One with You (Page 113)
Staring at him, I couldn’t find the words to say anything.
My silence turned his smile into a wicked grin. “When we get home, I’m going to f**k you while you’re wearing diamonds and nothing else.”
The erotic image that popped into my mind sent a shiver through me.
Catching my shoulders, he turned me around and swatted my a*s. “You look sensational. From every angle. Now, stop distracting me and let me get ready.”
I grabbed my sparkly heels off the shoe rack and left the closet, more dazzled by my husband than by the jewels he’d given me.
“You look like a million dollars.” Cary pulled back from my hug and checked me out. “Actually, I think you’re wearing a million dollars. Jesus. I was so blinded by your bling I almost missed that you’d let your girls come out and play.”
“That’s Gideon’s point,” I said dryly, giving a turn to set the skirt of my gown drifting around my legs. “You, of course, are gorgeous.”
He gave me his famous bad-boy grin. “I know.”
I had to laugh. I thought most men looked good in a tuxedo. Cary, however, looked amazing. Very dapper. Like a Rock Hudson or Cary Grant. The combination of his roguish charm and stunning good looks made him irresistible. He’d put on a little weight. Not enough to change his clothing size, but enough to fill out his face a little more. He looked good and healthy, which was rarer than it should be.
Gideon, on the other hand, was more … 007. Lethally sexy, with a refined edge of danger. He entered the living room and I could only stare helplessly, riveted by the graceful elegance of his chiseled body, that easy commanding stride which hinted at how amazing he was in bed.
Mine. All mine.
“I put Lucky in his crate,” he said, joining us. “We ready?”
Cary gave a decisive nod. “Let’s hit it.”
We took the elevator down to the garage, where Angus waited with the limo. I climbed in first and chose the long bench, knowing Cary would sit beside me while Gideon took his usual seat in the back.
I’d had so little time with Cary lately. Fashion Week had kept him super busy, and since I was spending the nights at the penthouse, we didn’t even have a chance for quick chats in the evening or coffee in the morning.
Cary looked at Gideon and gestured at the bar before we rolled out. “You mind?”
“Either of you want something?”
I considered. “Kingsman and cranberry, please.”
Gideon shot me a warm look. “I’ll have the same.”
Cary poured and served, then sat back with a beer and took a deep pull straight out of the bottle. “So,” he began, “I’m flying to London next week for a shoot.”
“Really?” I sat forward. “That’s wonderful, Cary! Your first international job.”
“Yeah.” He smiled into his beer, then looked at me. “I’m stoked.”
“Wow. Everything has happened so fast for you.” A few months ago we’d still been living in San Diego. “You’re going to take the world by storm.”
I managed a smile. I was truly, genuinely happy for my best friend. But I could picture a time, in the not-so-distant future, when we’d both be so busy and traveling so often we would rarely see each other. It made my eyes sting to think of it. We were closing a chapter of our lives and I mourned a little for the end, even knowing that the best was yet to come for both of us.
Cary raised his bottle in a silent toast. “That’s the plan.”
His smile grew tight, his eyes hard. “She says she’s dating someone. She moves quick when she sees something she likes, always has.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“No.” He started peeling the label off his beer bottle. “Some dude’s blowing his load where my baby is. I think that’s sick.” He glanced at Gideon. “Can you imagine?”
“No one wants me imagining that,” he answered, in that even tone that screamed danger.
“Right? It’s f****d up. But I can’t stop her and I’m not getting back together with her, so … It is what it is.”
“God.” I reached for his hand and held it. “That’s tough. I’m sorry.”
“We’re being civil to each other,” he said with a shrug. “She’s less of a b***h when she’s getting laid regularly.”
“So you guys are talking a lot?”
“I check in with her every day, make sure she’s got what she needs. Told her I was good for whatever—except my dick, of course.” He heaved out his breath. “It’s depressing. Without sex, we really don’t have anything to say to each other. So we talk about work. We’ve got that in common, at least.”