“Yes,” Mia said, throwing a quick frown at Amanda. “We were sort of swept off our feet.”
“And now she’s almost set to do even more sweeping,” Amanda interrupted. “When Dave gets a look at her, it’s going to blow him away.”
“Hmm…” Piper glanced into the mirror at her own reflection. “Maybe I could use a makeover myself.”
“Any particular reason why?” Mia asked.
Piper shrugged and shook her head. “It’s just, the work I do, the men I work with all look at me like ‘one of the guys.’ I think even Ryan Grant—my best friend, mind you—forgets I’m a woman most of the time.”
Mia could understand that. She’d been ignored or overlooked for most of her life. At least Piper had her coworkers’ respect. She wasn’t invisible. But now, after experiencing the past few hours, Mia knew what the Saint Tropez salon and day spa could do for Piper.
“We could fix that,” Amanda said in a tempting, singsongy voice. “Just let me know when you’re ready and we’ll have you buffed and polished and I would love to get you out of those sweatshirts you wear.”
Piper laughed and stepped behind Mia as if to use her as a shield. “Down girl,” she said, still laughing. “You’ve already got your ‘project,’ so stay away.”
“Fine, fine,” Amanda said. “But you’ll be sorry. Mia is going to be the talk of the town when I’m finished with her. You just wait and see.”
“Oh, man…” Mia murmured, as nerves rose up inside her again. The talk of the town? She didn’t know if she’d be able to handle that.
“Yep,” Piper whispered. “You’re toast now. Once Amanda gets going, nobody can slow her down. Good luck!”
Amanda took Mia’s hand and dragged her from the room, already talking about what they would be buying at Monica’s. Mia threw one last look back at Piper and was not reassured to see the other woman laughing.
Six
Mia sipped her glass of sauvignon blanc and willed the wine to soothe the nerves jittering in the pit of her stomach. Apparently, though, it was going to take a lot more than a sip or two.
She had a seat at the bar in the lounge at Claire’s restaurant. The bar was as elegant as the restaurant itself. Small, round tables, candles flickering in the center of each of them. The polished mahogany bar shone under the soft glow of overhead lighting. Smooth jazz sighed from speakers tucked against the ceiling, and a long mirror backed the bar itself, reflecting the patrons seated in the room. Some, like Mia, were waiting to meet their parties and have dinner. Some were there for a quiet drink with friends.
She gave her own reflection a wry smile and still hardly recognized herself. In the deep scarlet, long-sleeved silk blouse and black slacks, she was out of her comfort zone and into foreign territory. It wasn’t just the new clothes or the hair, or even the makeup she’d taken the trouble to apply, though. It was the whole situation. The subterfuge. The lies that would dominate her life for the next month.
And, she was forced to admit, if only to herself, that being around Dave constantly wasn’t going to be easy, either. He was too gorgeous. Too sure of himself and far too touchable.
In just a couple of days, her life had been turned upside down. Now, instead of being curled up in her suite at Alex’s house, watching TV, she was here, wearing silk, drinking wine and fighting the urge to bolt.
Being in the bar wasn’t helping the situation any, either. She felt out of place, alone on her barstool. She’d never been comfortable in places like this, despite the elegance. Mia had spent too much of her childhood in the back rooms or kitchens of bars and restaurants and casinos. The clink of glasses, the murmured conversations and the smell of alcohol awakened a memory, and for just a moment or two, she was ten years old again.
The back room of the bar was small and so well lit Mia didn’t need the pocket flashlight she always carried so she could read wherever she happened to be. Tonight, she sat in a corner, a glass of root beer at her side, and tried to concentrate on the magical world of Narnia.
But the poker game going on across the room from her made it really hard. Men argued and grumbled and the laughter from the women sounded sharp and brittle.
She looked around the group of men and caught her father’s eye. He winked at her and Mia smiled. This was just one more poker game in a never-ending chain of them. This bar was in St. Louis, but winter was coming and her father had promised they were headed West after he got a stake from tonight’s game. Vegas, he’d said. With maybe a side trip to California and Disneyland.