Just One More Night. Fiona Brand
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Название: Just One More Night
Автор: Fiona Brand
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: The Pearl House
isbn: 9781472049070
isbn:
Nick’s words came back to haunt her.
He didn’t like her glasses or the way she did her hair. He hadn’t mentioned her clothes, but she was seeing them through his eyes, and she was ready to admit that they were just as clunky, just as boring as the glasses and her hair.
As much as she resented his opinion, he was right. Something had to change. She had to change.
She could no longer immerse herself in work and avoid the fact that another birthday had just flown by. She was twenty-eight. Two more years and she would be thirty.
If she wasn’t careful she would be thirty and alone.
Or she could change her life so that she would be thirty and immersed in a passionate love relationship.
Feeling electrified, as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice, about to take a perilous leap into the unknown, she studied the elegant writing on the glass frontage of the store. A tingling sense of fate taking a hand gripped her.
It wasn’t a store, exactly. It was a very exclusive and expensive health and beauty spa. The kind of place she was routinely around because her employer, the Atraeus Group, numbered a few very high-quality spa facilities among its resort properties. Of course, she had never personally utilized any of those spa facilities.
But that was the old Elena.
Her jaw firmed. She had made a decision to change. By the time she was finished, she would be, if not as pretty, at least as sleek and stylish and confident as the woman in the blue dress.
The idea gained momentum. She would no longer allow herself to feel inadequate and excluded, which would mean inner as well as outward change.
She could walk in those doors now if she wanted. She had the money. After years of saving her very good salary, she had more than enough to pay for a makeover.
Feeling a little dizzy at the notion that she didn’t have to stay as she was, that she had the power to change herself, she stepped up to the exquisite white-and-gold portal. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door wide and stepped inside.
* * *
After an initial hour-long consultation with a stylist called Giorgio, during which he had casually ticked almost every box on the interview form he had used, Elena signed on for every treatment recommended.
First up was weight loss and detox, which included a week in a secluded health spa. That was followed by a comprehensive fitness program and an introduction to her new personal trainer. A series of beauty and pamper treatments, and a comprehensive hair, makeup and wardrobe makeover completed her program.
The initial week at their spa facility would cost a staggering amount, but she was desperate.
According to Giorgio she wasn’t desperate; she was worth it.
Elena wasn’t about to split hairs. As long as the spa could carry out its promise and transform her, she was happy to pay.
Her heart sped up at the changes she was about to make. Hope flooded her.
The next time she saw Nick Messena, things would be different. She would be different.
Three
One month later, Nick Messena watched, green gaze cool, as Elena Lyon walked with measured elegance down the aisle toward him, every step precisely, perfectly timed with the beat of the Wedding March.
Mellow afternoon sunlight poured through stained glass windows, illuminating the startling changes she had made, from her long, stylishly cut, midnight-dark hair to the tips of her outrageously sexy pink high heels. Her bridesmaid’s dress, a sophisticated confection of pink lace and silk that he privately thought was just a little too revealing, clung to lush, gentle curves and a mouthwateringly tiny waist.
As the bride reached the altar, Elena’s gaze rested briefly on Kyle who was Gabriel’s groomsman, then locked with his. With grim satisfaction, he noted that she hadn’t realized he had changed roles with Kyle and taken over as Gabriel’s best man. If she had, he was certain she would have very quickly and efficiently organized someone else to take her place as maid of honor.
Dragging her gaze free, Elena briskly took charge of the flower girl, Gabriel and Gemma’s daughter Sanchia, who had just finished tossing rose petals. Nick’s brows jerked together as he took stock of some of the changes he had barely had time to register at the prewedding dinner the previous evening. For the first time he noticed a tiny, discreet sparkle to one side of Elena’s delicate nose. A piercing.
Every muscle in his body tightened at the small, exotic touch. His elusive ex-lover had lost weight, cut her hair and ditched the dull, shapeless clothing she had worn like a uniform. In the space of a few weeks, Elena had morphed from softly curved, bespectacled and repressively buttoned-down, into an exotically hot and sensuous swan.
Jaw clamped, Nick transferred his attention to the bride, Gemma O’Neill, as she stood beside his brother.
As the ceremony proceeded, Elena kept her attention fixed on the priest. Fascinated by her intention to utterly ignore him, Nick took the opportunity to study the newly sculpted contours of Elena’s cheekbones, her shell-like lobes decorated with pink pearls and tiny pink jewels.
The sexily ruffled haircut seemed to sum up the changes Elena had made: less, but a whole lot more.
As Nick handed the ring to Gabriel, Elena’s dark gaze clashed with his for a pulse-pounding moment. The starry, romantic softness he glimpsed died an instant death, replaced by the familiar professional blandness that made his jaw tighten.
The cool neutrality was distinctly at odds with the way Elena had used to look at him. It was light-years away from the ingenuous passion that had burned him from the inside out when they had made love.
A delicate, sophisticated perfume wafted around him. The tantalizing scent, like Elena’s designer wardrobe, her new, sleek body shape and the ultramodern haircut—all clearly the product of a ruthless makeover artist—set him even more sensually on edge.
Gabriel turned to take the hand of the woman he had pledged to marry.
A flash of Elena’s pink dress, as she bent down to whisper something to Sanchia, drew Nick’s gaze, along with another tempting flash of cleavage.
With a brisk elegance that underlined the fact that the old Elena was long gone, she repositioned Sanchia next to Gemma. Nick clamped down on his impatience as the ceremony proceeded at a snail’s pace.
Elena had been avoiding him for the past twenty-four hours, ever since she had arrived in Dolphin Bay. The one time he had managed to get her alone—last night to discuss meeting at the beach villa—she had successfully stonewalled him. Now his temper was on a slow burn. Whether she liked it or not, they would conclude their business this weekend.
Distantly, he registered that Gabriel was kissing his new bride. With grim patience, Nick waited out the signing of the register in the small, adjacent vestry.
As Gabriel swung his small daughter up into his arms, Elena’s gaze, unexpectedly misty and soft, connected with his again, long enough for him to register two salient facts. The contact lenses with which she had replaced her trademark glasses СКАЧАТЬ