Finding the Dream (Dream Trilogy 3)

Odd, she mused, tracing a hand over it, she didn't feel like a high school student. She felt so much older than her contemporaries. So much wiser, so much more sure of where she was going.

This was the room of her childhood, she thought, of her youth and of her heart. As Templeton House was the home of her heart. Though she knew she would never love any place as much, she was prepared, even eager to build a new home with the man she loved.

At last, she turned and looked at herself in the cheval glass. And smiled. She'd been right about the dress, she decided. Simple, clean lines suited her small frame. The scoop neckline, the long, tapered sleeves, the straight column that skimmed down to flirt with her ankles—the effect was classic, dignified, and perfect for a woman who met Peter Ridgeway's standards.

She might have preferred that her hair be straight and flowing, but since it insisted on curling frivolously, she'd swept it up. It added maturity, she thought.

She would never be bold and sexy like Margo, or casually intriguing like Kate. So she would settle for mature and dignified. After all, those were qualities that Peter found appealing.

She so badly wanted to be perfect for him. Tonight—especially tonight.

Reverently she picked up the earrings that had been her parents' birthday gift. The diamonds and sapphires winked flirtatiously back at her. She was smiling at them when her door burst open.

"I am not putting that crap all over my face." Flushed and flustered, Kate continued her argument with Margo as both of them strode inside. "You have enough on yours for both of us."

"You said Laura would be the judge," Margo reminded her, then stopped. With an expert's eye she studied her friend. "You look fabulous. Dignified sex."

"Really? Are you sure?'' The idea of being sexy was so thrilling, Laura turned back to the mirror. All she saw was herself, a small young woman with anxious gray eyes and hair that wouldn't quite stay in place.

"Absolutely. Every guy at the party is going to want you, and be afraid to ask."

Kate snorted and plopped onto Laura's bed. "They won't be afraid to ask you, pal. You're a prime example of truth in advertising."

Margo merely smirked and ran a hand over her hip. The lipstick-red dress dipped teasingly low at the bodice and clung to every generous curve. "If you've got it—which you don't—flaunt it. Which is why you need the blusher, the eye shadow, the mascara, the—"

"Oh, Christ."

"She looks lovely, Margo." Always the peacemaker, Laura stepped between them. She smiled at Kate, spread out on the bed, her angular frame intriguing in thin white wool that covered her from throat to ankle. "Like a wood nymph." She laughed when Kate groaned. "But you could use a little more color."

"See?" Triumphant, Margo whipped out her makeup bag. "Sit up and let a master do her work."

"I was counting on you." Complaining all the way, Kate suffered the indignity of Margo's brushes and tubes. "I'm only doing this because it's your birthday."

"And I appreciate it."

"It's going to be a clear night." Margo busily defined Kate's cheekbones. "The band's already setting up, and the kitchen's in chaos. Mum's rushing around fussing with the floral arrangements as though it's a royal reception."

"I should go help," Laura began.

"You're the guest of honor." Kate kept her eyes closed in self-defense as Margo dusted shadow on her lids. "Aunt Susie has everything under control—including Uncle Tommy. He's outside playing the sax."

Laughing, Laura sat on the bed beside Kate. "He always said his secret fantasy was to play tenor sax in some smoky club."

"He'd have played for a while," Margo said as she carefully smudged liner under Kate's big doe eyes. "Then the Templeton would have come out, and he'd have bought the club."

"Ladies." Josh loitered in the doorway, a small florist's box in his hands. "I don't mean to interrupt a female ritual, but as everyone's slightly insane, I'm playing delivery boy."

The way he looked in his tux shot heat straight through Margo's loins. She sent him a sultry look. "What's your usual tip?"

"Never draw to an inside straight." He struggled not to let his gaze dip to her cleavage and cursed every man who would be offered a glimpse of those milky white curves. "Looks like more flowers for the birthday girl."

"Thanks." Laura rose to take the box, and kissed him. "That's my tip."

"You look wonderful." He caught her hand. "Grown up. I'm starting to miss my annoying little sister."

"I'll do my best to annoy you, as often as possible." She opened the box, sighed, and forgot everything else. "From Peter," she murmured.

Josh set his teeth. It wouldn't be fair to say that she was already annoying him in her choice of men. "Some guys think single roses are classy."