Stella in Stilettos (20 page)

Her subconscious poked her.
It’s a dream, Stella
.

Stella bolted upright. She wasn’t working behind the counter at her favorite coffee shop. She was in bed…naked…with an olive and gold colored comforter tucked around her.

The memory of what took place in that bed the night before came rushing back and produced a myriad of emotions. She didn’t know whether to sigh with contentment or blush with embarrassment.
What a night!

When she yawned and stretched, the satiny fabric of the comforter brushed across her nipples, a giant dose of reality.

She yielded to a moment of panic. With lightning speed she was out of bed and into the rumpled pink cocktail dress, which felt a little strange to be wearing at eight-thirty in the morning. She went in search of the scant piece of material that was seriously a poor excuse for underwear.

Alex’s shirt, trousers and socks lay in a heap at the end of the bed. With her foot, she moved the clothing around in hopes of finding the lacy thong. She dropped to her knees and peeked under the bed. No thong.

The smell of coffee brewing permeated the closed door. Stella’s mouth watered. But she was not leaving the room without her underwear. Absolutely no way. She made the mistake of looking in the mirror.

Gone was the much-fussed-over hair and meticulous makeup from the evening before. In its place was a severe case of bed-head and smudges of mascara were plastered beneath each eye. “Egad.”

Stella opened the first of two doors. The first door led to a walk-in closet filled with all kinds of man stuff. The second door produced a bathroom.
Thank the Lord!

In a flash she shimmied out of the bedraggled dress and stepped into a shower and tub combo big enough for four people; a quick reminder that Steve, Trish and Alex were just beyond the bedroom door.

What would they think? Actually, what were they all thinking when they agreed to stay the night? They’d had too much to drink, so the cab had been a good choice, but it could’ve taken them home just as easily as it had taken them to Alex’s. Although, she was keenly aware it had been a premeditated plan concocted by the guys to get their half-drunken floozies into the sack. To their credit, the plan went off without a hitch.

Stella sat down on the shower seat and let the hot water pour over her. Where had
her
plan gone? The one where she looked like a million bucks and made Alex eat his heart out? It’d been a foolish undertaking, destined to fail from the moment of inception since it was hard to get-even with someone you were head over heels for.

What now? Plaster a smile on her face, thank him for a great evening and move to Des Moines?

“Stella. Where are you?” Trish stumbled into the bathroom dressed in Steve’s once-crisp white shirt, the bulk of her long, auburn hair pulled high into a pony tail. She slid open the shower door.

Stella threw her hands over her breasts. “Do you mind? I can see you through the door and I can hear you too.”

“I come bearing gifts.” Trish held out one of two mega-size cups of coffee. “Alex is making breakfast, so hurry up.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. “Close the door you little voyeur.”

“You have to eat something to soak up all the alcohol from last night.” Trish put her hand to her forehead. “We got hammered.”

Stella winced. “Yeah. No kidding.”

Trish’s mouth became a giant O. “Ruh-roh. I do believe you have a…hickey.”

Stella’s hands flew to her neck. “Tell me you’re yanking my chain.”

“I wish I could.” Trish grinned over her coffee cup.

Stella cursed under her breath. She hadn’t had a hickey since ninth grade when Charlie Stone thought it would be fun to mark his territory. “Argh!”

“Relax. A little makeup and no one will ever see it.”

“Really?” she asked hopefully.

Trish roared with laughter. “No. Not really. It’s huge.”

Stella fell into a series of growls.

Trish rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a baby. It’s a hickey, not a tattoo. In a couple of days, it’ll be gone. Finish your shower already. Alex said we can’t eat until you’re at the table.” She closed the shower door.

Stella stopped whimpering. “Do you think you could ask Alex if he has some clothes I could borrow?”

Trish opened the shower door again.

Stella gave her an irked look. “Can’t you talk to me without seeing me naked?”

“Nope.”

Stella retaliated by splashing Trish with water.

“Okay. Okay. Don’t get yourself in a lather.” Trish gave her a toothy grin. “No pun intended.”

“Just ask him.”

“I will, but Alex is six foot something and twice your body width. What do you think he has that would fit you?”

Stella gave her a sharp look.

“I’m on it.”

Even with the shower door and bedroom door closed, Stella could hear Trish laughing all the way down the hall.

She slumped against the shower wall and wished she could be as casual as Trish. It was true. She didn’t need to fret over a little mark on her neck, but it wasn’t so much the mark as how it got there in the first place. Stella covered her face with her hands and tried to deal with the morning-after syndrome clawing its way to the surface.

Stella just stepped from the shower when Alex walked in. The sight of her made his mouth go dry and he wanted to tug the towel from her moist, supple body.

“Good morning,” he said, giving her a big smile and invading the space between them. He cupped her chin and lifted it to bring her eyes to his.

“Morning,” she replied almost shyly.

“I’ve found some things for you to wear. They might be a little big, but you can roll them up.” He handed her a pair of checked pajama pants and white t-shirt. “They might look a little funny with your high heels though.”

Alex inspected her neck. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Stella nervously bit her bottom lip. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to hide it.”

“I am sorry, Stella.” Alex gently pecked the bruise with his lips. It was meant to be a casual gesture but it stirred the cinders of last night’s fire. “I’ll really have to be careful next time.”

The expression on Stella’s face appeared to be a mixture of delight…and caution. She gave him a guarded smile.

“Anyway, there’s a plate of eggs with your name on it, and you better hurry before Steve comes in and drags you to the table.”

“I’ll be right out.”

Alex closed the door behind him. Everything about that woman exhilarated and confused him.

After towel-drying and finger-combing her curls, Stella squeezed a small dab of toothpaste in the palm of her hand.

She opened his medicine cabinet and found a container with cotton balls and cotton swabs. With one of the fuzzy swabs she scrubbed her teeth and tongue, which made her mouth minty-fresh, but furry.

She pulled on the pajama pants and rolled them up three times to keep from stepping on the bottoms. The t-shirt was more of a nightgown, but it was soft and comfy, and smelled like Alex.

Finally, she inspected her neck. She’d put it off hoping that when she looked there would be nothing there. Pipe dream. The bruise was the size of a plum and it was going to take a lot of makeup to cover it.

Stella gulped hard. She was after a well-respected position, but now she had a darned hickey. She tried to calm herself by repeating the same thing Trish did. “It’s temporary.”

She padded to the kitchen in bare feet, took a place at the table and sipped her coffee before meeting Steve’s eyes.

“It’s about time you joined us sleepy head,” Steve teased.

“I would’ve been out sooner but I looked like Einstein’s twin sister.”

Alex laid a plate of eggs in front of Stella and a plate of bacon in the center of the table. “Let’s eat.”

Stella’s stomach growled with approval and she helped herself to a strip of bacon. “You didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

Alex winked. “Sure I did. I hosted a sleep-over so the least I could do is feed you.”

“Is that what this was?”

Steve clicked his tongue. “Tonight. My place.”

“Riggght.” Stella smiled.

Steve took a dramatic bite of toast and proceeded to rib her about the hickey. He wouldn’t let her be self-conscious about it for even a second. When she tilted her head to the side to try to hide it, he threatened to give her one on the other side if she didn’t behave.

After they’d gone through two pots of coffee and some light conversation, it was time to go.

Stella hurried to the bathroom, stepped out of the pajama pants and t-shirt, and back into the pink dress and heels. She searched Alex’s bedroom one more time for her underwear, but came up empty.

In the meantime, Alex called a cab to take them all back to the hall where their vehicles were parked.

Stella strolled reluctantly to the kitchen with the clothes rolled up and tucked under her arm. “I’ll wash these and bring them back.”

Alex tugged them away. “They don’t need washed. You only had them on for a couple of hours.” He brought them to his nose. “Besides, they smell like you.” He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a soft kiss. “Last night was great, Stella.”

“It was,” she admitted. She wanted to say more, but her words were stuck.

She sensed he wanted to say something else too, and wondered if he was struggling with the same thoughts and feelings she was.

Steve hollered from the hallway. “Taxi’s here.”

Alex bent down and visited her mouth again. He gave her a long, drawn-out, soulful kiss. “We’re good together,” he said softly.

Steve barged in. “Come on, guys, the meter is ticking.”

“Stop laughing or I’m hanging up,” Stella spouted, but she couldn’t keep from giggling either.

“That was showing him,” Misty teased.

“I’m clearly no good at vengeance.”

“You’re terrible at it. Who goes to a party to give the guy a dose of regret and ends up in bed with him?”

Stella sighed. “One hundred and thirty pounds of weakness, that’s who.”

Misty’s voice was gentle. “The rapscallion seduced you.”

He did. Aided by alcohol. Although truthfully, she had enough lucidity to stop him if she wanted to. “He’s incredible, Misty.”

“Let’s get a pizza and you can tell me all about him. I also want to see your bruise.” Misty laughed. “Strictly for medical reasons.”

Stella wasn’t sure she wanted to do a tell-all with her sister, although it would probably be good to have someone other than Trish to help her figure things out. Besides, she’d involved Misty with the whole dress bit so it wouldn’t be right to hold out on her. “Come on over. By the way, do you have a turtle-neck sweater I could borrow?”

“You can borrow anything I have, but I thought you had a closet full of sweaters.”

“Had a closet full of sweaters, skirts, dresses and pants. A week ago I condensed my choices by making the thrift store a very happy place. The only things left in my closet are a few suits, two dresses I’m thinking of getting rid of, a half-dozen pair of jeans, a light bulb and probably a few moths.

“Halleluiah,” Misty screeched. “A break through. You’ve had some of those clothes since high school.”

“They still fit.”

“What does it tell you, Stella, when even the moths won’t eat them?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Aren’t you hilarious? Anyway, get your butt over here.” After she hung up, she couldn’t stop grinning. She did have some breakthrough-moments in the last several weeks, and it felt good to part with some of the clothes that weren’t working.

For some reason, parting with things made Mr. Right surface. They hadn’t exactly parted. But they were no longer chummy. Out of curiosity, she checked her email. There were some forwards from Trish, the final Meet and Greet details from RedHairedHoney, and an airline confirmation for the flight to the boat, nothing from the nearly non-existent Mr. Right.

His lack of communication bothered her, yet it didn’t. The only thing that really disturbed her was why he’d lost interest. Did she bore him to tears?

She logged into the chat room to find out.

TorontoTim greeted her. “Hey Blonde1, LTNS.”

“What is LTNS?”

“Long time no see.”

“Ah. Thanks. It has been awhile. Lots of things going on. Getting ready for the holidays, catching up with my sister, shopping.”
And losing my head and heart to love.

“Red says you’re going to Key West with us. Should be a great time.”

“I’m excited, especially since they’re forecasting a ton of snow for Ohio while we’re gone.”

“Mr. Right pops in from time to time and asks if you’ve been in. When we say no, he logs back out.”

“Thanks, Tim.” She didn’t want to be rude so she stayed and talked to Tim for a few minutes.

After logging out, she composed an email to Mr. Right. She told him what she’d been up to – minus the part about Alex, how excited she was to go to Florida and she shared some island tidbits TorontoTim had given her. She was about to send the message and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she deleted the long-winded rubbish. She sighed and sent him a one-line thought – “See you in a week.” Instead of her name, she simply signed it S.