this old thing.” The cat’s purring increased in speed and volume, appreciative of her affectionate fingers.
Chloe paused a moment to drop a kiss on the cat’s pink nose. She would miss her 16-year-old pet. She’d adopted him from a pet shelter her first week in California because of overwhelming loneliness. He’d been her loyal companion ever since. Domino slept with her every night, curled up in a purring, contented mass near her head.
Julia leaned back on the multitude of pillows stacked up against the headboard, which was actually an old antique door she and Chloe had found one weekend at a flea market. They loved shopping flea markets and spent many hours searching for unique treasures. “So, tell me about him.”
“I don’t have time.” Chloe flipped up the bed skirt and fumbled blindly under the bed for her suitcases. She crowed in triumph as she pulled forth the first navy blue piece.
“Come on. You can’t tell me this news and then leave without filling me in on all the delicious details.”
Chloe struggled to find a second piece to her matched set. She stretched out on her belly and shoved her arm as far as it would go into the lint-filled mystery world under her bed. “Gotcha,” she exclaimed as her fingers curled around the handle.
“Come on. Details. I want details. I’m your best friend; therefore, I’m entitled to know everything.”
“Who says?” Chloe asked. She stood up and brushed off her jeans, lint and dust and who-knows-what fluttering off and drifting soundlessly to the floor. “Gross. We really have to clean more around this place.”
“It’s a rule.”
“I’ve never heard of that rule.”
“It isn’t written down.”
Chloe placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“It’s an unspoken rule that exists between best friends.”
Chloe wasn’t about to tell Julia the rest of the story: that Prince Maximilian was the man at the Roosevelt Hotel. That bit of news would put Julia into overdrive. She’d really demand details. And Chloe wasn’t prepared to give them to her. First, she wanted to hide her feelings about Max for as long as possible. It wouldn’t take long for Julia to figure out he’d won her heart. Second, there was something so incredibly sacred about that night. Sure, the sex had been fantastic—but it was more than that. So much more. And Chloe couldn’t even begin to explain what that was.
“Spill. Now.”
Chloe tossed up her hands. “There’s nothing to tell. Can’t this wait? I’ll have so much more to tell you when I get back.”
Julia blanched. “But that’s almost two months away. I can’t possibly wait that long.”
“He’s fabulous. Hot. Sexy. Charming. Perfectly adorable,” she finally confessed. She walked over to her dresser, another old battered flea market find with rusted knobs and peeling blue paint, and pulled out a handful of colored Victoria’s Secret panties. “Are you satisfied now?”
“Hardly,” Julia snorted. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I’m not lying to you, Jules.”
“Okay, maybe not lying, but you’re keeping something from me. That’s not fair.”
Chloe flipped open one of the suitcases. “I promise to tell you everything and anything when I get back.” She tossed in the underwear and walked across the room to grab matching bras—she hated wearing underwear and bras that didn’t match. “But I don’t have time now.”
Julia snapped her fingers. “I know what you’re not telling me.”
Chloe threw the tangle of bras in with the panties. She paused in her packing to stare at her friend. “What?”
“You aren’t the hostess. You’re one of the girls he gets to choose from,” Julia said excitedly, as if she had just solved some great mystery.
“Way to go, Nancy Drew,” Chloe muttered sarcastically.
“Damn. Not true?”
She slammed her suitcase shut, zipped it, and secured it with the miniature lock. Then she tied a bright
Chloe paused a moment to drop a kiss on the cat’s pink nose. She would miss her 16-year-old pet. She’d adopted him from a pet shelter her first week in California because of overwhelming loneliness. He’d been her loyal companion ever since. Domino slept with her every night, curled up in a purring, contented mass near her head.
Julia leaned back on the multitude of pillows stacked up against the headboard, which was actually an old antique door she and Chloe had found one weekend at a flea market. They loved shopping flea markets and spent many hours searching for unique treasures. “So, tell me about him.”
“I don’t have time.” Chloe flipped up the bed skirt and fumbled blindly under the bed for her suitcases. She crowed in triumph as she pulled forth the first navy blue piece.
“Come on. You can’t tell me this news and then leave without filling me in on all the delicious details.”
Chloe struggled to find a second piece to her matched set. She stretched out on her belly and shoved her arm as far as it would go into the lint-filled mystery world under her bed. “Gotcha,” she exclaimed as her fingers curled around the handle.
“Come on. Details. I want details. I’m your best friend; therefore, I’m entitled to know everything.”
“Who says?” Chloe asked. She stood up and brushed off her jeans, lint and dust and who-knows-what fluttering off and drifting soundlessly to the floor. “Gross. We really have to clean more around this place.”
“It’s a rule.”
“I’ve never heard of that rule.”
“It isn’t written down.”
Chloe placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“It’s an unspoken rule that exists between best friends.”
Chloe wasn’t about to tell Julia the rest of the story: that Prince Maximilian was the man at the Roosevelt Hotel. That bit of news would put Julia into overdrive. She’d really demand details. And Chloe wasn’t prepared to give them to her. First, she wanted to hide her feelings about Max for as long as possible. It wouldn’t take long for Julia to figure out he’d won her heart. Second, there was something so incredibly sacred about that night. Sure, the sex had been fantastic—but it was more than that. So much more. And Chloe couldn’t even begin to explain what that was.
“Spill. Now.”
Chloe tossed up her hands. “There’s nothing to tell. Can’t this wait? I’ll have so much more to tell you when I get back.”
Julia blanched. “But that’s almost two months away. I can’t possibly wait that long.”
“He’s fabulous. Hot. Sexy. Charming. Perfectly adorable,” she finally confessed. She walked over to her dresser, another old battered flea market find with rusted knobs and peeling blue paint, and pulled out a handful of colored Victoria’s Secret panties. “Are you satisfied now?”
“Hardly,” Julia snorted. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I’m not lying to you, Jules.”
“Okay, maybe not lying, but you’re keeping something from me. That’s not fair.”
Chloe flipped open one of the suitcases. “I promise to tell you everything and anything when I get back.” She tossed in the underwear and walked across the room to grab matching bras—she hated wearing underwear and bras that didn’t match. “But I don’t have time now.”
Julia snapped her fingers. “I know what you’re not telling me.”
Chloe threw the tangle of bras in with the panties. She paused in her packing to stare at her friend. “What?”
“You aren’t the hostess. You’re one of the girls he gets to choose from,” Julia said excitedly, as if she had just solved some great mystery.
“Way to go, Nancy Drew,” Chloe muttered sarcastically.
“Damn. Not true?”
She slammed her suitcase shut, zipped it, and secured it with the miniature lock. Then she tied a bright
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