Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Hollie
I needed to leave the party to make sure I found the bus on time, but I just wanted to steal a few more moments with this ring.
I shoved my notebook and pen back into my bag and circled the display case again.
When was I going to get another opportunity to see jewels like this, with this kind of history, demonstrating this kind of talent and creativity?
It was only now I understood Lord of the freaking Rings.
I could happily suspend my disbelief for wizards and hobbits, but I’d never bought into the idea that some mystical band of gold could inspire such risk to life and limb.
Looking at this emerald, though, I totally and completely understood how it might be worth a trip to Mordor.
There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to put that ring on my finger.
Again, I held my hand alongside it. The stone was big, but that was part of its charm.
You wouldn’t see anything else when this ring was in your eyeline.
My smudged manicure and hand-me-down dress would go unnoticed with this gem on my hand.
I might even fit in with the other guests in this ballroom tonight.
All it would take was a multi-million-dollar ring.
“It suits you,” a man said from behind me. His gravelly voice sent an involuntary shiver racing down my spine, as if someone had run a finger across the bare skin of my back.
I snapped my head around to find the impossibly gorgeous Dexter Daniels grinning at me, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
If I’d thought he was handsome from across the room, being face-to-face with him didn’t disappoint.
He was broad, filling up the entire space in front of me, and so tall I had to tip my head back to look him in the eye.
He was standing close, as if we were already sharing secrets, and a faint woodsy scent came from his custom suit.
A curl of shiny black hair fell onto his forehead, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to push it back into place.
I turned away, unsure if I would be able to form a coherent sentence if I was looking at him. “Sadly, it’s out of my price range,” I said, flattening my hand on the glass case.
“I’m not sure it’s for sale,” he replied. “But if it was, you should have it.”
“Right,” I said. “I also deserve a castle in Scotland, but that’s not on this week’s grocery list either.”
I looked up at him, waiting for a response, but instead he just stared right back at me. When he finally spoke again after a too-long beat of silence, he said, “Your eyes are quite the most beautiful shade of green and have the most glorious flecks of blue, just like a Zambian emerald.”
I wanted to giggle at his straight-up crazy mixed with a hunk of cheese, but before the corners of my mouth had turned up, he stepped back and his cheeks reddened as if he was embarrassed by what he’d said. As if it had been a slip of the tongue.
“God, sorry, I sound like I’m coming on to you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and instinctively I reached to remove his hand.
“Don’t be sorry. I treat cheese as its own food group. I’m a fan. My name’s Hollie.”
He chuckled. “Dexter Daniels, and I swear I’m not usually so cheesy. Some people have even accused me of being too smooth.” He narrowed his gaze. “But your eyes are really quite extraordinary.”
“Yeah, Zambian-emerald extraordinary. I get that all the time, whatever it means.”
“Wait. You’ve not seen a Zambian emerald?” he said, pulling his cell from his pocket. “Are you not in the gemstone business?”
I shrugged. “Just an intern.”
“We all have to start somewhere.”
“Right,” I said. “This is just the first step.” I thought my Etsy shop would be the first step and in many ways it had been.
I just didn’t have the time or money to make enough pieces to turn a profit.
My online shop was a hobby, but one that had ignited hope in me, a belief that there was a life for me outside the trailer park once Autumn graduated.
Dexter handed me his phone, which displayed a huge emerald on it.
“It’s not as pretty as this,” I said, handing back the phone and nodding at the ring in the display case.
“Or your eyes,” he replied.
With a face that pretty and a body that hot, surely this man had women throwing themselves at him left and right.
Why was he over here, talking to me about my eyes?
Sure, he was gorgeous, but I didn’t need gorgeous unless it could cut glass.
I had to stay focused on my internship. I wasn’t in London for a holiday romance.
“Sorry, more cheese,” he said. “So apart from the ring that goes with your eyes, did you see anything else you like?”
“What’s not to like? I’m from Nowheresville, Oregon. It all looks good to me. What about you?” I asked.
“The tiara.” He thrust his fingers through his hair as if he were uncomfortable all of a sudden.
“It’s very beautiful,” I replied. “The settings for that top layer are genius.”
He nodded but didn’t elaborate. It was as if his mood had flipped. Maybe he was thinking about the tiara and how hard it would be to design and produce anything as stunning.
“It sets the bar for this competition pretty high,” I said.
“I was born for the challenge,” he replied. His mood flipped again and he grinned widely. “My parents designed and made that tiara.”
“I heard that. So, winning this competition is your . . . destiny?”
“More like my responsibility.”
That hadn’t been what I was expecting him to say. I was starting to see that beneath the near-offensive level of hotness and the oh-so-relaxed attitude, Dexter Daniels had hidden depths. And the longer I stood here, breathing the same air as him, the more I wanted to know.
“That’s an interesting way of looking at it,” I replied. “Holy Hercules,” I said, catching a glimpse of Dexter’s watch. “I was supposed to meet my ride fifteen minutes ago out front.”
“Let me walk you out,” he said, putting his hand to the base of my spine and making me shiver again as he guided me out.
I hoped the bus would wait. I didn’t have money to splurge on cab fare and I hadn’t figured out the subway yet.
“Who’s lucky enough to be taking you home?” Dexter said. “Jesus, everything I say to you sounds positively fondue-like. What is it with you?”
I laughed. “You think it’s me? I’m cheese-inducing?
That’s like the best compliment ever,” I said as we reached the entrance of the hotel.
I craned my neck but couldn’t see the bus at the promised pick-up point.
Would they just leave me? Weren’t the British too polite to do something like that?
“I was meant to be meeting my colleagues.” I was stranded.
I didn’t pick up my UK phone until tomorrow, and my thousand-year-old flip phone with an American number and no international roaming plan was back in my room at my short-term rental.
It wasn’t like I’d swapped numbers with my new Sparkle coworkers anyway.
What use did they have for the intern’s phone number?
I needed to find a way home, but not before I cut Dexter loose. He’d already distracted me and made me miss my ride. God knew what would happen if I let this go on even one minute more.
I held out my hand. “It’s been good to meet you, Dexter Daniels.”
He grinned as he gripped my hand with his.
“But if you’d point me in the direction of the subway, I’ll be on my way. These Zambian eyes need their beauty sleep.”
“Please,” he said as a car pulled out in front of us and he opened its back door. “I’ll drop you. Where are you going?” He gestured for me to get inside.
“This is your car?” I asked. “My mom warned me about getting into cars with strangers.” Of course, that was a lie. It was the kind of thing I warned my sister about, but that my mother would have positively encouraged if it meant we saved on bus fare.
“We’re friends now, though, aren’t we?” he asked. “Not strangers.”
Silently I weighed my options. Get into the car with the most handsome man in Europe, who would either take me safely home or he’d chop me into tiny pieces and feed me to his dog?
On the other hand, I could wander the streets for the evening and end up meeting a murderer anyway.
Seemed like even odds on getting home or getting axe-murdered.
“You promise me you’re not a serial killer? ”
“Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up three fingers.
The way his eyes twinkled as he said it suggested Dexter was about as far away from Boy Scout as it was possible to be. But I was lost in a big city, and whatever decision I made would be a risk.
I took his hand as he helped me into his car. When the door shut, the man at the wheel said, “Good evening, ma’am.”
He probably thought Dexter was taking me home. Which he was, but not like that. No siree. I wasn’t shopping for distractions.
“Where are we going?” Dexter asked as he got in beside me.
I leaned forward to give the driver my address and Dexter chuckled from behind me. “What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said as if he’d just discovered a secret about me I didn’t know I’d revealed.
“You want me to tell you my address so you can tell the driver? Do you have control issues you need to discuss with your shrink?” I teased, grinning.
I just hoped he was a guy who could take a joke.
“You may be surprised to learn that in America, women can give out their addresses without any male assistance.”
“Across the pond, but an entirely different world,” he said, unable to contain an answering smile.
After I gave the driver my address, I settled back into the plush leather seat.
“So how long have you lived in London?” he asked.
I counted on my fingers. “Six days. Well, six and a half, if you count the time difference. I arrived last Saturday morning.”
“Oh wow. Not long. Is it your first time in England?”
“Yeah. I didn’t even have a passport before this trip.
” I wasn’t about to tell him I hadn’t made it out of Oregon until a week ago.
He was a super-successful, sophisticated guy who no doubt travelled all the time.
I bet he’d never met someone before who’d never made it out of state, let alone lived in a single-wide trailer.
“And how do you like it?” he asked.
“Mostly it’s amazing, though some of the guys are a little cheesy.”
He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Positively fondue-like, I’m afraid.”
“To be honest with you, I’ve never had fondue,” I replied.
“But I’m guessing it’s something close to heaven.
I think the next three months are going to feature a lot of firsts for me.
Let’s hope fondue is in there somewhere.
” There had already been more first-time experiences than I could have imagined.
Tonight had more that I could count on both hands.
It was the first time in the ballroom at some fancy hotel.
First time drinking champagne. The first time seeing millions of dollars’ worth of the most gorgeous jewelry up close and personal.
The first time being driven home by a handsome stranger who also happened to be one of the most successful fine jewelers in the world.
“Well I’d be delighted to make sure it is. It seems only fair, considering my cheesiness distracted you from meeting your colleagues this evening. I should make it up to you.”
He had nothing to make up. But he knew that already.
“Like on a date?” I asked.
“A cheese date,” he replied.
It had started raining, and I traced one of the raindrops trickling down the other side of the window so I didn’t betray how I beamed inside at his invitation.
For most women, it was an invitation too good to pass up, but this guy had already distracted me enough. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I like to talk cheese with you,” he said, looking at me as if he was unpeeling the dress from my shoulders. “I want to take you to dinner.”
I wasn’t asked out on dates often. And when I was, I rarely wanted to say yes. Fondue with Dexter sounded great, but felt wrong. It seemed self-indulgent and stupid. I was already in London on my dream internship. That was enough fun, wasn’t it?
Back in Oregon, I was used to making sure there was enough money coming in to pay the rent on mine and Autumn’s trailer, and my parents’ trailer, along with tuition payments for my sister’s college and then gas and food.
Grilled cheese was a staple, and anything creative we could figure out with that week’s sale produce.
I spent a lot of my life worrying, adding up the out column and making sure it wasn’t bigger than the in column.
London should be enough without dinner dates, period.
I didn’t even want to calculate the karmic cost of spending more time with Dexter Daniels.
We turned onto my street and my heartrate began to pick up. I didn’t want to say no, but I didn’t see how I could say yes.
“Can I think about it?” I asked him.
He chuckled. “If that’s what it takes. Let me have your number.”
“Actually, why don’t you give me your card.” I didn’t know what my UK number would be, and there was no point in giving him my US cell, which I was afraid to turn on for fear of incurring massive charges.
He pulled his business card out from his inside pocket. Even if I never called him, I’d have a memento of him asking me.
We pulled to a stop outside my flat and before I had the chance to say goodnight, Dexter had slipped out, rounded the trunk and was opening the door.
“Thank you,” I said as he helped me out of the car. “For the ride. And the offer of cheese.”
He chuckled. “I hope you call.” He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.
Despite my brain telling me I never would, another part of me, the part that believed anything could happen, hoped I did too.