Heaven and Hell (8 page)

“Your scent does not precede you, it also
doesn’t define you. Any scent you wear is a discovery.”

This made no sense to me so I asked, “A
discovery?”

She smiled a small, very cool smile and said
softly, “Yes, Kia, a discovery. The kind of discovery your partner,
if he is very fortunate, makes when his nose
encounters
the
flesh the scent adorns.” At her imparting this nugget of wisdom, a
nugget I not only processed in my brain but three other parts of my
body besides, I made not a peep and stared at her so she went on,
“A touch behind the ears, at the wrists, behind the knees and at
the cleavage…
a touch,
half a spray if it is spray or just a
dab if it is not.”

My mind became consumed with Sam’s nose
being in
any
of those places so it took Celeste’s rich,
cultured laughter to snap me out of it.

I did the half the spray route for that was
all that was available to me.

Then I pulled on my dress. It was white, one
shoulder bare, it fit like it was made for me down my torso to the
very tops of my thighs then it dropped into a full skirt to my
ankles, the clingy, silk jersey hanging and moving beautifully
around my legs but, the best part, it had a deep slit just to one
side and up to the upper thigh that exposed my legs in an awesome
way when I moved and, better, the inside hem was embroidered
intricately and subtly with gold thread.

Told you it was awesome.

I strapped on my shoes and Celeste pulled a
pristine white evening clutch with a gold clasp out of her bag and
tossed it on the bed beside me. Then she lifted my right hand and
slid a dozen very slim gold bangles on my wrist. Then she handed me
a pair of tiered gold earrings sprinkled with tiny pearls.

After I put them in my ears, her hand came
out, she gently touched my earlobe with the tip of her finger, my
head went back, my eyes went to her and she spoke softly.

“Nothing at your neck, your lovely
collarbone is enough. A touch, only a hint, of everything. An
intriguing woman does not share her secrets in
any
way. She
does not speak of them, she does not give them away through her
manner and she
definitely
does not make the mistake of
giving them away through her appearance.”

Well, if that was the case, blurting the
information about Cooter being murdered within a few minutes of
knowing Sam was an even bigger mistake than I thought it was and I
already thought it was a doozie.

I did not share this with Celeste. Instead,
I looked into her unusual eyes, eyes the like I’d never seen, a
light brown with hints of blue, her perfect skin touched with sun
but not brown, leathery and wrinkled, her dark hair that was worn
casually in a stylish cut that suited her heart-shaped face and I
informed her quietly, “Sam doesn’t like playing games. I’ve been
around him twice and he’s already made that pretty clear.”

To this, Celeste’s already warm, kind eyes
got warmer and kinder. They also grew knowing and she reached out
and took my hand, holding it in both of hers between us.

Then she spoke gently, “My darling Kia,
behind your eyes you hold secrets, more than any woman I’ve ever
seen. For any woman, but I suspect for you especially, a man must
prove he deserves the honor of you sharing those secrets. No woman
should ever make the mistake of sharing any of her secrets with a
man who does not prove he deserves to have them. I think,
ma
chérie,
” her hand squeezed mine and her voice dropped lower,
“you have already learned this.”

Her words affected me so deeply I felt my
eyes fill with tears and I was speechless, staring up at her and
holding her hand tightly.

Because she was right. She was
so
right and at that moment I wished I knew her ten years ago, before
I gave all my secrets away to Cooter.

“Make him work to unlock your secrets, my
Kia,” she whispered. “Do not accept another man in your life who
does not rise to that challenge and do it gallantly.”

Wow, she got me. She totally got me. She
knew, I had no idea how, but she knew.

And she understood.

And in that moment, I fell in love with
Celeste Masterson.

I also nodded.

She bent toward me and kept advising. “I
caution you to understand, at the same time I tell you this,
whatever you’ve been doing has brought you to this moment. So
be
yourself, just don’t
give
yourself unless you’re
certain he deserves that gift. Do you understand me,
ma
chérie?
”

I nodded again even though I kind of
didn’t.

She smiled, squeezed my hand in hers and
straightened, letting me go.

“He’s due in twenty minutes. We’ll share
another glass of champagne to help you relax,” she announced. “I’ll
pour while you sort your evening bag.”

I nodded again. She moved to the champagne.
I twisted on the bed and started sorting my evening bag. She came
back with the champagne flute and I stood, taking it from her.

Then I whispered, “Today, everything, the
manicure, the girls, my jewelry, I don’t…” I hesitated then forged
on. “Thank you.”

She smiled and tipped her head slightly to
the side.

Then she whispered back, “You cannot know,
ma chérie,
but some other time I will explain why, but being
with you today, it has been my
deep
pleasure.”

I held her eyes, concerned at her words but
sensing she needed me to let them go for now. So I did.

Instead, I lifted my flute, she lifted hers
and we smiled at each other while we clinked.

Five minutes before Sam was due, after a
long, close, warm hug, Celeste left.

And when she left, I felt certain I could do
this.

That was fifteen minutes ago and, without
Celeste, I was a wreck. First I was a wreck because the time was
nigh. Then I was a wreck because the time was slightly past nigh.
And now I was a wreck because he was ten minutes late and that was
getting to the point of well past nigh.

I was stopping myself from spraying on more
perfume just for something to do, I had just refreshed my lip gloss
from the tube the makeup girl left me and I was looking in the
mirror not seeing me.

I was thinking that life had somehow brought
me to this pass and, without Celeste with me, I forgot how to
pretend that this was me. Instead, I remembered who I was and felt
through to my bones that I was an imposter.

And maybe, as the seconds ticked by making
ten minutes eleven, Sampson Cooper had figured that out.

I moved from the mirror to the window and
stared at the view, forcing my mind to Celeste and the fact that I
had not paid one penny for any of the things she’d arranged that
day (except, of course, my shoes) and making a mental note to phone
her as soon as possible the next day to talk to her about paying
her back when there was a knock on the door.

My head snapped to the door.

Holy cow, he’d showed.

Holy cow,
he was out there.

Holy cow, I was going out on a date with
Sampson Cooper!

Shit!

Okay, now I didn’t want him to be out there,
I didn’t want to do this because I didn’t want him to find out I
actually
was
an imposter.

Shit!

I stared at the door. Then I realized I had
to go open it.

Shit.

I moved across the room, deep breathing,
and, since there was no peephole in the door, I set the chain (you
couldn’t be too careful and you should never be stupid, I’d learned
that the hard way), opened it and looked out.

It was Sam.

“Hey,” I said swiftly then shut the door,
quickly slid off the chain and opened it. “Sorry, have to be
safe.”

He didn’t answer and I didn’t notice. I was
a flurry of nervous energy.

Therefore, I turned from him and strode
across the room so fast my skirt flew out behind me, stating, “I’m
ready. Just need to grab my bag.”

I bent to the bed, picked up my bag, shoving
in the lip gloss I noticed had rolled out and clasping the gold
clasp before straightening at the same time I turned.

And when I turned, my shoulder and arm
brushed something very hard and very solid.

My head tipped back to see Sam in my room,
right there as in
right there.

I froze.

Sam did not.

One of his arms slid along my waist and
pulled in and it kept doing that until our hips and bellies were
brushing. Once he accomplished this and as I was focusing all my
energies on not panting and having difficulty with this endeavor
considering my brain was focusing all
its
energies on the
exquisite feeling of my belly and hips brushing Sam’s, his hand
came up, fingers curling around my neck, thumb out and sweeping my
jaw.

His head was tipped down, his eyes on me.
They were warm, like I’d noticed several times before. They were
also intent, again like I’d noticed before. But they were something
else, something that made my stomach pitch, my nipples tingle and
heat rush to my cheeks.

Oh my God. I was in danger of either passing
out and/or having an orgasm just from this!

“Hi,” he whispered a rough-like-velvet
whisper on a jaw brush of his thumb and my legs trembled so badly,
my hands automatically lifted to hold onto his also very hard and
very solid biceps to stop myself from going down.

“Hi,” I whispered back.

“Sorry I’m late,” he kept whispering, his
thumb kept stroking and my legs kept trembling.

“That’s okay.” I also was still
whispering.

His eyes moved down to my mouth, my neck,
down to my chest then up, slow and lazy and he didn’t release me
and his thumb never quit moving. This meant my legs never quit
trembling, my stomach pitched again and I felt another tingle, this
one lower and way,
way
better.

Then he murmured, “Fool.”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “Sorry?”

Sam didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Baby,
I don’t know what you’re like in bed but if it’s even half the
promise of you, your man was a fucking fool.”

My fingers clutched his biceps, the ones
still holding my bag digging painfully into the clasp and I felt my
lips part.

Holy cow, did he just say that?

Holy cow!
Did he just say that?

“Did you just say that?”

Yes, that was what came out of my mouth and
it was both lucky and unfortunate it did because it broke the spell
and I didn’t want the spell broken but also, if I was going to keep
my secrets and all my gifts, the spell had to be broken or I was in
imminent danger of jumping his bones and I suspected doing
something like that would give it all away and Celeste would be
disappointed.

I didn’t want to disappoint Celeste. But I
also knew she was far from stupid, she got me and, even if this was
Sampson Cooper and I was Kia Clementine, every word of advice she
gave me was one hundred percent right so I had to follow it.

To the letter.

The spell was broken when his lips twitched,
his thumb stopped moving but his fingers at the side of my neck
gave a gentle squeeze before he answered, “Yeah, I just said
that.”

“Okey dokey,” I muttered and his lip twitch
became a grin. Then, for sanity’s sake and so I wouldn’t fall back
and give into the urge of ripping his clothes off, I asked, “Are we
going to stand here all night or are you going to take me somewhere
I can show off my dress?”

To that, he replied, “We stand her much
longer, we won’t be standing so yeah, I’m gonna take you somewhere
you can show off that fuckin’ gorgeous dress.”

Before I could fully react to what his words
implied or his compliment, he let me go, grabbed my hand and pulled
me to the door. He stopped us in the hall so he could test the
handle to make certain it locked upon catching then he pulled me
down the hall.

It was then I finally noticed what he was
wearing.

He was in a tuxedo which looked good on him
and fit well. I was no expert but it fit him so well, I figured it
had to be made for him. And I’d had my hands on his jacket, the
material was not anything the like I’d ever touched before. It was
nicer in a way I couldn’t describe but definitely nicer and I knew
it had to be expensive.

The cool part was, he was wearing a black
shirt, no tie at all, the shirt opened at his throat.

Still, even without that accoutrement, the
suit and shirt were so well made, he wore them with a natural
confidence that was magnetic; they seemed more formal than if he
had on a white shirt and bowtie.

I couldn’t say in my past two times with him
that I’d noticed his clothes at all. I also couldn’t say I’d spent
much time the years I obsessed and fantasized about him I’d noticed
them either. I was too busy noticing the beautiful male perfection
of his features, the even more beautiful male perfection of his
smile and the rough-like-velvet beauty of his voice.

But striding beside him with my hand
engulfed in his big, strong one, I noticed that, even as a tall,
very built man the like who could seem ungainly due to their size,
he totally rocked his clothes in a way that was super cool because
he didn’t look like he was trying to rock his clothes. In fact,
even wearing a tuxedo, he didn’t look like he cared at all.

And more, he had a masculine grace when he
moved that probably had to do with him being an athlete and highly
trained and skilled soldier. But even with these things, this was a
surprise, men of his build, again, often seemed lumbering.

Not Sam.

And let me just tell you, it was
hot.

All of it.

While Sam guided me down the hall and
stairs, he didn’t speak. What I noticed he did do was walk slowly.
A man his height with legs as long as his definitely could take
twice the amount of ground with each stride than he was taking and
I knew he was doing this for me, my shorter legs and my feet
wearing delicate, high-heeled sandals.