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“Trust me, if she were my girlfriend, you’d have heard about it.”
“Still didn’t tell you where she’s taking you?”
I shrugged. “I’d go anywhere if she’s taking me.”
She raised her eyebrows, just shy of laughter. I looked away, my face prickling.
“I didn’t mean for that to sound so romantic…”
“Damn, this side of you is fun to see. Well, have fun. I expect to hear about it. Tomorrow at the earliest, of course.”
She winked, turning away, and she tripped over her own foot, nearly falling flat on her face—stumbling a few steps and catching herself on a table, half the café looking at her. I suppressed a laugh.
“Always when I’m talking to London,” she muttered, and that hardly seemed fair, now, did it? I still loved her, though.
I paced my apartment for a while spilling my nerves to Earl—like I’d lost my mind talking to the cat, but hell, I was allowed to lose my mind over Cameron Mercier—and even though she’d told me to just wear whatever, I’d changed my outfit three times before I finally got the text that she was at my building. I took the steps two at a time, my heart in my mouth, and when I got down to the garage under the complex, I nearly tripped over my own feet at the sight of Cameron Mercier wildly outdressing me in a luxurious, silky gown in that soft blue she wore so well, stunning crystal accents and studded heels dressing it up until it looked like something she’d wear to a dinner with the President.
“You’re quick,” she said, leaning against her car. “Standing right at the door waiting for my text?”
I wasn’t admitting to that. “You tell me to wear whatever and you show up in that? Where are we going, the opera?”
She laughed. “Mm-hm.”
“The—seriously?” I gestured to myself, a loose blouse with slacks, a nice outfit but not opera nice.
“It’s not until late.” She offered me a hand. “So maybe I got jealous at the idea of someone else taking you dress shopping, and I wanted to take you to find an outfit for the opera.”
I was going to have to step up my dating game if I wanted remotely any chance with this woman. I laughed, breathlessly, taking her hand and letting her lead me to the passenger side. “Christ, woman. I just took you for dinner.”
“Well, if you want to try your hand at another date… I’ll let you ask and we’ll see what the answer is.”
Dammit, she was good.
I slipped into the passenger seat alongside her, and I felt giddy, nervous, like a teenager sneaking out of her parents’ house for a date—the whole thing almost clandestine in a way that thrilled through my body. Cameron gave me a loaded look as she started the car, turning back to the windshield.
“You can put on some music for the drive.”
“I’ve been getting into EDM…” I took the cable and plugged my phone in, and we drove smoothly out of the complex, turning onto where the streets were starting to dim, a dreamy indigo coming down over everything. Cameron and I made small talk on the way—just little things like work and the city, and it wasn’t long before we pulled into the lot behind a small shop that looked nothing like I’d have expected from somewhere Cameron Mercier would go. Honestly—the place looked a little seedy, squeezed in on a half-basement level under a noodle bar. I gave her a quick look, and she smiled slyly.
“Anya’s a good friend of mine. We can trust her.”
Well, I wasn’t questioning her. This woman knew what she was doing. “Lead the way,” I said, unbuckling.
She led me to the shop, just far enough apart for plausible deniability, and down the stairs into a dimly lit shop with clothes squeezed in on racks too tight to actually see what was there, mostly dresses, some coats. A brassy old bell jingled overhead when we walked in, and from the looks of things, we were the only ones here.
“Anya!” Cameron called. A rummaging came from the back, and a beat-up wood door swung open to where a woman maybe in her early fifties came through, light-toned skin with pale blonde hair pulled back into a sloppy bun. Cameron relaxed. “Anya, I was wondering if you were still alive down in your basement.”
Anya shook her head, tutting. “Some of us have been working, Cameron. And some of us have been off playing with girls.”
Cameron laughed, shaking her head before she turned to me. “London, this is Anya. As far as tailors go, you can’t do better in Miami. Probably can’t do better outside Miami, either.”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Save your flattery.”
“Anya, this is London… I believe I’ve mentioned her.”
I felt my ears burn, just a little. Something about meeting Cameron’s friends gave me butterflies. “Have you?” I said, giving Cameron a sidelong look before turning back to Anya. “Give it to me straight. How much has she complained about me?”
Anya let out a low chuckle, looking me over. “Oh, quite a bit. Almost nonstop every time we’ve talked lately…”
