The Last Mrs. Parrish(56)

Jackson got up from his desk chair and opened his arms. “Come here, you little worrier.” He hugged her, and she held on to him tightly. “Stop fretting. It will all work out, I promise you.”

Amber knew better than to challenge him by asking him how and when it was all going to work out. “You’re going back to Connecticut tonight?”

He moved her back, his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. “I have to. Besides, I want to check things at home. Daphne looks like she’s having problems.”

“Yes, I noticed that too. She’s gained more weight, hasn’t she?” Amber said.

“She looked sloppy, and that’s not like her. I want to check on the girls too, make sure everything’s okay.”

Amber wiggled back into his arms. “I’ll miss you so much.”

He dropped his arms and walked to the office door. Amber was already unzipping her skirt as she heard the lock click.





Thirty-Four




Jackson told Amber he had a surprise for her. The chauffeur picked them up from the apartment and drove them to Teterboro Airport, where a private jet waited for them. When Amber saw the airfield, she turned to Jackson. “What are we doing?” she asked.

Jackson pulled her closer to him. “We’re taking a little trip.”

“A trip? Where? I don’t have any clothes with me.”

“Of course you don’t. But you won’t be in them much anyway,” he said with a laugh.

“Jackson!” Amber feigned outrage. “But really. I didn’t pack anything.”

“Don’t worry—there are stores in Paris.”

“Paris?” she cried. “Oh, Jackson. We’re going to Paris?”

“The most romantic city in the world.”

Amber unbuckled her seat belt, slid onto Jackson’s lap, and kissed him. They almost undressed right there in the car, but they had pulled to a stop near the jet stairs. Jackson was the first to pull away. “Here we are,” he said, and opened his door.

They boarded the plane, and Amber looked around while Jackson talked to the pilot. The only planes she’d been on were commercial airliners crowded with rows and rows of seats, and naturally, Amber had never sat anywhere but in economy. Even that time she’d met Jackson and the family in London, she had flown commercially. She knew that private jets existed, but she’d never imagined they looked like this. Supple leather sofas in a beautiful cream color sat on both sides of the plane, facing each other. There was a large-screen TV, and a dining table for four had a round crystal vase filled with fresh flowers. A door opened onto a bedroom with a king-size bed, and the bathroom was almost as luxurious as the one in the New York apartment. In fact, Amber thought, it was like being in a smaller but just as sumptuous home.

Jackson came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “You like?”

“What’s not to like?”

“Follow me,” he said.

He led her into the bedroom, where he opened the closet doors. Indicating a mass of clothing hanging there, he said, “Look through them and decide what you want to keep. Keep all of them if you like.”

“When did you have time to do this?”

“I took care of it last week,” he said.

Amber went to the closet and went through the hangers one by one, examining the dresses, tops, pants, jackets, and sweaters, every one still with a tag on it. Obviously, he’d bought them just for her. She excitedly began pulling them out to try on, kicking off her shoes and removing her dress. Jackson sat on the bed. “You don’t mind if I watch this little show, do you?”

“Not one little bit.”

She tried on every last piece, modeling them for Jackson, who approved of it all. Of course, he had chosen everything, so it stood to reason that he would.

“There are shoes in there too. Up top, on the shelf,” he said.

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Amber looked up and counted fifteen shoe boxes with names she had only dreamed about. Each pair cost about the same as her monthly rent, some of them even more. When she got to the Jimmy Choos with white suede, crystals, and ostrich feathers, she put them on and took off everything else, then wiggled into the delicious red and black lace corset he’d bought for her. She felt like a movie star, with her stupendously expensive duds, a private jet to travel in, and a gorgeous man dying to make love to her. She walked over to Jackson, still seated on the bed, and, running her fingers through his hair, pulled his face against her chest. She pushed him down and began to work her magic. In a matter of seconds, she would do her best to take him to another world.

Later they had dinner by candlelight, Amber still in her high heels, but now with a silk robe over her naked body.

“I’m famished,” she said as she cut into her filet mignon.

“No wonder. You must have burned up five thousand calories.”

“If I could stay in bed with you and never have to come up for air or food, I would be the happiest girl alive.” She made sure to stroke his ego every chance she got.

Jackson raised his wineglass. “That would be a perfect world, my hungry little sexaholic.”

When they landed at Le Bourget Airport in Paris, they were whisked by chauffeur to the Hotel Plaza Athénée. Amber loved the hotel, with its red awnings and crimson bouquets everywhere you looked. She toured its 35,000-bottle wine cellar and was pampered at the Dior Institut spa. It was the most glorious week of her life, strolling along the Champs-élysées and dining in intimate cafés with soft lighting and delectable food. The Eiffel Tower thrilled her. She was overwhelmed by the vastness of the Louvre and its masterpieces, moved by the grand edifice of Notre-Dame, and charmed by the city’s amber hue as lights glowed in the twilight. And in between this eye-opening journey, she never let Jackson forget how virile and exciting she found him.