Secrets of the Lotus. Michelle Garren Flye

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СКАЧАТЬ God, Cindy, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Josie stared at the hot pink, skin-tight creation Cindy had over her arm. “This dinner is for a senator.”

      Cindy sighed and put the dress aside, reaching for another. “Fine. I knew you’d say that, but you’d look fabulous in it. You’ve got just the right coloring.”

      The second dress was red. Josie frowned at the bright color, but she couldn’t find a fault with the cut of the dress, which was simple and almost staid. Still, when she tried it on, she shook her head. “I’m not sure. Doesn’t this make me look kind of too—something?”

      Cindy studied her intently. “I don’t understand it. I thought you looked good in red, but this does nothing for you. I think it actually makes you look a little like a tomato.”

      “A little? It’s the shade of red. It’s just too much.”

      Cindy caught her friend’s glance in the mirror and grinned. “Maybe that’s it. Okay, I’ve got one more in here.” She extracted the final hanger and held it up.

      Josie looked at the shimmery gray fabric with doubt. “I don’t see what makes this one so great.”

      “Trust me. This dress is fabulous. Seriously. Try it on.”

      “I’m not sure about the color, but it’s definitely better than the tomato one.” Josie took the hanger and shook it from side to side. The fabric swung in a flirty way. She smiled. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” She took the dress into the bathroom and slid it on, discovering she liked the way it clung to her thighs, making her feel both sexy and discreet at the same time.

      “I’ve got to hand it to you, Cindy.” Josie twirled in front of the mirror, watching the fold of the fine silky fabric as it bounced out and collapsed back. It felt more like a slip than a dress and the front dipped between her breasts much more than she was normally comfortable with, but it was obviously the kind of dress most women would die to be able to wear. “This dress is perfect.”

      “If you could see yourself right now.” Cindy shook her head.

      “I can.” Josie nodded toward the mirror.

      Cindy waved the remark away. “Nobody ever truly sees themselves. If they did, we’d have no fashion nightmares. What are you going to do with your hair?”

      Josie shrugged. “Pull it back, I guess.”

      “Oh, heavens, don’t do that.” Cindy looked horrified. “God, you’re lucky I’m your best friend. Come here.”

      For the next twenty minutes, long enough for Josie to get antsy, Cindy crimped and curled Josie’s hair. She complained about Josie’s refusal to highlight her sandy color with blond streaks and cursed Josie’s cheap blow dryer for singeing her hair in the wrong places.

      “There’s a right place to singe your hair?” Josie had to admit she’d never considered such a thing.

      “Only if you really know what you’re doing.” Cindy drew the hairbrush through the thick curls a final time. “Okay, you’re done.” She turned Josie to the mirror.

      Josie had to admit her friend had been right. The effect of the soft curls around her face and falling over her shoulders was stunning, even if it had taken much longer than her own idea of a French twist.

      A knock on the door made her jump. Cindy laughed. “Why on earth are you so nervous, darling? He’s just a man. And tonight he’s your man.”

      “I’m nervous because you’re making me wear three-inch heels.” Josie knew she sounded irritated. “I’ll be lucky if I can walk.”

      “He’s six-foot-two.” Cindy gestured with the hairdryer. “Even with the heels, you’re only five-seven. You need that extra height or you’ll be talking to his navel all evening. And what if he decides to kiss you? You can’t make him work too hard for it.”

      Josie rolled her eyes and hurried to the door as fast as her heels would allow. It would, she suspected, be Alan, waiting to escort her down to the waiting limousine. But she was wrong. When she opened the door, Dan himself was waiting for her, a single red rose in his hand.

      “Um…you’re early.”

      “Wow.” He grinned, looking her over with appreciation.

      “Ooh, he is charming.” Cindy stepped out of the bathroom, the hairdryer still in her hand.

      “Always happy to please a beautiful lady.” Dan smiled in Cindy’s direction before turning back to Josie.

      “She’s beautiful and only marginally crazy.” Josie sniffed her rose. “Death to two-inch heels and inefficient hair dryers, but otherwise pretty harmless. Dan, I’d like you to meet Cindy Rodgers, fashionista extraordinaire for New York Life.”

      Dan smiled. “Do I have you to thank for this?” He indicated Josie.

      “I only helped reveal what was already there.” Cindy shrugged, and they both turned to admire Josie.

      “I particularly like her hair like that.” Dan nodded at Josie's new waves.

      Cindy sparkled. “Totally my idea! She would have put it in a French twist, of all things.”

      Dan shook his head. “Ridiculous.”

      “If you two don’t stop it, I’m going to go put on jeans and go to this shindig comfortable.” Josie pretended to turn to the bedroom.

      “God forbid!” Cindy shrieked. “Get her out of here before she does any damage!” She pushed Dan out the door, Josie in tow. Josie tossed the rose Dan had given her over her head and Cindy caught it. “Have a wonderful evening, darlings!”

      “Is she always like that?” Dan pushed the elevator button with a black-gloved finger. He looked particularly fine in a wool-blend overcoat and tailored modern-cut tuxedo.

      “Most of the time. She really means it though. When she calls you darling, it’s not an air kiss, you know. She loves everybody until they give her a reason not to. And the people she truly loves, she loves passionately.”

      He smiled. “You do look lovely. I have no doubt you’ll be the belle of the ball.” He hesitated, holding the door of the elevator for her as she got off. “She didn’t help you get ready for my party though, did she?”

      She snorted. “You sure know how to flatter a girl, Dan Mason.” She accepted his arm as they walked out the door to get into his waiting limousine. “No, that fashion mishap was entirely my own—except the dress, she did get that for me.”

      Alan, dressed in a chauffeur’s cap and coat, held the door open for them. “Good evening, Miss Stewart.”

      “Cheerio, Alan!” She saluted him and was rewarded by an inscrutable smile before he closed the door.

      “For the record,” Dan said, settling into the seat beside her, “I would not at all call the way you looked at my party a fashion mishap. I rather liked it. You looked…more natural. Tonight you glitter, but I can tell it’s on the surface, like most of СКАЧАТЬ