the right, she stepped inside the room, only to hesitate when she saw the navy blue and maroon accents. Glancing back out into the still deserted hall, she counted again. It was indeed the third door, but certainly not what she’d expected for a girl’s room. Make that a woman—Celia was two years older than her.
Then again, she wasn’t into soft and frilly, pink, or anything else pastel, so maybe she shouldn’t assume the bride-to-be was either.
She shut the door with a quiet click and crossed the plush carpet to the king sized bed. As she laid her dress bag across the comforter and plunked her duffle next to it, a swift perusal of the room confirmed her old apartment could fit into this one room. But that didn’t matter anymore, did it? Now, she had her own house.
A brief grin twitched her lips. It wasn’t a mansion by the Diamond’s standards, but it was her mansion.
Toeing off her shoes, she shot a quick glance toward the French doors leading to a second story balcony. This side of the house faced the backyard where the party would be held, but from where she stood, only the roof of the stables, and the fences and horses beyond were visible past the wrought iron railing.
Lingering nervous energy tickled her stomach as she opened the garment bag before stripping down to the black strapless bra and matching panties under her casual clothes. While sliding the dress zipper down, her fingers stroked the cool burgundy fabric. It pooled on the ground at her feet, and when she stepped into it, the soft, clingy material slid over her thighs and hips with a sensual caress that sent a shiver of decadence up her spine.
Between the mansion and the dress, she was beginning to feel like Cinderella.
Honor grinned at the thought and started to tug the princess-seamed bodice up over her bra. When the door swung open, a spike of alarm slayed her humor. She clutched the top of the dress to her chest as she jerked her head up with a gasp.
The sight of her equally shocked neighbor filling the doorway lodged her pounding heart in her throat.
“Whoa…hello.”
Noticing his gaze focused much lower than eye level, she darted a hasty glance down to make sure her bra was covered. “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, making necessary adjustments while heat seared her cheeks.
“I am here for my parents’ anniversary party. What are you doing here?”