“Wishful thinking, I don’t have time. Barneys’ orders are keeping me on my toes. I need to send samples to the factory today. Next is Saks Fifth Avenue.”
“How’s Birdie?”
“Mom talked to your Aunt Muffie at the Colony Club…they lunched. And Mom showed your aunt the Today’s Business article that you’re in.”
“Why is Birdie carrying that article around?”
“You’re on the cover.”
“So?”
“She’s proud of you. We’ll talk when you get home.” Lex’s voice sounded as if she had an agenda.
“Not sure I like the sound of this…”
Lex laughed. “Call me when you get home and we’ll talk. No sense in worrying you.” The snipping sounds increased. “Crap, I’m cutting the wrong end. I should get back to finishing my work. I need both hands.”
“I love you, Lex.”
The phone clicked. Lex didn’t hear her.
She held the phone in her hand for a few seconds then turned it off. She wondered if Lex felt as miserable as she sounded with her workload. Lex wouldn’t complain or let on if she was. And what did her aunt want?
What are you up to, Auntie Muffie?
Chapter Thirteen
Sweet Baby Jesus on an Ice Cream Cone
Taddy hadn’t lied to Warner at the police station earlier when commenting on Hôtel du France’s press. It was massive. Massively bad! If Truman Enterprises had been a client, sure enough they’d be fired now. On the flight over to Cannes, she’d witnessed the media shitstorm coming down the pipeline on Air France’s in-flight TV monitors. Passengers onboard had joked. The middle-aged man reeking of cigar smoke who’d sat next to her had commented, “Man…I bet if I stayed at that hotel, my sex life would be amazing.”
“Disgusting,” snorted the woman who’d sat to her right.
A flight attendant had asked over the loudspeakers if anyone planned on staying at Hôtel du France. The passengers had laughed. As she’d sunk down in her seat, Taddy knew she’d have to barter her publicity genius and branding expertise to spring Kiki from jail. This was all her fault.
Hôtel du France was familiar to her. She’d stayed there many Cannes Film Festivals prior. Her idea to transform the property into the sexiest locale on the French Riviera had come easy to her. By six in the evening, she’d printed out tomorrow morning’s strategy for Warner to review and dropped the folder off at his room. A maid who wouldn’t let her past the VIP area had said, “Monsieur Truman is out for a walk on the beach. I’ll be sure he receives your package.”
Due to Cannes’ popularity and the hotels being sold out, Taddy didn’t have any choice except to stay at Hôtel du France. Warner gave her the executive suite that had been used by Kip Van Scott. She’d returned to her room for a short nap and then dressed for dinner. Was she nervous? Yes.
They’d agreed to meet at eight o’clock.
She stepped off the elevator wearing a strapless coral metallic jacquard Stella McCartney cocktail dress. Easy to spot, the acclaimed Bernard Guillaume restaurant took up Hôtel du France’s second floor. Taddy mentioned her name to the hostess and was escorted to a private area in the back.
“You look better each time I see you.” Warner stood at the white linen covered table. Dressed in a light-gray suit, he had his hair slicked back with a part to the right side. He appeared freshly shaven.
“Thank you. You too.” Taddy gave him a hug, wrapping her hands around his V-shaped back and torso as far as she could reach. She initially intended to kiss him on the cheek and give a tap to his shoulder, but his arms came wide and took her in close.
Warner picked her a smidge off her feet as he squeezed. You’re strong. He pressed into her as she felt his muscles. You’re hard. His erection grazed her as well. You’re hung.
After she’d caught her breath, he pulled the chair out for her to sit down. He scooted her in with one swift swoop. She giggled. Warner sat across from her. “Bernard Guillaume, our head chef, prepared a few house specials.” The table setting was intimate, as she’d hoped. The sun had bronzed Warner’s cheeks and forehead, making his teeth white when he spoke.
“I’ve read about Bernard’s dishes for years. His TV show is quite entertaining. I’m looking forward to this.” Suddenly, she felt Warner’s long legs shifting to find their place under the table. His knees rested against hers. The delicious pressure assured her that he was there and had no intention of leaving.
“Did Kiki get off to the airport okay?” He lifted a champagne bottle from the silver bucket and nodded his head for permission to pour. It was Dom Perignon Rosé.
Taddy handed him her glass. “Yes she did, thank you. Kiki has texted a few times, reminding me to extend her gratitude to you for dropping the charges.” She tapped her flute against his and nodded.
“Cheers!” He waited for her to take a sip. “Your assistant is a little firecracker.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I can see why you’re passionate about her.” He studied her as she drank her champagne before taking his own sip.
“I’m passionate about the people I care about.” She set her glass down, intending to pace herself. A lightweight, she couldn’t embarrass herself. Taddy didn’t have the same tolerance for alcohol as Vive.
“I hope you don’t mind—after getting reacquainted today at the police station, I looked Brill, Inc. up online.” He put his hand on her thigh under the table in a possessive gesture. “Brill, Inc. is quite the agency. You must be proud.”
“Thank you, I am.” His grip felt strong. Tempted to squirm, she kept her legs still. She imagined his fingers inching their way up her legs, spreading them apart, as his tongue lapped circles around her clit. Snap out of it, Taddy. Taking a sip of water, she wondered at what cost. Did Warner make similar sacrifices to get his company off and running as she did? “As I’m sure you are with Truman Enterprises.”
“Very much so.” His fingers glided along her hemline, causing her to shudder with excitement. “How do you manage Brill’s success and have a personal life?”
“I don’t.” She laughed over that daunting question.
The server came around with a yellow wax bean salad. Again, Warner waited for her to take the first bite. “Good?” he asked with a smile on his lips.