6
You gotta wear the right trousers if you're gonna be a rock star.—Chris Martin
When Rhett was fifteen she let Elaine talk her into entering the Miss Claiborne pageant.
Though she knew she didn't have a snowball's chance of even placing, much less winning the thing, she'd gone along with it because her best friend had been so excited.
But as she stood bathed in the heat of spotlights on the stage at the Community Center with the other contestants, all Rhett felt was ridiculous.
There she stood encrusted with makeup and hairspray and wearing a dress she didn't own, waiting for some strangers to pass judgment on the way she looked.
And now, twenty-seven years later, she felt the exact same way.
She paid for a blow-out at the salon, and endured a make-over session at Sephora conducted by girls younger than her own daughter, and for what?
So some guy she didn't know or care about might think she looked acceptable?
It was her own fault for mentioning to Mel that she thought she might like to start dating again. Ignoring the words "thought" and "might," Mel unearthed what she deemed a suitable candidate in less than a day, and before Rhett could process what was happening, a blind date was arranged.
Rhett crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her reflection.
Maybe if she showed up at the restaurant wearing that expression then this dreaded evening would come to a satisfying and quick end.
She turned off the car and grabbed the dry-cleaner bag containing a dress she didn't own from the back seat and exited her car with the enthusiasm of a teenage boy about to give an oral book report on Twilight.
"If it isn't the lovely Rhett, rescuer of rock stars in distress."
Startled, Rhett looked up from her keys and met the dark blue eyes of Rhys James.
"Oh, hey, Rhys. What's up?" A little thrill zapped through her at the sight of him.
What was God thinking when he created something that beautiful?
A legion of female angels must have been called in to give suggestions, because only a divine host could have come up with a face that was so breath-takingly stunning, but at the same time so definitely male that it made all other men look like trolls.
And that body? Such pure perfection could only be angel-made.
A man who looked like that had every right to be an arrogant, cocky ass, but from what Rhett had witnessed so far, Rhys wasn't like that at all.
Other-worldly gorgeous and nice? Rhys definitely won the creation lottery.
She pressed a button on her keyless entry fob to lock the doors of her car just as Rhys did the same to the device in his own hand. The double beep from her car mixed with the chirp from his X5 parked three spaces down.
"Hey," she said. "Your car's not doing its irritated dragon impression anymore."
"Nice change, isn't it?" He smiled and pushed his hair back with one hand. "They replaced the water pump, and there's been no more smoke rolling out of the front end."
Rhett fell into step beside him. "Never a good thing to see, especially in Texas."
"No kidding. I'm lucky you came by to save me from heat stroke or something."
"Anytime." She glanced at him with a shy smile. "Just yell whenever you need me."
"I'll definitely remember that." Something in his voice sent an excited thrill racing down her back, one she tried to ignore. This was Rhys James, after all, and he probably tossed out flirty comments like that to every woman he met. It didn't mean he meant it the way she hoped he did.
As they walked toward the elevator, Rhys peered at the bag she carried. "Nice dress, that," he observed. "Big evening planned?"
Reminded of her impending date, Rhett made a face. "It's my sister's. She set me up on a stupid blind date tonight, so I guess the least she could do is let me borrow a nice dress."
A grin lit his face at her morose tone. "I get the impression you aren't too chuffed about going out."
Rhett sent him a sideways look. "What was your first clue?"
He snickered under his breath. "Well, for starters, you look about as cheerful as someone who's going in for a root canal without anesthesia."
"Oh, believe me, I'd much rather have the root canal." She pressed the button on the keypad next to the elevator doors. "Wanna go in my place? I'll even let you borrow the dress."
"No, thank you." Rhys shuddered. "Blind dates are the worst. But you do have a rescue call arranged, right?"
"A what?" She frowned at the unfamiliar term.
"Someone to ring you ten or fifteen minutes into the date. It gives you a tactful way to get the hell out of Dodge if the date isn't going well."
Rhett's frown turned to a look of enlightenment. "I don't have one of those. I need one of those."
"Have your sister ring you, then."
"Right," Rhett muttered with an exasperated sigh. "She's the one who set this date up, remember? She wouldn't let me out of it if I was on fire. She's certainly not going to give me any easy ways to bail."
Rhys reached into his pocket and came out with a slim cell phone. "What's your mobile number?"
As she rattled off the number, she had time to nurse a secret, excited buzz because Rhys James had just, as Lilith would put it, hit her up for her digits. She also had time to wish every person she'd gone to high school with could be there to see it.
"All right." Rhys glanced up as the elevator doors opened and followed Rhett into the car. "Let me set up a reminder so I don't forget." His fingers pressed rapidly over the screen of his phone. "What time?"
"I'm supposed to meet him at seven," Rhett said.
"Taking your own car," Rhys said under his breath, still typing on his phone.
"Good girl. There, that's done." He looked up, eyes twinkling.
"I'll ring you just before quarter past, and if the date isn't all you'd hoped and dreamed...
" He paused with a grin at Rhett's indelicate snort.
"If it's shite, then you'll have a way out. "
"Thank you so much, Rhys." She smiled at him with gratitude. "I'd hate to be stuck on a crappy date all night."
"Hey, you never know. You might end up enjoying yourself and tell me to bugger off when I ring you."
A soft chime announced the elevator reached the fourteenth floor.
"Yeah, right," Rhett said as the doors opened. "That's gonna happen." She stepped out into the hall and turned back to say goodbye.
Rhys spoke before she could. "At least try to have fun." He stuck a plastic card into a slot on the elevator and pushed a button. "And if you can't have fun tonight, at least try to Wang Chung tonight."
Rhett burst out into surprised laughter as the door slid shut, cutting off the sight of the devilish grin on Rhys's face.
The clock on her car's dash read seven thirty-three when Rhett pulled back into the parking garage at Mel's building.
She jumped out of the car and walked as fast as her borrowed silver sandals would allow toward the elevator.
If she hurried, she could be in the shower in under five minutes, and though it wouldn't wash the memory of her date's lascivious gaze off her skin, it would be a damn good start toward putting this disastrous evening behind her.
Just as she reached the elevator, the doors slid open and Rhys stepped into the garage. He pulled up short at the sight of her, eyes wide.
"You're already home? I just spoke to you not fifteen minutes ago. What did you do, fly?"
Rhett shrugged one shoulder. "I might have run a few stop signs." She also exceeded every posted speed limit between the restaurant and condos. In her hurry to put maximum distance between herself and one Carl Keener she fled like the hounds of hell were on her tail.
"That bad, huh?" He winced in commiseration.
"Worse," she declared. "Seriously. Look up the term Date From Hell in the dictionary, and you'll see an eight-by-ten glossy of that twit I was with, along with a blur in the corner which is me running out of there.
" She shuddered. "I'd rather go out with Charles Manson than see Carl again.
I'm so glad you called and got me out of there. "
"Ah, Rhett, I'm sorry it ended up that way." Rhys stepped back and looked her up and down. "If it's any consolation, you look..."
When he didn't finish his sentence right away her palms began to sweat. Look what, for God's sake? Uncertainty made her nervous, and she tugged at the bodice of her navy blue silk dress. "What's wrong?"
His gaze rose from the rather short hemline of her dress, and Rhett noticed how long and dark his eyelashes were as he looked up through them. "Wrong? Not a thing," he said. "I was going to say that you look smokin' hot, but I thought that might sound too... too..."
"Too wonderful?" she blurted out. Mortified, she barely stopped herself from clapping a hand over her mouth.
His eyes opened a fraction of an inch wider, and Rhett realized his eyes were the same color as her dress. Damn. Navy blue eyes framed with thick, dark lashes. Now that was smokin' hot.
A slow smile spread across his face. "Well, if you don't think it's too forward of me, then, yes.
You look incredibly hot. In fact, you look much too good to end your evening this early.
I'm just stepping out for a bite, and since it was my call that made you miss your dinner, the least I can do is get you something to eat. "
Heat washed into her cheeks, and she hurried to explain lest he think the unintentional way she finished his sentence was her way of fishing for an invitation to join him. "That's okay. You don't have to.”
"I know I don't have to. I want to." Strands of honey-streaked hair tumbled over the shoulders of his olive green T-shirt as he tilted his head toward his car. "I won't take no for an answer. Come on."
Somehow she found her fingers clasped in his warm hand as he towed her toward his SUV, and she went with him, unable—and unwilling—to resist.