Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [102]
A funny look crossed Brendan’s perfect features, and he just shook his head.
“I just had a feeling you’d like it,” he muttered.
“I do. Thank you, I love it. But I didn’t get you anything,” I said remorsefully. Brendan just laughed and kissed my lips before kissing my hand.
“You have no idea how much you’ve given me, Em.” Brendan brushed his fingers through my hair, playing with a few strands. “But I should probably let you get out of here and get ready, though.”
I glanced at my new ring, then at the clock in the limo’s state-of-the-art stereo, and slid my sparkling left hand around his neck.
“I guess we have a little time,” I whispered, pulling him closer to me for another kiss.
A half hour later, I finally made it upstairs, mumbling a lame excuse about traffic before jumping in the shower to start getting ready for the dance. I had about three hours to turn from street urchin to My Fair Lady.
I blew my hair dry in record time, adding a few waves with my curling iron so it looked a little different from my boring straight everyday look. I’d overheard some girls talking about getting their makeup professionally done, but as I surveyed myself in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door, I thought I didn’t do too bad of a job—even though the fake eyelashes I’d bought stuck to my fingers more than they did my eyelids. I pulled them off, corrected one smudge on my smoky eye makeup and finished the look with an almost nude lip gloss.
“There. Not too bad,” I said, pursing my lips in the mirror.
Christine had just finished helping me zip up my dress when the doorbell rang.
“Of course he’s early.” I eyed my alarm clock and grumbled, grabbing my gloves in my hand and slipping into Ashley’s borrowed Ferragamo heels. I cautiously tested my ankle—not too wobbly, I decided. Still, I threw a pair of thin satin flats into my clutch along with my keys, phone and lip gloss. I pulled Aunt Jess’s velvet wrap about me and prepared to make my grand entrance into the living room, where I could hear Brendan and Aunt Christine exchanging pleasantries.
With my chin held high and my shoulders back, I stepped into the living room, hoping to dazzle Brendan. But instead, I was the one spellbound. Seeing him now, it was like the first time I’d laid eyes on him all over again. I was a little struck with how dashing, handsome… Okay, I could think of a billion SAT-worthy words to describe how Brendan looked to me, but truthfully, the only word to describe him at this moment was hot. He looked incredibly, ridiculously, smack-yourself-in-the-face-he-can’t-be-real hot.
Brendan’s hair was pushed back, this time under a fedora. His green eyes sparkled, and his cheeks were a little flushed from the cold. His peacoat was open, and he wore all black, from his crisp suit to his open-necked black button-down. He looked like he’d just walked off the set of some film about rock stars moonlighting as gangsters. If rock stars held rose corsages, that is. I melted a little against the doorway.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Brendan’s mouth, and he crossed the room to me.
“You look gorgeous,” he whispered, low enough so my aunt couldn’t hear, as he slipped red roses around my wrist. After we obliged Christine with a photo—actually, with several photos—we were soon being whisked away in the limo.
“You are so beautiful tonight, Emma,” Brendan said, his arm securely around my waist.
“You look pretty amazing yourself,” I whispered, running my hand down his sleek lapel. I doubted there was anyone on the East Coast who looked better than Brendan this night.
“Well, I had to match you,” he said. “That’s a big challenge.”
I fidgeted self-consciously, thinking he’d have to uglify himself a whole lot before we were ever on the same level. Brendan reached for my hand, taking the gloves that I’d been clutching and tossing them on the wide expanse of open seat next to him.
“No, wait, I need those,” I cried out, reaching for them a little desperately.
His face searched mine for a moment, my eyes darting between