“It’s…very different. A little…overwhelming. But the hotel is wonderful.”
“Indeed.”
A flash of black and pink leaped out of the garden and materialized from behind Clarissa—the cat May had seen in the lobby. It stood, head tipped slightly, studying May as if considering her future worth.
Clarissa chuckled. “There you are, Eartha.”
“Eartha?”
“Eartha Kitty.” Clarissa smiled mischievously. “The official hotel cat. She has the run of the place. Showed up one day and never left. I have a catnip patch for her up here and she loves to chase insects.”
May crouched and extended a hand to the beautiful animal, speaking soothingly. The cat sat, curled her tail around herself and gave May a stare that would shame an empress. Next time May needed lessons in cool, she’d have to remember that look.
“So, have you visited the bar, Erotique?”
May shot Clarissa a sharp glance, but to all appearances, she was still concentrating on basil. “I was there last night.”
“Really?” Her voice was a little too casual. “Lovely isn’t it. And Shandi makes a fabulous Cosmopolitan.”
“How did you know I—” Her cell phone rang and she stood, pulling it out of her purse. “Excuse me. Hello?”
“Hey gorgeous, how was your appointment this morning?”
“Trevor!” May let out the cry of pleasure, then for some reason thought of her newly nude privates which Trevor wouldn’t get to see, and blushed. Then immediately had to banish an enticing image of Beck watching her touch herself the way she looked now. “Why aren’t you here?”
“I would be if I could, baby. Work is nuts, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’d rather be there with you.”
“Me, too.” She smiled into the phone and tried not to think how much she hated being called “baby.” Her fault for not saying something at the beginning of their friendship.
“So what’s your plan for this afternoon?”
She sighed. “I’m going home.”
“What?”
“I can’t let you spend this kind of money, Trevor. Not if you’re not here to enjoy it with me.”
She noticed the woman glancing curiously at her and turned away, tossing her head to move strands of hair the wind blew into her mouth.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She frowned. She didn’t sound that sure. A man’s tall athletic form caught her eye through a trellis and her heartbeat sped before she registered it wasn’t Beck and turned back toward Clarissa.
“Whatever you want. But I owe you the week, so if you decide to stay it’s fine. We can still reschedule another time soon. Just think about it.”
“Thanks, Trevor.”
“Hey, you’re entirely welcome. I just wish—” A woman’s voice sounded in the background. “I gotta go, babe, my appointment’s here. I’ll call you later.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll—” The phone clicked off in her ear and left May standing with her mouth forming more words that didn’t get to come out.
Obviously an important appointment.
Clarissa gave her another glance. May lifted her head to the breeze, thinking of the vast green tree-lined farmlands of her childhood and wondering philosophically how any child could thrive in this claustrophobic concrete wasteland, where gardens existed on roofs and in boxes as some kind of antidote to their surroundings, instead of an extension of them.
Because if she stood here wondering these things—philosophically of course—she wouldn’t have to wonder why something didn’t seem quite right about Trevor Little and this whole situation.
“How did you happen to come to New York?”
May looked sharply down at Clarissa, who’d moved closer to dig peacefully around some thyme, as if she hadn’t just been obviously eavesdropping and as if she thought it was her perfect right to ask personal questions. Eartha had disappeared, or she probably would have demanded a few details, too. May wanted to say “none of your business” but she wasn’t raised to be able to say that to people.
“To meet a friend here.”
“Trevor Little?”
May’s mouth dropped open. She was sure she hadn’t mentioned more than Trevor’s first name. “How do you know him?”
Clarissa serenely brushed a fly off her cheek and went back to the thyme. “Most of the staff at the hotel know Mr. Little.”
May froze with the phone halfway back into her purse. A cloud swept over the sun, in an absurdly melodramatic accompaniment to Clarissa’s statement.
“He…has some business dealings with the hotel?” Maybe? Please? With the cherry on top?
The pitying look Clarissa sent her was expected. “Trevor Little is often a guest here at Hush.”
The tiny bite of acid in her otherwise gentle tone told May everything she needed to know. Charming Trevor was a regular here with women, probably a different one every time, maybe sometimes two at once, perhaps an occasional animal, as well. That shouldn’t surprise her. Or shock her. Or disappoint her.
But of course it was doing all three. Damn.
So, okay, regroup. Just because this was a once-in-a-lifetime event for her didn’t mean it had to be for him. He brought women here all the time? Big deal. Not like he promised May romance forever. Not like she’d forgotten to bring a box of condoms to avoid catching anything icky.
“Did you enjoy your spa visit this morning?” Snips of thyme went into the basket and Clarissa moved gracefully on to the sage.
“How did you know about that?”
“Tuesday morning is always the spa appointment.”
May took a step toward her, her brain struggling against more unpleasant thoughts. Tuesday…always the spa appointment? For every woman he brought here? Trevor hadn’t called this morning and booked it especially for her?
God she was gullible. “The flowers yesterday?”
“I always arrange them myself.”
May nodded miserably. “Two dozen red roses on Mondays.”
“Lovely, aren’t they. Jewelry tomorrow and I think lingerie Thursday, then chocolate on Friday.”
May’s elegant spa luncheon threatened to turn inelegant on her. She wanted to run to the airport, fly home and dive into a half gallon of Häagen-Dazs Vanilla Swiss Almond, then get miracle-grow cream for her pubic hair to come back as fast as possible, so she could put this entire fiasco behind her. Maybe Dan was right, but dull and predictable had to be better than this.
Clarissa rocked back on her heels, then slowly up to standing, knees still bent as if they wouldn’t straighten quickly. “Oof. I’m getting too old for this job.”
“Let me get that.” May darted forward to lift the basket so Clarissa wouldn’t have to bend again.
“Thank you, dear.” Clarissa put a warm hand on May’s arm, and May caught a whiff of a light floral perfume amid the strong herbal scents from the basket. “I don’t want you to think I’m a gossip. I told you because you shouldn’t hesitate to spend as much of his money as possible. He has plenty and then some. Stay the week and have yourself a ball. It’s a lovely hotel, the city is peerless.”
May stooped to get the shears still on the edge of the herbal bed and held them out. “I don’t think I can do that.”