Sexy Love (Sexy Series Book 4) (6 page)

Everybody laughs and then the room stills for a moment as Bea simply gazes at the gown. After an eternity, she nods gently. “I don’t want to try anymore. This is what I have dreamed of my entire life. I want this dress. I want to marry my Daniel dressed in this.”

“Beatrice,” Joyce says, her voice raspy, as ever, “are you sure, sweetie It’s a huge decision. I mean, I agree, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone try this gown and look quite as glamorous in it as you, but are you really sure you don’t want to make sure there isn’t one on this rail that can out-do even this one?”

Bea simply shakes her head slowly, not taking an eye off the mirror. “No. I don’t want anything else. I want this one.”

We all admire the dress in silence for a moment or two, until Bea nods again, certainty clear on her face. “Yes, this is it. This is definitely it.”

I’m amazed that she found her dream dress having just tried on the one, but it really is the most perfectly created dress for her, the stunning fitted cut compliments her figure beautifully. It hugs her body tightly to the knees where it elegantly fans into a very subtle fishtail.  The long sleeves elongate her slender arms with the cuffs slightly loose and skimming the tops of her hands exquisitely.

The fabric is a rich, indulgent shade of ivory - not too white, not too cream... just right. The deep ‘V’ at the front of the dress between the breasts could be seen as risqué, but on Bea, however, it seems to work elegantly, with the delicate skin of her chest and sternum on display, without cleavage. And the intricately designed, beaded waistband that accentuates the bottom of the ‘V’ with a similar shape, really shows off Bea’s tiny waist, and with matching beaded shoulders the whole dress just comes together.

The back of the dress is just as charming, if not more striking than the front. The ‘V’ at the back matches that of the front, only this one dips all the way down to the very bottom of Bea’s back, the beaded waistband the only thing crossing her naked skin. Small, fabric buttons run down from the bottom of the ‘V’ to the end of the small, subtle train. One very thin beaded string runs from shoulder to shoulder, behind her neck.

If I were getting married, this dress would definitely be a massive contender for me. Well, it would have been if my brother’s wife wasn’t getting married in it… and
if
I was getting married, which I’m not any time soon, if ever, so I don’t need to think about anything like that; I don’t even know why I am, so let’s move on.

My cell disturbs me yet again as I stare at Bea, absorbing the joy of this wonderful moment, the look on her face as her wedding dress dream materialises and watching on as her best friend melts for her.

And there it goes again, fucking thing. That’s it, I need to put it on silent, it’s driving me insane. Normally I hear it beeping and buzzing away without having a problem with it, but I’m doing something non-work related that is so much more important!

“For God’s sake,” I mumble, tearing my eyes away from Bea to reach down to my purse to grab my cell.

“What’s up?” Bea asks, keeping her eyes firmly on the dress in the mirror.

“Oh nothing, I’m sorry. Work keeps emailing and texting me so I’m just going to put it on sil…” I pause looking down at the screen when I see a notification pop up with Sebastian’s name on it.

I’m obviously frowning or looking confused because both Bea and Tilly enquire simultaneously. “What’s wrong?”

I look up, snapping myself out of whatever trance I’m in and giggle slightly at their synchronised delivery. “Oh nothing, it’s just that I have a text message from Sebastian…” I add, slowly.

“Ooh, what does it say? Does he want to bang you on Californian soil?” Tilly asks excitedly and Bea laughs, scolding her.

“Tilly! You know Lex isn’t like that! Have you read it yet, Lex?”

I shake my head. “Well, open it, numpty, you’re never going to know what he wants if you just look at your closed inbox.” Tilly says and I take her words in, but don’t react; I’m a little nervous, I haven’t heard from him since that text message after the day at Highland Bowl - over three months ago.

“Er… um, sure, yes,” I say, feeling a lot more discombobulated than normal around these ladies.

I open the message tentatively, wondering how I’m going to feel when I read it. I have no idea why I’m nervous, no man has ever made me nervous and it’s not like I fancy the guy or anything.

~

LOVE, SEBASTIAN

iMessage

Today 3:17

Sexy Lexie! How are you? It’s been a while; I’ve missed you! I’ve been so busy but just landed back in LA and have been thinking of you. Would you care to join me for some dinner this evening? I would love to see you. S x

~

I sigh as a flutter of excitement irritatingly dances in my stomach. I don’t want to get excited by him – I don’t even know why I am. Maybe it’s just because I want him to want me… though I really don’t think I do. Do I? Why the hell don’t I know myself anymore?

“So… what does he want?” Tilly asks, and as I look up, I realise they’ve been staring at me this whole time, waiting for me to read the message.

“Oh! Sorry, um… he wants to take me to dinner tonight.”

“Ooh, you should go,” she says, immediately.

“No, I’ve agreed to go for drinks with you guys.” I say, glad for an excuse not to go, but also, somewhere really deep down - disappointed.

“So come for drinks with us and meet him afterwards – you can do both!” Bea says excitedly.

“Yeah! Do it! Get banged darlin’” Tilly adds in her usual, blunt style.

“I am most certainly not getting ‘banged’ as you so nicely put it, and even if I was, it would
not
be by Sebastian Love!”

“Yeah, yeah, you two have sexual chemistry like Rizzo and Kenickie. You’ve got to get that shit together!”

I shake my head. “Tilly, please. We’re not going to… do that. We’re just acquaintances. Maybe friends.”

“Uh huh. Friends that pash like maniacs for half an hour in the middle of a nightclub in full view of everybody.”

I grimace as I listen, thoroughly embarrassed. Joyce and her assistant are both within earshot and I’d really rather not be having this conversation right now. “Okay, thank you, Tilly. We all remember that night with great clarity, it really doesn’t need to be brought up at every given opportunity,” I say with a jovially reprimanding glare.

“Tilly!” Bea scolds. “Leave her alone.” She addresses me having given Tilly a silencing look. “Just go, it’ll be fun to do something different, hmm?”

She does have a point, I only ever seem to go for business dinners or out with my extended family – and as much as I enjoy that, it would be nice to do something with someone different.

I did start to really enjoy his company towards the end of our trip, and if we’re just friends – what harm is there?  I definitely won’t get wasted like the other times - and it’ll be good. No naughty business, just friends. Dinner, friends… done.

“Yes, I suppose it would be. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, of course not! We were only planning on having a few anyway – it might turn into a night out but it might not. I think you should definitely go with Sebastian.”

I nod, thinking fully about it. I think my mind has been made up; I’m going. I hope I’m not getting myself into anything difficult here. I shall let him know that our meeting is purely platonic from the start and hopefully we’ll both be able to enjoy a pleasant meal together, discussing work, Aspen… those kinds of commonplace, friendly subjects.

I look back down at my phone and press reply.

~

Today 3:22

Hello, Sebastian. I’m well thank you; I trust you are, too? I’m currently with Bea and Tilly, we’re heading out for drinks soon but I should be available later, so yes; dinner would be lovely, thank you. What time would best suit you?

Delivered

~

Well. I’m definitely going now! With that sent and my cell firmly back in my purse, I return to the real world where Bea is taking her time to really absorb every last feature of her chosen gown.

“You going?” Tilly asks and I nod, trying not to give off any obvious signs of excitement or nervousness.

“Good for you. And it’s not like you need to change or anything, you’re looking smoking today.”

“Oh shit, I hadn’t even thought of that,” I say, pulling my arms backwards and looking down at myself, critically.

“No! Seriously, leave those clothes on!” she shouts, drawing attention to us as she always does.

“Er… is someone getting naked?” Bea asks, amused, clearly not having heard the conversation.

“No, no, no. Tilly was just saying that I don’t need to change clothes before I go for dinner.” I say, trying to reassure everyone that nothing untoward is going on over here.

“Oh, yeah. Defo,” she says, turning back to the mirror and running her fingers down the silky fabric of the dress. “You look great, as always. Besides, he asked you last minute and you already have plans up until then, he’ll just
have
to like what you’re wearing.”

She has a spectacularly good point. He’ll get what he gets and that’s just the way it is. I’m not trying to impress him, and I’m not going out of my way to change for him. I am Alexia Berkeley and if you want to take me for dinner, you’ll take me for dinner in whatever the hell I want to damn well wear. If I’m in work clothes, deal with it.

And to be honest, my tailored navy skirt suit is actually one of my favourites; it’s cut just close enough to be appropriate, but also feels quite sexy at the same time. My ivory silk blouse serves a purpose well, and my navy Louboutin pumps would suit any occasion.

Yes, I’m all good.

I shake my head of thoughts of Sebastian, dinner and sex… er, I mean clothes, and focus back on Bea. “So, now that we have the dress, what comes next?”

“Well, I have been trying to decide whether or not to wear a veil. What do you girls think, based on this dress?”

“I dunno,” Tilly says, tilting her head and squinting. “I mean, the back of the dress is such a feature, I don’t know if you should hide that, but at the same time – it might be nice to have a veil cover your back for the ceremony and then when it’s time to let your hair down, take it off and reveal the flesh.”

I nod in agreement, “Uh huh, I think Til has a great point. The dress does have long sleeves, so I don’t think a veil is an absolute necessity, don’t forget it’ll be July so you’ll be hot - but if you do want one, I think using it to change the look of the dress for day and night is a great idea.”

“I’ll tell you what, girls,” Joyce’s distinctively rough voice startles me, “let’s get you some to try, hmm?” She nods to herself as she sweeps over to a rail and flicks through an array of clear plastic clothes bags filled with fluffy white tulle. They all look the same to me but I suppose that’s why Joyce is the one carefully selecting gowns for the Brides-to-be of Beverly Hills, and I sit behind my desk at HBHQ.

She takes tiny, fast steps back over to the open fitting room with an armful of bags, and hangs them on another rail. My eyes can’t help but draw to her chubby, blinged-up fingers, unzipping the bags. Those long orange nails don’t seem to hinder her in the slightest. It’s bothering me to think how uncomfortable it must be to have such swollen fingers squeezed into all of those huge rings, and to have great talons like those on the end of them. How on earth do her knuckles bend? And more importantly, how on earth does she do her make-up?

I look down at my long, thin fingers with medium length, natural American (as opposed to garish French) manicured nails, and I mentally kiss them. Thank you Universe, for my nimble, young hands and my heaven sent, tasteful nail technician. I will be eternally grateful.

When I look back up, she’s standing on a stool, carefully placing a comb on the top of Bea’s head with a huge burst of bright white tulle exploding from it. It’s vile. I hope to God that Bea doesn’t like this because I don’t think I could pretend. She looks like one of those lizards with the big frilly fans bursting from their necks… only this is coming from her head. That’s worse.

Joyce steps back, clutching her hands in front of her. “What do you think of this one?”

I tilt my head to the side as if I’m trying to decide, wondering if she and I are looking at the same thing. Given the dress she so perfectly picked out, how does she even need to ask that question?

“Oh God,” Tilly says loudly, looking up from a book of testimonies, “definitely not that. It looks like someone has vomited the eighties on you. Why not add some neon lace? Next!”

I laugh out loud, glad that she feels able to be so vocal about her thoughts. I would probably have encouraged Bea to try a different one, but Tilly just hits the nail on the head, every time.

Bea laughs with me as she looks in the mirror. “Thanks for your feedback, Til, but, er… yeah. Do you have something maybe a little more… subtle?” she asks Joyce in the most polite way possible, given Tilly’s tactless rant.

“Of course,” she says, fingering the clothes bags again.

“Um, excuse me… Joyce?” her assistant whispers, nervously.

“Yes?” she barks.

“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt. I think a new ivory veil came in this morning, from the same designer as the dress… shall I check?”