The Education of Caraline

His eyes softened. “Love you, too, Caro. Now get your ass in that shower, before I throw you in there.”


“Fine, fine,” I grumbled. “I’m going.”

He waited until he was sure I really was moving.

“I’ll meet you in the restaurant, Caro.”

“You’re not going to wait for me here?”

“Nope. I want to see you sweeping down that staircase, and have all the other bastards wanting you, but knowing I’ll be the one taking you to bed later.” He saw the expression on my face. “Humor me: it’s a guy thing.”

I shook my head. Honestly!

When I climbed out of the shower, the room was empty, except for my beautiful dress, which Sebastian had laid across the bed. I didn’t want to think how he’d got to be so good at choosing women’s clothing.

I hunted through the drawers until I found a hair dryer. Luckily I had some hairpins in my bag, and, after a couple of false starts, I managed to sweep my hair up into a reasonably smart chignon.

I realized then that Sebastian had laid another set of bags on the bed. What the hell had he done now? Inside the first was the most exquisite set of silvery-gray silk bra and panties, all chic and obviously designer: they must have cost a fortune. I’d never owned anything so glamorous in my life. In the second bag was a pair of high-heeled satin pumps in the same midnight blue as the dress. In my size. Of course. I dreaded to think how big a hole this had put in Sebastian’s savings. Things were going to get a lot tighter when we were married.

Married.

I hadn’t had time to think about what that really meant. I’d been married for 11 years from the age of 19, and they had been difficult and unhappy years. I’d promised myself I’d never marry again; and I’d had absolutely no intention of getting involved with a man in the armed forces. Nope, never, no way. And yet here I was: promising myself to Sebastian forever. It helped that he wasn’t planning on staying in the Marines, because there was no way I’d want to live on a military base ever again, despite my fascination with reporting from, and writing about them.

There were so many things Sebastian and I had to work out: we’d both been single for so long that blending our lives together wasn’t going to be easy.

I’d promised Sebastian we’d find a way. He deserved to be loved for everything he was. And for whatever crazy reason he had, he loved me, too.

I shimmied into the tiny silver panties, enjoying the whisper of the sheer material over my damp skin. The bra hugged my breasts and felt incredibly sensual. It made me feel sexy – and Sebastian had chosen them. And I realized that’s how he saw me, as someone desirable, someone he desired. Well, tonight I was going to do my best to live up to that.

I applied some mascara, cursing when I managed to deposit a gluey lump on my cheek. I had better luck with the lipstick: by some miracle, I’d managed to buy one that went on creamily and didn’t bleed. For the second night running, a stranger’s face stared back at me in the mirror.

But the dress… oh, the dress was something else. It was a floor-length, flowing gown, cut low at the back, and plunging dangerously at the front, and with a thigh-high slit that only revealed itself when I walked. And yet it was so cleverly constructed, that I felt safe – well, I wasn’t afraid that anything would be revealed by mistake. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be safe from Sebastian later. Damn, I was looking forward to that. I hoped he didn’t tear anything when he took it off me, because that would be a crying shame.

Before I left the room, I put the packet of condoms on the table next to my side of the bed: they’d need to be where we could find them in a hurry.

Now if I could just get down the main staircase without breaking my neck in those perilously high heels…

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