A young man with sandy hair and handsome hazel eyes came forward to shake her hand.
Aiden nodded toward the other man. “And this is Cavanaugh. He’ll be your driver while we’re here.”
Cavanaugh was either a fitness trainer or a bodyguard, and she was betting on her second guess. He was tall and as solid as a hundred-year-old oak and had the neck to prove it. He, too, came forward to shake her hand. Then he gave her his card with his phone number.
“Keep this with you, please. I’ll be in the lobby,” he explained. “Whenever you’re ready, call or text me and I’ll bring the car around.”
She didn’t feel it was appropriate to argue because Cavanaugh was following orders, but she did not need a driver. It seemed a waste of his time to wait around for her.
“Aiden, may I have a word?”
He was flipping through some papers but paused to look at her. “What do you need?” he asked impatiently.
She turned back to Louis. “Did he say you’ll set my schedule?” she asked, wondering what exactly that meant.
Louis handed her a sheet of stationery with times and locations listed. “I took the liberty of making an appointment for you at Chasnoff’s dress shop first. It’s quite exclusive and isn’t open to the public,” he explained. “It’s by appointment only, and you’re scheduled for eleven o’clock this morning. The owner has been given approximate specifications and should have a good selection of ball gowns for you to try on.”
“By ‘approximate specifications’ you mean measurements?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Who came up with my measurements?”
“I did,” Aiden said, grinning. “I guessed.”
She didn’t know what to say, but the bell saved her from the awkward conversation. Louis opened the door for a waiter who pushed in a cart filled with food. He went to the dining table, set two places, and proceeded to lay out a spread worthy of a king. Besides the usual breakfast fare of eggs, bacon, scones, yogurt, and granola, there was a huge bowl of every kind of fruit imaginable.
Louis handed Cordie a card with his cell phone number, and then he and Cavanaugh left. She immediately headed to the refrigerator to get her Diet Coke. She put ice in a glass and carried the bottle over to the table and sat. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she took a bite of the buttery scone.
Aiden joined her. “I’ve got meetings all day,” he said as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the silver carafe. “But I wanted to talk to you before I left.”
“Okay. What would you like to talk about?” she asked as she popped a plump, ripe strawberry into her mouth.
“The Rayburns,” he said. “They’re a prominent family here in Sydney, and their status comes primarily from Simone’s family owning Merrick Enterprises. Craig and Simone are a power couple. Craig Rayburn works for Merrick, and he’s become quite wealthy because of it. From the lifestyle he lives, he certainly knows how to spend money.”
“Which is probably why Simone married him. Money is important to her. It certainly wasn’t because of his looks. Though it’s cruel of me to say, he reminds me of a bulldog.”
Aiden laughed. “I think the photo of the family that Alec found was fairly recent . . . and now that you mention it, he did look a little like a bulldog.”
Serious once again, Aiden continued. “Craig and Simone have become pillars of the community. They’re major benefactors to half a dozen institutions, everything from hospitals to universities. They’re often seen together at various functions. By all accounts, the Rayburns are a model family, and the sons treat their mother like a queen.”
Cordie pushed her plate away. The thought of Simone surrounded by an adoring family made her suddenly lose her appetite.
Aiden continued. “You’re about to drop a grenade into their lives. We need to anticipate their reaction.”
He’d included himself in the plan, and she thought that was terribly nice of him. Aiden could actually be very considerate and kind when he wanted to be. In fact, on numerous occasions she’d seen him come to the rescue of someone who needed help. Yes, he was domineering and bossy, but when he let his guard down, there was definitely a softer side to him. Maybe it was jet lag, but right now all she could think about was kissing him. She suddenly realized she was staring at his mouth, so she closed her eyes and took a breath. Get a little control, she told herself.
“Are you falling asleep on me?” Aiden asked, shaking her from her fantasy.
She laughed. “Just jet leg.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“About the grenade? Yes, I did.”
“I don’t like going in without a plan, so you’ve got until tomorrow night to decide exactly what you want to do. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
She watched him pick up his cell phone and keys, slip them into his pocket. He opened his briefcase and deposited the papers he’d been reading earlier. “If you need anything, just ask Louis.” He snapped the case closed and walked out the door.
Cordie checked her watch. It was almost eleven, so she went to her room and called for the car. Cavanaugh was waiting just inside the lobby doors. It was a beautiful day, a bit on the chilly side, in the high fifties, and she was glad she’d carried along a lightweight coat. Cavanaugh reminded her that it was winter now in Sydney, which made her smile. Compared to winter in Chicago and Boston, Sydney was Utopia. Traffic was just as congested, though. It took a long while to get to the dress shop. There wasn’t a name on the door, and there wasn’t a front window with pretty dresses on display. It was almost as though Chasnoff’s was hiding the fact that it was in business.
Miss Marie, an older woman with a no-nonsense attitude, met her at the door and introduced herself. She took Cordie by the arm and led her into the back of the shop, where a seamstress waited along with two salesladies eager to assist. The room Cordie was ushered into didn’t have any windows, but the white walls and white carpet made it seem quite large. There were three wingback chairs in a semicircle, and directly ahead was a carpet-covered circular platform that faced three huge mirrors guaranteed to show every flaw.
Miss Marie was thrilled with Cordie’s figure. “It’s about time I dressed someone who isn’t built like a stick. And those eyes. Your fabulous eyes. You must wear a sapphire-blue gown. I insist. You really are stunning, you know.”
No, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure how to respond to the exaggerated compliments. Stunning? Miss Marie was obviously nearsighted.
“We’ll take care of everything,” she continued. “Your undergarments, makeup, gowns, and dresses, and of course wraps. Shall we get started?”
“I just need one ball gown,” Cordie explained.
“Those weren’t my instructions from Mr. Madison,” she replied.
Cordie tried to argue, but Miss Marie wasn’t paying her any attention. For the next three and a half hours Cordie tried on beautiful gowns and dresses and skirts and wonderful silk blouses. Miss Marie and her staff treated her like a mannequin, tugging and pulling and pretty much ignoring any of her opinions, but once Miss Marie was finished, Cordie had a new name for her . . . Miracle Worker.
Cavanaugh was waiting for her when she walked out of the shop. He drove her back to the hotel by way of a scenic route. She had wanted to experience some of the city, but jet lag wasn’t through with her. All she wanted now was a hot bath and a bed.