London Falling (Falling #2)(2)
He held the door open as I ducked under his outstretched arm. His cologne swirled in the air around him making me want to stop and hug him, rub my body against the heady scent. Inhaling deeply, I passed by him. A stinging smack to my ass jolted me into motion. It burned and I rubbed it soothingly. The champagne colored slip dress rubbed against my heated skin enticingly.
“You wanna follow up on that promise?” I asked cheekily.
He rolled his eyes and pushed me toward the elevator with a firm hand to my lower back.
“I’m looking forward to seeing your latest work.” Tripp smiled and hugged me to his side. “I’m guessing by the client, you went with an Asiatic theme?”
My lips twitched into a smile, knowing how much he loved to play this game. I shook my head and he frowned.
“Middle Eastern?” His dark eyebrows rose as he tilted his head to the side smiling. “No? Huh.” He looked perplexed. Tripp Devereaux was a gorgeous man. Tall, dark, handsome, a little lost soul that I couldn’t live without and I couldn’t fix.
“Stop guessing. Part of the excitement for me is seeing your face during the reveal.”
We arrived at the client’s home, nestled away in the upper-class Park Avenue neighborhood. Tripp clasped my hand and led me up the walk and into the building. Soft music was streaming through the door as we entered.
“London! The woman of the night is here!” A voice bellowed from across the room. In a few long strides my client Maxwell reached out and smoothed his hands from my shoulders and down my arms until he gripped my hands. That feeling of gratitude hit me hard and washed over my soul like a healing balm. “I have someone I need you to meet,” he said, his voice lowered an octave.
It had been two weeks since I left him to move on, to make right what went wrong in his life. I knew instinctively who he’d be introducing me to. He led me over to a pretty blond who had large brown eyes only for him. I smiled warmly at her, feeling no inner conflict. This was who he was meant to be with.
A fluttering memory rose to the surface sending me back to when Maxwell and I ended our time together.
Strong arms encircle my waist. His chin settling against my neck. Large hands slid up my back, pressing me closer to him. The scent of his aftershave was intoxicating but that’s not what made my heart thump. It was gratitude. The waves of appreciation that leapt off him crash against my soul, bringing with it an incredible sense of peace. That hum of forgiveness, the newfound resolve to fix what went astray and mend his heart, was overwhelming in its goodness. I close my eyes and pull his form tightly against mine, realizing it would be our last real embrace.
“How do I…” His voice cracks and brakes off.
“You love her…you love her greatly,” I whisper against his ear. He nods and I could feel when the moment changes, sizzling with tension when his soul pulls away from mine. It hurt, but it always does.
“Michele, this is London Kelley, designer and life-coach extraordinaire,” he beamed. The blond shook my hand.
“It’s good to meet you, Michele.” I shook her hand and that tingling essence unique to her soul passed through to me. She, too, was grateful, with no concerns about my stay. Sometimes it was difficult when I moved in with my client and his girlfriend didn’t live with him. The green-eyed monster often made itself known and that bitch had serious claws. To my great relief, Michele wasn’t the catty type and technically they weren’t an item when I stayed or I wouldn’t have slept with him.
“You have a gift, Ms. Kelley. Truly beautiful work,” she said while glancing around the open space. I had chosen to bring earthy warm tones into the stark white and black space.
Max lived like a bachelor before I entered his world six weeks ago. He was unhappy, lost in what to do next with his life. He was good looking and extremely successful; only individuals making six figures could afford my design services. Even with all his success, he was desperate for something he couldn’t quite name. I was able to lead him to what his heart desired.
I thought back to when I first moved into his home, setting my luggage on the bed.
“Will we be sleeping together?” he asked uncomfortably.
“I am not a highly paid hooker, Max.”
“No, no, I didn’t think you were. I just…you’re moving in, sending me signals that you’re attracted to me.” He shuffled from foot to foot. “I don’t know, I just …”
I cut him off. “I understand. And yes, I am attracted to you on a physical level and that connection could very well manifest during our time together.” I shrugged and continued unpacking. “My methods are unconventional. You will understand by the end of my stay.”
Back to the present, I watched Max tuck the petite blond to his side. It made my heart fill to bursting to see him opening himself to the one thing that would make him happy and fulfilled. Michele looked into his eyes adoringly. He needed this woman like he needed his next breath.
“I can’t thank you enough, London,” he said to me as he squeezed the lovely woman more tightly against him.
“What can I say? I’m good at my job.” With a wink, I excused myself to enjoy the party.
Tripp was at the food table loading his plate with crab cakes and puffy morsels of filo dough filled with cheese. I grabbed one off his plate and popped it in my mouth. The gooey mixture of cheese and spinach was warm and salty. He handed me a glass of white wine. It was perfectly paired with the food. Being a bartender at a gourmet restaurant in downtown New York City had provided Tripp with the training for incredible skills in the kitchen. He instinctively knew how to pair a meal with the perfect wine.