Traveling Man by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2021-11-04T10:02:50+00:00

*****

Emily heard the tiny click the doorbell always made just before it started to peal, and she peered anxiously over her shoulder at Carrie. “Quinn’s here already. Is the catch broken?”

“No, it’s just stuck.” Carrie gave the necklace another tug. “There, it’s secure. Don’t fiddle with it, though. I’d hate to see you lose the necklace.” She hurried off toward the front door.

“Especially since it’s yours,” Emily called after her. She took a moment to study the necklace’s reflection in the pier mirror, the gold glowing dully against the crystal clarity of teardrop-shaped diamonds. The necklace was larger and more elaborate than anything she normally wore, but tonight called for all the glitz and glamour she could muster. There would be plenty of it in the audience tonight, and she needed every bit of extra confidence that looking truly wonderful always added.

She picked up her gloves from the table under the pier mirror, where she had tossed them when she rushed downstairs to beg Carrie’s help with the difficult catch. She was just starting to put them on when a reflection caught her eye.

Carrie came into the parlor. Just a step behind her, Quinn stopped in the doorway — abruptly, as if he’d run into an invisible wall.

Emily didn’t turn around, but she watched him as she put on her long black kid gloves. They were the tightly-fitted kind with button fastenings at wrist and elbow, and it took patience to work her fingers into position, so she had plenty of time to look him over.

She’d been right about the glitz; Quinn was not wearing a tuxedo, but white tie and tails. He was magnificent, tall and straight and lean, every inch perfect from mirror-polished shoes to sun-streaked hair, which for the first time in Emily’s memory was brushed into perfect order.

She finished buttoning her gloves; it took even longer than usual because her fingers were trembling just a little. Her back, bare almost to the waist, had been chilly earlier. Now her spine felt warm, as if not only his gaze rested on that expanse of creamy skin, but his hands as well.

He didn’t say a word. And he didn’t move from the doorway.

Emily picked up her tiny evening bag and turned to face him. “Well, aren’t you a tailor’s dream?” she murmured. Her voice sounded odd to her own ears, strained somehow.

Quinn didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you,” he said. “You look…”

He paused, and Emily’s eyebrows rose just a little, wondering what on earth required so much thought from Quinn, who was never at a loss for words. Was it the way the sequin trim glittered on the close-fitting bodice of her black dress? Or the sweep of the long skirt, which despite its fullness accentuated every curve? Or perhaps the daring plunge of the neckline?

“Well-rested,” he finished.

That will teach you, Emily thought. She’d asked him to tone down the nonsense, and he had. It was silly to be disappointed because he hadn’t paid lavish compliments.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

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