"Thank you," I said, as we all clinked glasses.
There was some more general discussion about the house, and I probably bored Nikki to death with my musings about where I was going to put my furniture. She was, however, polite enough to look interested. And considering she made a few suggestions, maybe she genuinely was.
"Now that Katrina's signed her papers," Damien said, turning toward Cole, "I should tell you that all of the documents you'll need to sign will be ready in the morning. I'm sorry I'll be out of town, but Charles will meet you at my office, and he'll push everything through. And then Nikki and I will see you in Chicago for the wedding."
"Looking forward to it," Cole said. "And I appreciate you going out on a limb like this."
"I'm not," Damien said. "It's a good investment, albeit a bit tricky in the details."
Nikki rolled her eyes. "Next he's going to say that's what makes it fun."
Damien shrugged. "Well, it is." He stroked his fingers over her shoulder, but spoke to Cole. "I'll check in from Tokyo. But if you need anything, Charles will take care of it," he added, referring again to his attorney.
"Tokyo?" I said. "Business?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, but not mine."
"It's my first international trade show for my software development company," Nikki said. "Thank goodness Damien's going to be there to hold my hand."
They had, I noticed, been holding hands or otherwise touching throughout the evening.
It had made me happy to see it. For that matter, it had made me want that, too. But even as I was wishing for that very thing, I realized that Cole had held my hand most of the afternoon. And now, his fingertips were resting on my thigh. During the meal, he'd brushed his thumb over my lip to catch a bit of mustard. And more than once he'd fed me a bite of dessert off his fork.
I reached over and took his hand, then met his eyes.
What? he mouthed.
But I just smiled, thinking of how much I already had, and how lucky I felt simply being with this man. And how, at least for the moment, everything was right with the world.
When Cole suggested that we take a quick stroll through the gallery, I'd expected to see colorful paintings that featured the sea. Wyland-style images that were so often popular in coastal communities.
What I saw instead, was me.
Not just me, of course. But there was an entire wall featuring portraits similar to the ones that I'd seen at the Chicago gallery. All anonymous, true, but now that I knew the subject of the portraits, it was easy enough to recognize myself.
"I had no idea," I said, taking Cole's hand. "How many of these have you painted?"
His mouth quirked up. "How many hours have I lost watching you?"
"Lost?" I teased.
"Invested," he said. "Treasured. Enjoyed."
I leaned in close and kissed him. "Better," I said. "And I really am flattered. Awed." I shook my head, not quite able to find the words. "Each time I see myself on a canvas and know that it was your brushstrokes that put me there--I don't know, Cole. It makes me feel warm inside. It makes me feel special."
"That's because you are," he said. "That's because I can't see you any other way."
Nikki and Damien had come with us, and though Damien had moved to the far side of the room to admire some colorful glass sculptures, Nikki was close enough to have overheard our conversation. When Cole kissed my cheek, then headed across the room to join Damien, she moved to my side.
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," Nikki said, "but I couldn't help but overhear."
"It's okay," I said. "I love these images. I fell in love with the first one I saw even before I realized it was me."
"Really?" She lifted a brow. "And when you realized that Cole had painted it?"
I pressed my lips together. "It's like what I told him--it made me feel special." What I didn't add--what I still couldn't say out loud--was that it made me feel loved.
Beside me, Nikki nodded, and I saw understanding on her face.
"Damien didn't paint your portrait," I said. "But I'm guessing you felt the same way."
"You know about that?"
I lifted a shoulder. "It was kind of all over the news." Damien Stark had paid a million dollars for a nude, erotic portrait of Nikki. She'd been anonymous in the portrait--her face hidden. But when her identity had been revealed--along with the fact that she and Damien were a couple--the press had gone on a feeding frenzy.
I'd felt bad for her at the time. Now, knowing her, I despised the press even more. "That must have been hell," I added. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"So am I," she said. "But I survived it. It wasn't easy and it wasn't fun, but in the end I think it made me stronger. It sounds cliched, but I really mean it. And one absolutely good thing came out of it."
"What's that?"
"Damien, of course. We came through it, and we came through it together. And when we did, we proved to the world what we already knew."
"What's that?"
"We fit each other." She shrugged. "Simple, but true." She smiled then, broad and happy. "I look at you and Cole and that's what I see. Am I right?"
I glanced across the gallery to where he stood with Damien, two gorgeous men who outshone all of the art that hung around them. "Yeah," I said. "I think we do fit." And I could only hope that Cole thought so, too.
nineteen
"You're sure you don't want a night on the town?" Cole asked as we stood in front of the Beverly Wilshire hotel and watched Damien's driver, Edward, pull the limo back into traffic. "Los Angel
es. A limo. That's a lot of potential to pass up."
"The only potential I want is you," I said. "In our room. Preferably without clothes."
He grinned. "Well, when you put it that way . . ." He took my arm and led me inside the hotel that, though I'd never been in it before, seemed so familiar from all the times I'd watched and rewatched Pretty Woman as a teen. At the time, I'd been more interested in the musical shopping montage than in the romance plot. But I did remember that in the end, Vivian had gotten both the clothes and the man, though there'd been a few moments when it had looked like he and his issues were going to blow it for them.
I looked at the man on my arm, and couldn't help but smile. I hadn't seen it coming, but I couldn't deny that I wanted the fairy-tale ending, too. And I was going to do whatever it took to make that happen.
"What?" Cole asked, catching me eyeing him.
"Just thinking about this hotel," I said, as we moved through the exquisitely appointed lobby to the bank of elevators. "A lot of celebrities come through here. Some pretty hot men, too."
His brows rose ever so slightly. "Planning to snare yourself a movie star?"
"Hardly." I linked my arm through his. "I was just thinking that the man on my arm is so much hotter."
"Funny," he said, pulling me to a stop and kissing me fast and hard and deep. "I was thinking the same thing about the woman on mine."
We'd registered before having Edward drive us to Malibu for dinner, so now we headed straight to our room on the eighth floor.
"You still haven't asked me what we're doing here," Cole said as the elevator opened onto our floor. "About what the plan is for your dad."
"No," I said lightly, as I walked a few steps in front of him. "I haven't."
He caught up with me at the door, then stilled my hand before I could put the key in. "Katrina."
"I'm just playing by your rules," I said. "I seem to recall you were very insistent on getting that point across to me in the ladies' room of The Drake. Or was I mistaken?"
He shook his head, obviously amused, then took the key from my hand. "Not mistaken."
"Good."
He opened the door for me, then followed me over the threshold. As soon as the door closed behind him, I eased up against him and started to unbutton the pale blue shirt he'd paired with faded jeans. "The truth is, I'm really hoping that being a good girl is going to be even more rewarding than being punished was." I lifted myself up on my tiptoes and nipped at his earlobe. "Otherwise, why not just be bad?"