A Solitary Romance: Book 1 in the Only Love Series (11 page)

"Is he planning to fly to Malaysia?" he asked, incredulous.

"That's the great thing.  We have the chance to facilitate the meeting here.  The Malaysians will be in LA early next week, and one of my connections has an
in
with them.  I should know before Friday if it's going to fly."

"Good work," he said, surprise reflected in his voice and face.

"I thought so," she replied.

He got up to leave.  Katrina watched him as he paused in her doorway and turned slowly.  She shifted her eyes to her computer screen and pretended to read an email.

"Kate," he said and paused, waiting to make eye contact.

She tapped a few keys and took her time giving him her undivided attention. 

"Yes?" she said at last, turning her gaze upon him.

Here comes the apology.

"Your hair is a little tousled."  Robert pointed to his own head and continued, "You may want to do something about that when you get the chance."

She grabbed for the mirror in her purse as soon as he left.  Sure enough, the wind had wreaked havoc with her hair.

Chapter 8
-Finding the Perfect One-

"I don't have a stitch to wear next weekend!" Katrina yelled from her closet to the kitchen, where Kiki waited for her friend to model an outfit.

She ambled into the kitchen wearing what Kiki thought a ghastly ensemble.  The receptionist frowned and shook her head.

"That's because you spend all your money on costume jewelry instead of holding some back for clothing.  That
could
work in your favor if you ever let a man in this apartment and decided to show off your collection for him," the receptionist said with a naughty grin.

"You're terrible, Kiki!"

"Well, it's the truth."

"Actually, I
did
let a man in here recently," she said in a soft tone, averting her gaze.

"You did not!  Who was it?"

"Never mind.  It was nothing.  I shouldn't have said anything."

"Come on, spill it, Girl," her friend insisted, determined to hear the whole story.

"If you must know, Robert LaSalla drove me home after William's party and insisted on coming in for a coffee.  He finished off my saltines and chocolate too."

She thought Kiki's lovely eyes were going to fall right out of her head.

"
And
?"

"And nothing.  He insulted me a few times and left.  The man is insufferable."

Kiki looked Katrina up and down.

"Come on. Let's get out of here and find you something sexy for the Spring Fling!"

The girls hit the mall first, but little tickled Katrina's fancy.  If she was going to invest money in a formal gown, it had to grab her.

A dress covered in red rhinestones caught her eye in a department store. 

"Kiki, take a look at this.  It's not my size, though."

Her friend examined the sleeveless dress with a boat neckline and a deep scoop in the back.  She looked at the tag.

"You can get into this.  Come on, I'll help."

Kiki grabbed the dress and Katrina's hand, dragging her into the fitting room.  The girls found a large stall, and Kate peeled off her jeans and sweater, then pulled on the gown.  She had trouble with the zipper.

"I can't get it to zip," she said, frustrated.

"Turn around.  We'll get you into that dress yet."

Katrina followed her friend's orders.  She became worried when her accomplice kicked off her shoes and rubbed her hands together with vigor.

  "Now just relax," Kiki said. 

Then, in one swift move, she pushed her foot into Katrina's middle back, grabbed the troublesome zipper, and whooshed the dress closed, removing her tiny bare foot just in the nick of time.

"There!"

Stunned, she watched the maneuver from one of the many mirrors in the dressing room.  It happened so fast, she didn't have time to protest.  The fit
was
tight, but the rhinestones provided good camouflage. 

"Hmm, I don't know, Kiki.  It's a bit flashy for me, don't you think?"

"If you've got it, flaunt it, I always say."

"Plus, I don't think James would approve," she added, ignoring her friend's comment.

Kiki lifted an eyebrow.

"Conservative, is he?" the receptionist asked.

"When it comes to me, he is.  Let's keep looking."

"All right, but I'm putting this on hold in case you change your mind.  You could use a little
cha cha cha
in your wardrobe, Girl."

"Why don't we just hit up some thrift shops?" Kate suggested.

"Absolutely not!  If you insist on second hand, we'll visit a consignment store I know of where everything's been altered and repaired properly."

After stopping for a coffee break, they drove to a small establishment on the border of Beverly Hills.  Crystal chandeliers and robin's egg blue wallpaper made the place resemble the showroom of a French atelier instead of a consignment shop.

Katrina drew up just outside the entrance.

"Are you sure I can afford this place?" she asked.

"Listen, truncate your jewelry budget for a month, okay?  I don't want to hear any more about you not having a stitch to wear if you're not willing to spend a little on your clothing."

She nodded and Kiki marched ahead, pushing open the glass doors of the shop.  Her friend had a point.  She took good care of her work attire, but she'd purchased most of her outfits several years ago.

She stood in the doorway and caught her breath.  This store reminded her of a jewel box.  Feminine to the extreme, the shop gloried in pastel pinks and blues mingled with gilt moldings, antique French commodes, and furniture upholstered in velvets the color of sherbet.

She became aware of someone stretching a measuring tape about her waist and jumped.  Kiki snapped her fingers several times in front of her friend.

"Stay with us, Kate.  Irina has agreed to help with your, uh,
our
situation." 

Irina, a tall, thin woman with charcoal hair piled high atop her head, looked to be about sixty years old.  She wore a black dress buttoned to the neck with a small lace collar and a self-belt. Her gaunt frame and the color of her clothes added to the woman's severe appearance.  The matron took a step backwards and looked down her nose at Katrina.  Then she allowed her eyes to rake up and down the girl—more than once. 
She scares me,
the auditor admitted to herself.

"I haf de solution," Irina said, jutting her lower lip beyond a slight frown and lifting her brows over closed eyelids.  The woman bobbed her head in an almost imperceptible series of nods.

"Thank you, Irina," Kiki said with a tone that relayed awe, respect, and subservience.

The merchant glided to the back of the store, and Katrina drew close to her friend to whisper in her ear.

"Is she Russian?"

"I'm not sure, but we're lucky she's willing to take you on.  I've been coming here for years, and I think she's fond of me.  Ugh, I forgot. You have to follow her dress code to even step foot inside, and you're not cutting it today."

She wiggled her pinkie at Katrina's tennis shoes and blue jeans.

"Dis way, please," Irina commanded from the back of the shop.

The owner pointed to a settee and intimated that the Hawaiian should take a seat while she escorted Kate into a spacious dressing room with a lone, large oval mirror.  Displaying the same level of taste as the rest of the store, the area contained the stuff of fairy tales—gilded French chairs, a painted coffee table, and a gorgeous chandelier. 

Katrina's jaw hit the floor when her eye caught Irina's
solution
.  The store owner had already placed her choice for her in the room.  She reached out and touched the chiffon pleated dress.  An exquisite color that could only be described as a shade of shell pink deepened within the many folds of the fabric.  She quickly donned the gown with the help of the older woman and was surprised to find it backless.  A high, double-ruffled neckline in the front gave the piece a conservative character.  There, the garment's edges had been left unfinished and allowed to fray, lending the ruffles a frothy appearance.  The Russian tied a bow at the nape of her neck that secured the gown's halter top and allowed its tails to drape down her customer's back.  The light material felt like butterfly wings grazing her skin.

"Now you look!" Irina commanded with her gruff manner, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders and spinning her to face the mirror.

Kate gasped.  The dress gave her skin a luminescent quality and hugged her curves in all the right places without being too revealing.  Cinched at a matching waistband, the fabric hung in folds like the grooves of a Greek column and pooled at her feet.

"You are a flower," Irina pronounced, gathering Katrina's locks into a knot on top of her head and holding them in place with a crystal studded comb she produced from her pocket. 

Katrina believed her.

The Russian led her to the foyer, where Kiki's eyes grew wide.

"Approve?" Irina asked her regular customer.

The receptionist nodded, then clapped, then broke into an enormous grin.

"That's it, Kate.  You
have
to get that dress."

Later, over lunch, the girls shared a chuckle about Irina.  She'd warned "No jewelry," and advised, "Hair up, nude shoe!"  Kiki sprang for the meal, feeling a little guilty about the exorbitant price her friend paid for the vintage gown.

"So, how did that meeting go with Greir and Robert yesterday?  Morris seemed happy when he left," the receptionist said.

"It went well.  Mike Johnson came through for me, and the honchos from Daud are coming by Tuesday to meet with us.  Well, not
us
, exactly.  I passed on the information you gave me about the Malaysians, giving you the credit, and volunteered to back out and let the men of the office handle everything.  You might want to make yourself scarce around three p.m. that day, too."

"No problem.  I'll cut out early and beat traffic," Kiki said.  She continued, "Who's going to be in on the meeting then?"

"Chuck, Robert, and that guy from mergers and acquisitions with the mustache.  Greir said he appreciated my willingness to adapt to the situation, as if I had a choice."

"No, but at least you brought it up.  You were proactive, and that old duffer will regard you forever with fondness because you suggested it and he didn’t have to."  Kiki smiled at her friend.

* * * * *

She met Barry for lunch Tuesday and figured she'd just stay out late in order to avoid the big pow-wow at the office.  Just as she guessed,  he identified several of her unmarked jewelry pieces, producing old catalogs that documented the items and their makers.   As per their usual procedure, the director ordered two meals, which they shared.  This day, he chose a salad with grilled chicken and a Spanish flair and steak soft tacos.  They skipped dessert but shared tea as he examined the baubles.  Later, they went over the artist's revised sketches.

Katrina surprised the director by producing a list of local fabricators capable of making the special case to house the
ice
display.   Her skills as a researcher came in handy again.  Barry, delighted with her initiative and the time it would save him, promised to start making calls that afternoon regarding the special case.

Their conversation drifted to personal matters, Barry alluding to the difficulty of finding suitable companions in Los Angeles and Katrina mentioning her business background.

"But don't you come into contact with a lot of people?  I mean, in your position, surely you meet many nice girls."

Barry laughed.

"Well, I do a lot of my work on the phone.  I thought an accent was supposed to impress you Americans," he said between chuckles.

"It does, believe me," she confessed.

Barry patted her hand and raised an eyebrow, causing her to giggle.

"I think it might have something to do with your name," she ventured to suggest.  She continued with a gentle tone, "Barry doesn't exactly conjure up a dashing European.  I felt certain you were a much older man when we first talked.  What's your middle name?  Maybe you should try going by that," she suggested.

The director laughed again.

"Bothwell," he admitted after a pause.

"Bothwell!  Barry Bothwell Bronson?  I'm afraid your case is hopeless," she said, throwing her hands in the air.

Barry shot her
The Grin
.

"Violet, I'll have you know that Bothwell is a very important name in Scotland.  We're descended from the Earl of Bothwell.  The third and final husband of Mary Queen of Scots is up somewhere on a limb in our family tree.  He died insane in a prison on the continent, I'm afraid—very sad story," he said, leaning towards her, as if confiding a personal tragedy.

She fought the urge to reach across the desk and tousle his brown wavy locks.  Barry oozed boyish charm.

"Glad to know you're of noble birth, Bothwell," she teased.

"Now, don't go and start calling me that.  Don't want others to know insanity runs in the family, you know."

"All right,
Both
."

The director let the nickname slide.  Katrina checked her watch and realized the coast might be clear at the office.  Curious to know how everything went, she decided to head back to work.

"I'd better be going.  Thank you so much for another lovely lunch, and, of course, for taking the time to look at my jewelry."

"It was my pleasure, Violet."

Barry gave her a hug as the museum's limo pulled up to get her.  She felt a twinge of guilt about not confessing her real name to him but decided to wait for the perfect time.

Before saying goodbye, the director complimented her on her taste in jewelry.  He claimed that what he'd seen of her collection was impressive and added that he hoped to view her entire archive someday.

Kate smiled all the way back to the office.  She felt that Barry was interested in her for more than her opinion on display cases.  More and more, Katrina ignored the business suits in her closet and chose feminine dresses for work.  Maybe that's what attracted the museum director.  Whatever it was, she returned the favor.