Sylvia nodded. “Yes, that’s her. You have an eye for fashion. Remind me to buy you the best sewing machine on the market for Christmas.”
“Which is right around the corner. By the way, thank you again for giving me a whole guest room to use for my sewing projects, Aunt Sylvia. It gives me a lot of joy,” she said. “I can’t wait to get home to finish my current project.”
“You are as reclusive as I am, child,” Sylvia remarked. “Back to Nora. I’ve been watching her, and you should’ve seen the look on her and her mother’s face when Clay sat down at our table. If looks could kill...”
Mia didn’t think her aunt was reclusive, but perhaps they both were compared to the rest of New York society. Her aunt had kept her running for the past month and a half with weekly shopping trips, visits to the salon to have their hair and nails done, and dinner parties to meet everyone from the accountant to the next door neighbor, and more. “Oh, I had no idea. Thank you for the tip. I’ll make sure I keep my water bottle close so she can’t find an opportunity to poison me.” Mia chuckled as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the hallway for the tenth floor. Thankfully, it was empty so they were able to finish their conversation quietly.
“Not a bad idea,” her aunt replied in a low voice. “Just be cautious. And with regard to Clay, as well. A few years back, when he was in his early twenties I’d say, I think he had some bit of trouble with drinking and carousing, and too many of the wrong sort of girlfriends. Now I’m not saying I know all of the details, and you may want to keep your ear to the ground for what exactly happened. Nor am I justifying it simply because lots of boys his age go through this sort of thing, especially when they’re the sons of billionaires. I’m sure his parents lost a lot of sleep over his behavior, but the truth is, I wouldn’t have considered allowing him to be your escort if I thought he hadn’t outgrown it all. I’ve seen a big change in him in recent years.”
“I would have never guessed. He appears to be so calm and together,” Mia replied, a look of wonder spreading across her face as she tried to reconcile the Clay her aunt described with the Clay she was getting to know. However, she knew people could change and mature, especially if they found Jesus.
Her aunt shrugged. “I’m sure Daddy paid an expensive attorney to take care of it all. He must’ve pulled it all together because he went off to an Ivy League school—I think it was Vanderbilt University—and after four years, came back just fine. All grown up and ready to help his father with the family businesses.”
As Mia lay down on the luxurious hotel bed made up with chocolates on her pillow, the finest linens, and a bathrobe, she wondered how her aunt kept up with all of these scandals and news about everyone. She found it exhausting. She certainly hoped her aunt wasn’t one of those gossipy types. Maybe Sylvia read the local gossip column, but much of the information in those was damaging, exaggerated, and sometimes not true at all.
As far as Mr. Handsome, she found herself intrigued, and more alive when he was around. She had to admit, there was some kind of attraction to Clay, but after Brett, she wasn’t too keen on being with anyone who might turn out to be unreliable or unfaithful. According to her aunt, Clayton Bridgewater the Third had a history where women were concerned; not exactly appealing.
Chapter 4
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness. Psalm 30:11, NASB
CLAYTON COULDN’T UNDERSTAND why he was having so much fun around Mia Delphine Morgan, but he was certainly enjoying having her in his arms at the present moment. Maybe it was the fact she was so refreshing. A Kentucky country girl, she was obviously completely lost in his high society New York world. Still, she remained unpretentious and true to herself, and he liked that about her. A girl like her would never go for a guy like him. He had a past, and she was clearly an innocent.
As they danced, she caught on more quickly than he’d expected. Swirling around the empty ballroom they had all to themselves while he held her close in his arms, she brought out an odd desire within him to protect her. It was as if he was holding a delicate flower in his hands, like a pure white calla lily or a rose with soft creamy white petals. Keeping it from being crushed was his only thought, and being able to admire it each day. Was that the scent of green apples in her lovely blond hair?
He kept one hand on her back, and he led with his right arm extended, clasping hers. She followed as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and she hadn’t stepped on his toes more than once or twice.
“I know I read somewhere that the Vanderbilts, the Astors, and others in high society attended these balls at the Waldorf Astoria. I don’t understand why we’re at The Pierre,” she told him as they glided around a corner while turning in circles.
“You’re right,” he nodded. “They did used to be at the Waldorf Astoria, but they’ve closed for remodeling temporarily,” he explained, his voice growing softer. Something about her tugged on his heart.
“Oh, I see. It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask my aunt about, but keep forgetting,” she replied, clinging to his arms like a delicate butterfly.
“The Pierre isn’t as old as the Waldorf Astoria, but it’s been around since the 1930s,” he explained. “I guess you could say I’m kind of a history buff. I minored in economics with a major in art history.”
“I love history, and especially art history,” she replied. “The Pierre is an interesting building, too. I like it. So tall,” she remarked, smiling up at him with her sparkling green eyes. “Like you...”
They kept dancing, moving together more and more gracefully. “It’s snowing again,” she said when he spun her around near one of the long windows in the ballroom.
“I hadn’t noticed,” he admitted. “I can’t take my eyes off of how beautiful you are, Mia.”
Her blush and her hands tightening around the muscles in his arms were her only reply.
“So the green eyes in your family are a LaVeque trait?” he asked as he extended his arm so she could spin under it again.
When she returned to his arms from the spin, she answered, “Ah, you noticed I have the same color eyes as my aunt. My father has them, too. I guess it’s a LaVeque thing you could say, since Sylvia married a LaVeque, but it’s really a Morgan thing.”
“They’re beautiful,” he whispered, pulling her closer. Why did her lips appear so voluptuous, glossy, and welcoming?
She blushed more deeply this time, her cheeks turning rosy, endearing her to him all the more. Then he surprised her and himself by giving her a grand dip, and planting a tender kiss on her lips while he held her safe in his arms. A Vienna Waltz played softly in the background on her portable speaker, and for a few moments, they were completely lost in the embrace. The world didn’t exist, the ball didn’t matter, and the traffic outside the hotel windows seemed distant. If only they could remain this way forever.
MIA WISHED WITH ALL her heart that Nora Chandler hadn’t walked into the ballroom at the end of her kiss with Clay. The kiss had taken Mia by surprise, and apparently even more so for Nora. It had happened sooner than expected and left her head reeling, hands trembling, and knees buckling. It gave her a weak feeling all over. Clayton Bridgewater left her doubting she’d ever be able to forget him. However, the meeting with the debutantes and escorts had been about to start, and Nora had arrived ahead of everyone else.