The Summer of Sunshine and Margot(32)

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was not what I meant.”

Sunshine turned toward him, her eyes bright with laughter. “It’s okay,” she told him, her voice kind and a little amused. “I totally get it. You’re saying it’s too soon to get involved, but getting laid wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“God, that sounds terrible, but yes.”

“It sounds real and honest. You know, you can have sex without a relationship.”

He stared at her. “Are you suggesting I hire a hooker?”

She burst out laughing. “No. You don’t seem the type. I’m saying there are plenty of women who want a weekend fling with no attachments.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“Not in my world.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I would be. Genuinely.” He knew she wasn’t one of them. Sunshine wanted more. “To be honest, I’m not sure that’s my thing. I always preferred a relationship to go with my sex. Even in college, I wasn’t that guy.”

Her expression turned wistful. “That’s really nice to hear. I like that there are good guys out there.”

“Yes, and most of us aren’t getting any.”

She laughed again. “Try being open to the possibility.”

“I think I’ll just suffer instead. But what about what you want? You should be able to find anyone you want.”

“It’s not as easy as you’d think.”

That couldn’t be true. Not that he could discuss it with her. He’d already said too much. Later he would mull over the depressing fact that she hadn’t so much as hinted that she found him to be the kind of man she would want to sleep with. Not that he was, or she would or any of that. Dear God, what was wrong with him?

“I hope we both get what we want,” he said, struggling frantically for a way to gracefully change the topic.

She raised her glass. “Me, too. Whatever that turns out to be.”

  Bianca’s bedroom was an architectural marvel. This was the first time Margot had been inside and she couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful windows and the wood carvings around the doors. The ceiling was domed, the doorway to the bathroom arched and the combination of old world and modern blended seamlessly. If the main upstairs guest room was this nice, what must the master bedroom be like? Margot had to admit she had her first serious crush on a house.

She forced her attention back to the matter at hand—having Wesley over for cocktails that evening. Margot was very curious about the man who had won Bianca’s heart. She had, of course, done her research on him and could easily do five minutes on his history and accomplishments, but that wasn’t the same as meeting the man in person. Who was he? What qualities and characteristics had made Bianca fall in love with him and be so willing to change to fit into his world? She had high hopes that tonight many of her questions would be answered, but first they had to choose a wardrobe.

Margot pulled her attention away from the carved four-poster bed and the antique dresser to the woman she was working with. Bianca wore an oversize shirt tied at the waist, and leggings. On anyone else, the outfit was ordinary, even sloppy. But on her petite frame, with her gorgeous face and air of sensual grace, it was stunning in its simplicity.

Margot smiled. “This room suits you. All the drama and elegance are the perfect backdrop.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you. I like the room a lot. I’d change it if it was mine, of course, but Alec likes things to be traditional.”

A quality Margot appreciated, not that she would say that to Bianca. It was important never to be seen taking sides.

Margot motioned toward the closet. “Shall we?”

“I really don’t need your help picking out a dress for drinks at home,” Bianca grumbled, even as she led the way.

“It isn’t drinks at home,” Margot reminded her. “It’s drinks with a diplomat and a few friends.”

“Same difference.”

Bianca sounded like a pouty fourteen-year-old, which was probably the point. Bianca was interested in her lessons and remembered Cardiganian history easily, but there was always an undercurrent of defiance. As if she were going to start spray-painting the walls at any second. Or maybe Margot was just projecting. She’d been told Bianca was a certain way, had read about her antics and now she was looking for rebellion. Maybe Bianca had already changed and there was nothing to worry about.

They moved into a large walk-in closet. Dozens, or maybe hundreds, of dresses, long and short, filled one wall. Blouses, jeans and pants filled another. There were shelves overflowing with folded sweaters, racks and racks of shoes and handbags. Small handbags, totes, bucket bags and boxes with pictures showing elegant evening bags.

“Wow,” Margot said, turning in a circle. “I’m speechless.”

“I love clothes.”

“And you look good in them. It’s overwhelming but in a happy way. All right, what would you like to wear tonight?”

Bianca walked over to the wall of dresses and flipped through them. She pulled out three. One was a black bandage dress that dipped low in the front and, based on the thick elastic fabric, would fit as tight as plastic wrap. The second, also black, was a tiny slip dress with spaghetti straps. The third one was see-through black lace.