Eve could all but feel it crawling over her skin.
Uh-uh, she thought. No way in heaven or hell. She turned, thinking only of escape, and rapped straight into Mavis.
‘His stuff is so frigid.’ Mavis slipped a friendly, restraining arm around Eve’s waist and gazed dreamily into the window.
‘Look, Mavis—’
‘And he’s incredibly creative. I’ve watched him come up with stuff on screen. It’s wild.’
‘Yeah, wild. I’m thinking—’
‘He really understands the inner soul,’ Mavis hurried on. She understood Eve’s inner soul, and knew her friend was ready to bolt. Mavis Freestone, slim as a fairy in her white and gold rompers and three-inch air platforms, tossed back her curling mane of white-streaked black hair, judged her opponent, and grinned. ‘He’s going to make you the most rocking bride in New York.’
‘Mavis.’ Eve narrowed her eyes to forestall another interruption. ‘I just want something that won’t make me feel like an idiot.’
Mavis beamed, the new winged heart tattoo on her biceps fluttering as she lifted a hand to her breast. ‘Dallas, trust me.’
‘No,?
?? Eve said even as Mavis pulled her back to the glide. ‘I mean it, Mavis. I’ll just order something off screen.’
‘Over my dead body,’ Mavis muttered, clumping her way down to the street entrance, dragging Eve behind her. ‘The least you can do is look, talk to him. Give the guy a chance.’ She thrust out her bottom lip, a formidable weapon when painted magenta. ‘Don’t be such a squash, Dallas.’
‘Shit, I’m here, anyway.’
Flushed with success, Mavis bounced to the whining security camera. ‘Mavis Freestone and Eve Dallas, for Leonardo.’
The outer door opened with a grinding clunk. Mavis made a beeline for the old wire-screened elevator. ‘This place is really into retro. I think Leonardo might even stay here after he hits. You know, eccentric artist and all that.’
‘Right.’ Eve closed her eyes and prayed as the elevator bumped its way upward. She was taking the stairs down, absolutely.
‘Now, keep an open mind,’ Mavis ordered, ‘and let Leonardo take care of you. Darling!’ She positively flowed out of the dinky elevator and into a cluttered, colorful space. Eve had to admire her.
‘Mavis, my dove.’
Then Eve was struck dumb. The man with the artist’s name was six-five if he was an inch and built like a maxibus. Huge, rippling biceps mountained out of a sleeveless robe in the eye-searing colors of a Martian sunset. His face was wide as the moon, its copper-toned skin stretched tight as a drumhead over razor-edged cheekbones. He had a small, glinting stone winking beside his flashing grin and eyes like gold coins.
He swirled Mavis into his arms, off her feet, and around in one fast and graceful circle. And he kissed her, long, hard, and in a fashion that warned Eve the two of them had a great deal more going on than a mutual love of fashion and art.
‘Leonardo.’ Beaming like a fool, Mavis ran her gold-tipped fingers through his tight, shoulder-length curls.
‘Babydoll.’
Eve managed not to gag as they cooed at each other, but she did roll her eyes. She was stuck now, without a doubt. Mavis was in love again.
‘The hair, it’s wonderful.’ Leonardo ran loving fingers, the size of soydogs, through Mavis’s streaked mop.
‘I hoped you’d like it. This . . .’ There was a dramatic pause, as though she were about to introduce her award-winning schnauzer. ‘Is Dallas.’
‘Ah yes, the bride. Lovely to meet you, Lieutenant Dallas.’ He kept one arm around Mavis and shot the other out to take Eve’s hand. ‘Mavis has told me so much about you.’
‘Yeah.’ Eve slanted a look toward her friend. ‘She’s been a little light on details on you.’
He laughed, a booming sound that made Eve’s ears ring even as her lips twitched in response. ‘My turtledove can be secretive. Refreshments,’ he stated, then whirled off in a cloud of color and unexpected grace.
‘He’s wonderful, isn’t he?’ Mavis whispered, eyes dancing with love.
‘You’re sleeping with him.’