no alterations were allowed to any of the garments, the dresses our models will wear tonight are recreations of the originals you see in the cases. As is this.”
She stepped from behind the lectern and walked to the head of the raised runway that had been set up in the center of the room. She paused a moment, more to calm her nerves than to showcase the dress, although it surely deserved the spotlight.
Even though she was far more at home in jeans and a sweater, Kelly had to admit there had been something completely sensuous about slipping the flame-red evening gown over her head. With a whisper of silk, it had settled around her hips and breasts like a glove.
Behind her, the voice of the professional announcer picked up where she had left off. “As any couturier will tell you, in order to truly understand the magic of a garment, it is necessary to see it worn. Therefore, we’ve arranged a very special showing for you tonight.”
Carefully coached in the same glide the professional models would use, Kelly began her journey down the runway. The chorus of oohs that followed her was proof that her advisors had been right about the gown. Both the color and its strapless design made it a showstopper. Or in this case, a show starter.
“Miss Lockett is modeling a copy of a vintage Givenchy with matching stole. The dress was created for Audrey Hepburn, the designer’s favorite star, to wear in the film Funny Face. I’m sure you all remember the scene in which Miss Hepburn descends the stairs at the Louvre wearing this same gown.”
According to the script, at that exact moment Kelly should have reached the end of the runway, which jutted out into the middle of the room. In front of her was a series of six steps that led down to the floor of the ballroom. Just as Hepburn had in the movie, she raised her arms to shoulder height, displaying the matching red silk stole, before she started down the steps.
“I’ll tell you in confidence that there isn’t a single prebid on this one,” the smooth voice from the stage behind her went on. “We’ve saved it just for you.”
Kelly had been advised to pick out a couple of people in the crowd to smile or nod to as she descended. She had begun searching the faces around her, looking for a familiar one, when her gaze seemed to lock on a masculine profile. Its features, silhouetted against the lights from the back of the room, were clean and strong, as classically proportioned as if they had been graven on some ancient coin.
At that exact moment, the man turned his head, his eyes meeting and holding hers. She couldn’t have said what color they were. Or even what he looked like. All she knew was that he was dark—both eyes and hair. Handsome in a rugged, completely masculine kind of way. Compelling.
Obviously, she thought, relieved when her stride carried her past the table where he was sitting. Although she continued along the predestined route all the models would take, designed to let the guests have a closer look at the garments, she had to resist the urge to turn her head and glance back at him over her shoulder.
And that was totally out of character. Especially given what had been happening in her life during the last few months.
Finally, thankfully, she reached the end of her performance. Before her were the double doors that led out of the ballroom and back to anonymity, with which she was far more comfortable.
Behind her she heard the auctioneer open the bidding on the original of the Givenchy knock-off she was wearing. The next couple of hours would be someone else’s responsibility—his and the other professionals hired from one of the top New York fashion houses. And she was more than ready to hand it over.
As she met the eyes of the security guard at the door, he nodded to her. The gesture somehow reminded her of her strange reaction to the man seated at the foot of the runway steps.
Again she had to force herself not to turn around and search the crowd for him. Of course, it wouldn’t matter if she did. All she would be able to see from here was that same sea of people she had faced before. She wouldn’t be able to pick him out. And if she encountered him again…
She wouldn’t be able to recognize him, she told herself resolutely. What had just occurred had been one of those bizarre incidents that happen to everyone at one time or another. Meeting the eyes of the handsome man in the cab next to you while you waited for a red light. Or in an elevator. Or a restaurant. It was absolutely nothing of consequence.
Which was good, she thought, as she slipped through the doors and out into the hall. She couldn’t afford any distractions. Certainly not one as time-consuming as a man like that might prove to be.
IN THE END it was after two o’clock before Kelly managed her escape, slipping out of the ballroom by a back door. Chad would have teased that that was the story of her life, she acknowledged, as she stood watching the numbers flash by on the parking-deck elevator, but she refused to feel guilty. Most of the crowd had gone. She had done her duty. Paid her dues. Made nice to anyone with a checkbook. Now she was going home.
She hadn’t bothered to change out of the copy of the Givenchy she’d modeled. She would return it later.
The elevator doors opened and she stepped out, pulling the red stole more closely around her shoulders. After the heat of the ballroom, the night air felt cool against her skin.
She was surprised to find there were only a handful of cars left on this level. Of course, it had been reserved for those who would come early and leave late. And it seemed that despite her remorse at slipping out early, she must be one of the last to depart.
She started across the concrete, the sound of her high-heeled sandals echoing off steel beams and cement pillars. She expected the security guard to step out of his booth in response to the noise. He didn’t, however, and as she came closer to the location, she could tell that the security box was empty.
She glanced at her watch, but it was too dark to see the hands. Maybe security had gone off duty. That was something she should probably mention to the board when they met to rehash tonight’s successes and failures. Their patrons had a right to protection, no matter how late they stayed.
Her car, which was actually Chad’s car, was parked halfway up the far ramp. Before she headed over to it, she bent her head a little to take another look into the security booth. Definitely empty.
She stopped at the bottom of the ramp. Putting one hand on the cold metal of its railing for balance, she bent her knee, pulling the strap of her sandal more securely onto her heel.
She resisted the temptation to slip the shoes off. Despite the fact that they consisted of only a couple of crossed pieces of leather, by now the sandals had begun to rub. She could imagine what walking barefoot over the rough concrete of the ramp would do to her feet, however.
She looked up to estimate the distance to her car and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a shadow moving behind or under it. A rat? Or one of the city’s feral cats? There were plenty of both in D.C., but despite her attempt to find some rational, nonthreatening explanation for what she had just seen, the hair on the back of her neck began to lift, sending a shiver down her spine.
She looked again toward the security booth, an oasis of light in the dimness of the concrete structure, and then once more toward her car. The darkness increased sharply near the top of the ramp where it was parked.
Back to the elevator, she decided without any further hesitation. This time she would do what she should have done in the first place. She would get someone to walk her out here. Whatever was waiting in the shadows up there, she wasn’t about to face it on her own.
