Mists of the Serengeti(80)

“Are you okay?” asked Jack, scanning my face.

“Yes.” I shook off the blue thoughts that were starting to rain down on me. I had seen the end coming before we began. I had pushed for it anyway. And it was worth every aching, twinging emotion because standing before him right then, I knew down to the depths of my soul: Jack had eyes for no one else but me. And there was nothing more exhilarating than being hit with the full force of that.

“Come on.” I dragged him toward the lifts. I didn’t want to waste any of our precious time together on empty, useless thoughts.

Our room was on the top level—the third floor, with a balcony that overlooked mounds of bright, pink bougainvillea spilling around a tranquil blue swimming pool.

“Goma must have asked for their nicest suite,” I said, taking in the silky bed linens, the bay window with crimson tieback curtains, the lush sitting area, the dressing table, the gilded mirror on the wall. There was a soaking tub in the bathroom, a giant shower cubicle, and gleaming, white marble floors. “Are you noticing any of this?” I grinned, pushing Jack away. He was following me around, taking his own tour. Untucking my top, nibbling my neck, measuring the curve of my waist.

“I notice everything. Like these two vertical ridges that run between your upper lip and nose . . . what’s this space called? It must have a name. It fits the tip of my little finger perfectly.” He proceeded to demonstrate, and then trailed his tongue over the dip of my cupid’s bow. I was getting lost in the magic of his kiss when there was a knock on the door.

“You mind getting that?” he asked, pulling away.

I wasn’t sure about the glint in his eyes. “What’s going on? You look like you’re up to something.” Jack was a take-charge kind of guy. If there was someone at the door, he’d want to get it himself.

“Just. Go. Get. It.” He spun me around.

I opened the door and saw a porter standing there with our luggage. Behind him was a trio of beautiful ladies carrying bags that were definitely not ours.

“Please come in.” Jack swung the door wider and let them in. He tipped the porter while the ladies settled their totes around the dressing area. One of them started hanging garment bags in the closet.

“Jack?” I turned from them to him.

“Rodel, meet Hair, Makeup, and Wardrobe,” he said. “I asked them to come in and spoil you. I want you to have a magical afternoon.”

“But I . . . I thought we’d be spending our last day together.”

“We are, sweetness.” His eyes softened as he smiled. “We’re going on a date. Just you and me. A proper date. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby when you’re done. Don’t take too long.” His mouth burned a silent promise on mine. “Take good care of my girl, ladies,” he said to our audience of three.

“We will, Mr. Warden,” they replied.

“I’ll miss you.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and clasped me in a tight embrace, sweeping me off my feet. I liked being his girl. I didn’t want to think of anything beyond that moment.

When he was gone, I turned around and found Hair, Makeup, and Wardrobe gawking after the door.

“Men who pick you up when they hug you,” said one of the girls. I didn’t know which of them it was, but they all sighed in unison.

I stared at their spellbound faces. They caught me looking at them and cinched up their expressions. There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Well, hopefully it’s a man you like,” I said. “Otherwise it could be a pepper spray moment.”

It took a second before their faces cracked. We all started laughing. It was the perfect icebreaker to the fanciest, most stupendous makeover I’d ever had. Josie, Melody, and Valerie were my fairy godmothers for the afternoon. My hair was washed, snipped, and put in rollers. I was fussed over, colors held against me, palettes chosen, nails buffed, eyebrows tweezed, lips outlined.

“No, thanks,” I said to the tray of false eyelashes that Josie held before me. I had images of them fluttering into my drink, or worse, watching Jack through a wonky set as he sat across from me.

“You need to pick a dress,” said Valerie, holding up a sleek gown.

“Shoes first. Then dress. Always,” said Melody, opening a row of neatly lined boxes.

“This must have cost Jack an arm and a leg.” I glanced at the label on the dress. “Are these like a rental?”

Valerie laughed so hard she nearly dropped the gown. “No, honey. No rentals. You get to keep whatever you choose. Our company is very selective about who we work with. We do celebrity weddings, A-list events, charity balls. Top of the class only.”

“So how did Jack manage to pull this off?”

Josie stopped in the middle of applying my makeup and held her brush at a slant. “Girl, that man you walked in here with is top of the class. Don’t tell me you don’t know how much he’s worth.”

“I’ve never . . . I didn’t . . . I thought . . .”

“The question isn’t how he managed to pull it off. The question is how he managed to pull it off so fast. We’re booked months in advance. When our boss called to get the team in here today, let me tell you, we hustled. So, yeah. Whatever Mr. Warden said to our boss lady, it sure lit a fire.”

“I had no idea.”