Not just any red. A dark, rich russet. The color looks absolutely stunning on her. It sets off her pearlescent skin. It frames eyes that now look so intensely blue I wonder if I could drown in them. The words running through my head are awfully fucking poetic, especially since my tongue is utterly tied over this woman.
She. Is. Beyond. Beautiful.
“It’s actually my natural color. Do you hate it?”
“No,” I breathe. I feel a lot of things, especially below my belt buckle, but hate isn’t on the list.
“Good.” She smiles uncomfortably as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other and bites her lip. “So…”
“You look amazing.” I’m finally able to pull my head out of my ass long enough to set her at ease.
She gives me a blinding smile. “Whew! If you didn’t like it, my spa adventure would be a huge waste of time and money.”
“Not at all.” I hold out my hand to her. A jolt that feels a lot like the first time we touched—but stronger—races through my body. “Not even a little. Wow. I can’t stop staring at you.”
A flush crawls up her skin. She looks away, but not before I can see how much my compliments have pleased her.
The spa has done an amazing job of bringing out her natural beauty. The best part is that she looks put together without looking made-up. I believe she could be a corporate powerhouse, but no one would ever mistake her for anything less than a woman. Even the way the technicians applied her cosmetics is subtle and perfectly suited to her skin.
The receptionist barges into our moment by handing Keeley a sizable, sturdy bag. “Here are your purchases, Ms. Kent.”
“Thanks.” Keeley looks grateful for something to focus on beside me eating her up with my stare. Then she risks a glance my way. “If I have to recreate this look, I need the things in this bag. A shampoo that will keep my color vibrant. A moisturizer…” She pulls it out and holds it up. “This will help my new foundation lay flawlessly on my skin.” She withdraws the little bottle of liquid pigment, too. “And I don’t have any eye shadows or blushes like this in my makeup case, so—”
“Whatever you need,” I assure her to stop the explanation she seems awkwardly compelled to give.
She relaxes. “Good. Thanks.”
I nod. “How do you feel? Do you like it?”
“I’m not used to the clothes yet, but the hair, the makeup? Yeah. I feel like…me. I’ve only been pink for the last three months. I was platinum before that. I like to try different looks, but I always come back to red.”
It’s still impossible for me to take my eyes off her as I hold out my hand again. Something weird happens when she slips her palm in mine. It’s as if her grip has squeezed around my heart, which is now beating like a tribal drum at a luau. I can barely breathe as I pull her close. My ability to speak evaporates once more.
“Are we going?” She blinks in question.
Yeah. Leaving now. “Dinner out?”
“Please. Believe it or not, being poked, plucked, prodded, and primped is really exhausting, so if I don’t have to cook—”
“Not a problem.” In fact, I love the idea of going out and showing Keeley off and keeping her close so that every other guy fucks off because it’s obvious she’s mine.
Except she isn’t. Soon, I’ll have to dangle her in Griff’s face like a tasty treat.
I’m not thinking about that tonight. Nope. Not happening. Right now, I’m just going to enjoy my time with Keeley after the nearly thirty-six hours we spent apart. Yeah, I was counting.
After a little discussion, we wind up at Pacific’O, a romantic spot for seafood and sunsets. Dinner and wine are nice. Watching her turn every male head is gratifying. Her company is the best part of it all, though. She looks vivacious, like she’s very comfortable in this skin. She has a renewed sense of self.
Or maybe I’m finally seeing her as she actually is.
I ponder that thought as the waiter sets down our check.
“Hey,” she murmurs. “Do you have an early morning tomorrow?”
“Not any more than any other day. What do you have in mind?” I feel the smirk cross my face. I can’t help it. I have a whole lot of ideas filling my head. I wonder if she’d say yes to any of them…
She glances at her phone. “I know it’s already after nine, but I was wondering if we could do one more thing before heading home.”
“Like?” Keeley already turned down dessert, so I can’t imagine what she wants.
“There’s this little pub around the corner that has karaoke on Wednesdays and Sundays. I’ve missed singing. It’s soothing.”
My knee-jerk reaction is a big hell no. I pause as I realize that she didn’t ask me to sing. That’s key. I don’t understand her assertion that warbling in front of a bunch of strangers is anything but an exercise in trying not to nervous puke. But she seems really excited. How am I supposed to say no?
“As long as you promise not to drag me on stage…”
“Totally. I just need to belt out a song or two.”
I’d love to hear her sing again. “Do I get to pick the songs?”
“When we get there, you can look at the choices and make suggestions. I’ll see if I can manage any of them. Deal?”
“Deal.” This could be fun.
When we get there, it’s dark and loud and a little crowded. We spot a couple leaving in the back and grab their high-top table and chairs. As soon as we’re situated, someone passes us the big binder full of songs. I hope Keeley gets to sing soon because some drunk tourist in platforms trying to be Beyoncé is already giving me a headache.
Keeley passes the thick tome of song selections my way. I riffle through absently as the waitress takes our drink order.
“Anything catch your eye?”
I grin. “‘Like a Virgin’?”
She gives me an adamant shake of her head. “Absolutely not.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“First, it’s really one of the dumbest songs ever, in my opinion. Second, I’m not in the habit of lying. But most of all, c’mon. How about a challenge?”
Point taken. “How about…‘Buttons.’ Who doesn’t like the Pussycat Dolls?”
Mostly I just want to hear her sing suggestive lyrics to me.