Her Best Match: A Romantic Comedy (The Best Girls Book 1) (10 page)

“What about Gherring?” asked Anne.

“Gherring? You told me he is taking someone else. He has asked you to go with him?”

“No, but up until a few minutes ago, he seemed to dislike you a lot. And he didn’t want me to go out with you.”

“Is Gherring your father? You must ask permission?”

“No Henri—that’s not fair. I just don’t want to appear spiteful. It is
his
event, and he’s my boss. I’m trying to be respectful, even though I’m not very good at it…”

“
Pardon moi
. You are right to have respect. But he said all is well between us, I promise. He knows now, I am not as bad as my reputation. I think he has had a similar experience with reputation. And we will stay across the room and not even go around him, not near him—the party is big,
énorme, infini, vaste
. Gherring will never know you are there…”

“Okay, okay.”

“Okay? That means yes? Okay yes?” His green eyes peered fervently at Anne’s.

“Yes, yes I’ll go with you.”

“What!” exclaimed Katie. “Are you kidding me? Really? Henri asked you to the gala? I can’t believe he never asked me.”

“But you’re
engaged
.”

“Well I am now, but Henri’s been coming to the international business gala long before I was engaged.”

“And Henri is way too old for you anyway. He’s
my
age.”

“Well he’s been going out with girls younger than me in the past, and I certainly don’t think he’s too old for me. I’m so jealous. Henri is sooooo hot.”

“But Katie—”

“Oh don’t worry—I’m just kidding. I’m happily in love, so don’t fret. I’ve just always lusted over Henri a bit.”

“Well, he is kind of cute.”

“Kind of cute? That’s the understatement of the year. You’re a lucky dog. All these years I’ve done the preparation and planning, but I’ve never gotten to go to the bash. And you get to go after your first two weeks on the job. Plus, you get to go with Henri, who is smokin’ hot. But wait… We’ve got to get you ready for the party.”

“What do you mean? It’s not until tomorrow night.”

“But you need to go to the spa, get your hair done, get your makeup done.”

Anne’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh I couldn’t do that. I’ve never had my makeup done. I don’t even wear much makeup. And I wouldn’t know where to go. Anyway, it would cost too much.”

“I have a connection, a friend who’s just getting started in the business. She’s great, but she needs publicity. If she could just post your picture to advertise, she’ll give you a great deal, I’m sure of it.”

“Well, maybe. But I don’t really have time. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow—”

“Nope, you’re taking a personal leave day tomorrow. I’ll wrap up all the details for the event. I’ve done it by myself before.”

“But won’t Mr. Gherring be mad?”

“Gherring will be so busy with meetings he probably won’t notice. But if he asks, I’ll just tell him you had a family emergency.”

“But that would be a lie.”

“No, it’s true. You
are
part of a family—you’re the mom. And this is an emergency.”

Anne’s cell phone sounded a musical refrain of a classic Joe Walsh song about a fast Maserati. Anne struggled to answer the call with her paraffin-dipped hands in plastic bags, trying vainly not to disturb the green mud on her face. “Hey Charlie, I can’t talk for long, I’m in the middle of a spa treatment to make me beautiful, although it seems to be doing the opposite. I look quite frightful.”

“So you’re spending the day getting ready for the big date with the French playboy? And tonight, Emily says, you’re wearing Giselle?”

“Yes, Katie came over last night. She took one look at Giselle and insisted I wear her tonight. I thought my red one might be better.”

“Ughh, Mom. That dress was outdated twenty years ago, which is probably the last time you wore it.”

“Well classics never go out of style.”

“I guess that about says it all, because that dress is definitely not a classic. Trust me, Mom. Didn’t Emily and I tell you to leave the red one at home? Anyway, you’ll look great in Giselle. I’m glad I have your genes, so I’ll still look hot when I’m old like you.”

“Ah-hem! Old like me?”

“Sorry, you know I don’t think you’re old.” Charlie laughed. “But you do look pretty good for the mom of a twenty three year old.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, ’cause right now I feel pretty ugly. But I do feel pampered. I already had a hot rock massage, and my hands and feet have been rubbed and seasoned and dipped in wax, and I have a goopy mask on my face. I feel like a turkey that’s getting ready to go in the oven.”

Charlie cracked up. “Now I have this picture in my head of a big stuffed turkey with your head on it. Are you getting your hair cut?”

“Evidently I’m getting a total makeover, complete with a haircut and some highlights. Josie says they will ‘blend with the gray hairs’. But what I’m really worried about is the shoes for tonight.”

“Aren’t you wearing those super sexy black strappy sandals Emily gave you? They go perfectly with Giselle, and they are sooooo cute.”

“Yes but the heels are sooooo high. And I’m sooooo clumsy.”

“Yep, you are a bit clumsy. I forgot what you looked like trying to walk in those heels. But you just need practice—nobody is born with the ability to walk in spike heels.”

Anne squinted one eye as she considered practicing. “That might work, or I could just wear my black flats.”

“No way. That’s the reason Emily and I bought that dress, remember? It’s extra long. You have to wear heels or you’ll walk all over it. And you’re shorter than both of us. Here’s what you do… Carry the shoes until you’re in the taxi. You can hold on to Henri for balance while you’re at the party until you get to a chair.”

“Fine, I’ll just cling to Henri tonight. I can think of worse things.”

“I can’t wait for a report. Get someone to take a picture of you and Henri and text it to us.”

“I’ll do it. I feel like I’m getting ready to go to prom.”

“It’s more like you’re Cinderella going to the ball with the prince.”

Anne stared at herself in the mirror, or at least she thought that was her face. The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the woman that got up at five a.m. to run on the treadmill. Her hair was the same soft brown color, but the new highlights gave it a healthy shine. The tresses hung in loose curls, framing her face. Her eyes looked huge and exotic—the wonders of an eyelash curler and mascara, combined with some smoky eye shadow. Her lips looked fuller with a light pink sheer gloss.

The halter-top of the black silky dress was cut deeply in front, but the girls had sent her with a special tape to keep everything securely in place with no gaping. Anne was self-conscious about the plunging neckline, although she was small enough nothing was revealed. The back of the dress dipped low on her spine, her back looking smooth with its recent spray tan. She leaned forward and backward and raised her hands experimentally, making sure nothing important was exposed. The material fell in curve-hugging swaths with a side slit that bared her leg from the knee down. Satisfied with the modesty of the dress, such as it was, she picked up her wrap and headed for the lobby.

She entered the lobby to find Henri chatting and flirting with Rayna. She observed he was even more handsome—if that was possible—in his tuxedo. When he spotted Anne, his mouth fell open. “
Mon dieu
! I am in heaven.
Tu es
un ange
. An angel from heaven.”

Anne felt her face flush with embarrassment. She walked slowly toward him, attempting to look stately, but actually working to keep her balance. Henri crossed the room to her side, and she gratefully took his proffered arm.

Rayna was practically jumping up and down. “Anne, you look great—like a movie star.”

Anne started laughing. “I can’t keep up the pretense. I’m so awkward in these shoes. If y’all just knew—” She stuck out a foot to exhibit the spiky heel. “This is not me. I’m so much more comfortable in jeans and a tee shirt with flat sandals.”

“But you look amazing. You were just hiding all this in those frumpy clothes,” said Rayna.

“And I am happy to stay so close to you so you will not fall. It will be our secret,
notre secret
. This way I can touch you all night.” Henri tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “And no one can steal my angel,
mon bel ange
.”

Anne felt the flex of Henri’s strong arm and realized she felt secure with him. She wondered at the irony of feeling safe on the arm of a notorious French playboy.

“Rayna, would you take our picture?” Anne held out her phone. “I promised the girls I would text them a picture.” Rayna snapped a few photos, and Anne sent the texts to Charlie and Emily.

“Please. Will you send a picture to me?
Moi et mon bel ange
.” Henri entered his cell number. “This is a new number. This number will reach me in Paris.”

Anne flushed as Rayna silently mouthed, “Oh-my-god.”

“Mademoiselle,” said Henri. “You are ready?”

Anne took a deep breath and returned a shaky smile. “Let’s go.”

This time, Henri had ordered a limousine rather than a taxi. There was a small group of society reporters gathered at the hotel entrance, snapping pictures and snagging interviews as guests departed the limos. Anne tried vainly not to be noticed, the task made more difficult because Henri basked in the attention. He stopped to converse with several of the journalists he knew, while Anne attempted to be inconspicuous. Henri unrepentantly told them his date for the evening was “an angel from Texas”. When one of the reporters joked he didn’t know there were angels in Texas, Henri declared there was only one angel from Texas, and she was in New York with him now. He flashed his white smile, while Anne burned crimson with embarrassment.

Henri talked animatedly as they walked through the lobby toward the Grand Ballroom. But Anne tugged on his arm. “Wait, Henri… I’m not ready. I’m nervous.”

“No need to be nervous. I will not leave you, and my arm is yours.”

“And we’ll avoid Steven Gherring?”

“We will stay far, far from Steven Gherring.” Henri smiled and led her into the ballroom.

As they entered the ballroom, Anne was filled with trepidation. Why had she agreed to go to this event with Henri? She would make a fool of herself and Henri as well. Anne knew more than nine hundred people had responded affirmatively for the gala, but she was somehow still overwhelmed by the mass of people, all clad in tuxedos and evening gowns.

The ballroom was large and separated into distinct areas. On one side was a buffet and adjacent to that an open bar. Sixty round bar-height tables with tall chairs were available for guests to utilize. However, the majority of the guests were milling about in the main center area, which provided a multitude of tall tables on which they could stash their refreshments. Waiters filtered through the crowd, offering trays of red and white wines, sparkling waters, and various hors d’oeuvres. In the back of the room a jazz band played on a small stage adjacent to the dance floor, their melodies a soft background in the vast hall.

True to his word, Henri spotted Gherring across the large hall and guided Anne away to the other side. He walked slowly, allowing Anne to navigate smoothly through the room. Henri stopped to talk with friends and associates, always introducing her as Anne, his angel from Texas.

Her nerves gradually dissipated, and soon she was laughing and talking, as a rather large group joined in their banter. The international visitors were curious about Texas and particularly intrigued with her drawl. She gave tourist advice to several couples that were planning to spend time in Texas before leaving the country.

“My favorite places are in the Hill Country. You’ve
got
to go to the River Walk in San Antonio. Y’all should visit SoCo in Austin.” She ticked off the sites on her fingers. “And y’all should go to Fort Worth and see the Botanical Gardens. It’s even pretty in the winter.” She forgot her earlier worries, enjoying the chance to meet interesting people from New York and around the globe.

As one gentleman was recounting a humorous story, he stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes riveted over Anne’s shoulder. She heard a deep voice behind her. “Good evening, Ms. Best, Henri.” She turned to see Steven Gherring standing directly behind her. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Henri voice was stiff. “Your reception is magnificent, as usual.”

Anne twisted toward Gherring while frantically clutching Henri’s arm, trying to still her shaking hands.

“Ms. Best, I hope your, uhmm, ‘family emergency’ is much improved?”

Anne was mortified. “I’m sorry Mr. Gherring. I didn’t want to lie to you. Katie said she could handle everything, so I took the day to go to the spa. You should fire me. I can’t even believe I did it. It’s really not like me to lie or skip work. I never even played hooky from school—not one day. I’m sorry—”

“Ms. Best—” Gherring interrupted. But Anne continued in her apology.

“I really am sorry. It was just a waste of time—”

“Anne! You’re
not
fired.” He continued softly, “And your day at the spa was certainly not a waste of time.” His eyes raked up and down appraisingly with a hint of a smile on his lips. “Not a waste at all.”

Anne felt the blood rush to her face. He’d called her by her first name. And was he complimenting her? Surely not. He must be teasing her.

She searched her mind for a way to control the conversation. “Where’s Ms. Milan?”

Gherring glanced about the room and shrugged. “Oh she’s here somewhere, networking and publicizing.” He turned to Henri who’d been silently on guard. “Henri, can you spare a moment? I need to speak with you… privately.”

Henri caught Anne’s eyes with a silent question. “I’ll be fine,” she said, carefully releasing his arm. She joined back in her former conversation, standing unsupported while watching Gherring and Henri from the corner of her eye. The discussion was earnest, but she was relieved to find neither party seemed agitated. Gherring walked back with Henri who took his place at Anne’s side.