The Last Mrs. Parrish(43)
“Daphne, it’s Amber. Jackson told me Bella’s not well. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“No, I don’t think so. Just some sniffles and a low-grade fever. You know, she just wants Mommy. I didn’t want to leave her.”
“Yes, I can understand why you wouldn’t.” She paused. “Jackson asked me to fill in for you tonight. I just wanted to let you know. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course I don’t mind. I think it’s a great idea. Enjoy yourself.”
“Okay. Thanks, Daphne. I hope Bella’s feeling better soon.”
For once, Amber was filled with gratitude for the little nuisance.
They left the office at five thirty on the dot. She felt a rush sitting next to him in the taxi. It was better than the best high she’d ever experienced. When they walked into the restaurant, she was pleased by the admiring glances of those around her. Amber knew she looked good, and the man with his hand on her back was one of the richest men in the room. They were seated at a table in a quiet corner of the posh restaurant, bathed in candlelight.
“Wow, I’ve never been in a restaurant like this.”
“This was one of the first places I brought Daphne when we started dating.”
Daphne was the last thing Amber wanted to talk about, but if he insisted, maybe she could spin it to her advantage. “Daphne’s talked a lot about your dating days, how different it was then.”
He sat back in his chair and smiled. “Different? Yes, it was different then. There’s nothing like the rush that comes with falling in love. And I fell hard, that’s for sure. I’d never met anyone like her.” He took a sip of wine, and once again, Amber admired his fine hands.
“Sounds like you were made for each other.” She practically had to choke the words out.
He put the glass down and nodded. “Daphne has grown into such an amazing woman over the years. I look at all she’s accomplished and am so proud of her. I have the perfect wife.”
Amber almost gagged on her salad. Just when she thought he might be noticing the changes in her, the new, stylish, and attractive Amber, he was going on about his golden wife.
They talked mostly about business after that, and he treated her as any colleague he might have been dining with. When they got to the theater and took their seats—in a box—she let herself imagine again what it would be like to be married to him. If only he were interested in her as a woman and not just an assistant, the night would have been perfect.
When the curtain fell at eleven, Amber was not ready to end the evening. There were still plenty of bustling crowds on the street, and it looked as if all the restaurants and cafés were filled with patrons.
As they strolled toward Times Square, Jackson looked at his watch. “It’s getting late, and we have an early day tomorrow—the meeting with Whitcomb Properties.”
“I’m wide awake. Not tired at all,” she said.
“You might feel different when your alarm—” He stopped midsentence. “You’re going to be exhausted in the morning. Daphne and I were going to stay at the apartment tonight, and when she couldn’t make it, I told her I was going to go ahead and stay by myself. You could stay in the guest room. It seems foolish for you to take a train at this late hour, and you’ve stayed with us in the city before. I suppose the only problem is clothing.”
“I’m sure Daphne wouldn’t mind if I borrow something. After all, she lent me a designer gown for the fund-raiser. I’m only one size smaller than she is.” Amber hoped he didn’t miss the comparison.
“Okay, then.” Jackson hailed a cab, and Amber sank back into the seat, happy with this turn of events.
The taxi let them off in front of an uptown building, and they walked under the long canopy to the entrance. “Good evening, Mr. Parrish.” The doorman’s face showed no reaction to Amber, whether because of discretion or lack of interest, she didn’t know.
The private elevator opened directly into the foyer of the large space. It was unlike their house, a more modern and minimalist design, all in shades of white and gray. The focal points were the paintings on the walls, abstract art with bursts of color that fused it all together. She took it all in, overwhelmed.
“I’m going to grab a nightcap,” Jackson said. “The guest bedroom is the third door on the right. Fresh towels and toothbrushes, everything you might need. But before that, why don’t you take a look in Daphne’s closet and pick something out for the morning?” He went to the glass cart that held bottles and decanters and poured himself a scotch.
“Okay. I won’t be long.” She walked into the sumptuous bedroom, wanting nothing more than for Jackson to swoop in and throw her onto the king-size bed. Instead, she searched the bureau for Daphne’s lingerie. She pondered again the evidence of an uptight Daphne whose drawers were in such order as to be almost laughable. Pulling out black lace panties, she held them up and nodded. They would do. Next, she went to the closet, where each garment was evenly spaced, just as it was at home. She took out a delicious red Armani suit and white camisole. Perfect. Now the stockings. She opened several drawers before finding them and chose a pair of sheer and silky thigh-highs in beige. She’d look like a million bucks tomorrow.
Amber grabbed her items and reluctantly left the bedroom.