A sexy female voice singsonged, âHello, gorgeous.â
James grinned in the darkness of his bedroom. Yep. It was definitely the blonde whoâd flirted with him earlier. Her body made contact with the mattress and he sensed rather than saw that she was naked.
âWhy donât you switch on the light?â Heâd love to get a look at her.
âI like the dark,â she whispered. âAnd itâs very dark in here.â When her voice hitched in excitement, it seemed clear that having sex with him was high on her list of priorities. There was nothing that James loved more than being on a womanâs âto-doâ list.
But he was a gentleman at heart. âAre you sure you know what youâre doing here?â
She laughed. âOh, you want me to consent.â She leaned over, her scent engulfing him. âI do, gorgeous.â
For a second everything went silent. Yes, this cinched it. Sex was on her agenda. Heat pooled in Jamesâs belly and teased his groin. When heâd gotten into bed tonight, getting lucky had been the last thing on his mindâ¦.
He tossed back the covers, feeling a sleepy stir of air hit his naked body. âAbracadabra,â he said. âCâmon inâ¦.â
âARENâT PARTIES AT THE MET absolutely fab?â mused C.C.
âDivine,â returned Diane.
âThose chicks in Sex and the City have got nothing on us,â chimed Mara.
âStick around for just a few more minutesâ¦.â As Signe Sargent continued serving cocktails to costumed people sidling up to a makeshift bar, she glanced at her girlfriends, all wearing cat costumes. Through floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, light from the nearly full moon and star-scattered sky poured into the room, illuminating the ancient stone Temple of Dendur, brought from the Nile and reassembled in the Metâs Sackler Wing, as part of the museumâs permanent collection.
âWeâd love to stayââ C.C. reached to adjust the pointed cat ears nestled in her silken shoulder-length hair ââbut while our kitty-cat costumes still look fresh, weâve got to get downtown to Gusâs gig.â Gus was the owner of the bar nearest Signeâs walk-up in the Village.
Diane, whoâd flipped open a compact, was checking her lipstick. âI wish you werenât working, Sig. You could go with us.â
âThanks for sneaking us onto the guest list,â put in Mara.
Diane closed the compact, then tilted back a champagne flute, drained it and placed it on the tray beside Signe. âSneaking in here was risky, but definitely worth it,â she pronounced, flashing a business card sheâd managed to get from one of the hot, circulating bachelors.
Afraid her boss might recognize her friendsâ names, since the bash, given by a computer mogul, was strictly for New Yorkâs crème de la crème, Signe had signed everyone in under false names.
âItâs definitely one of the better parties weâve crashed this month,â agreed C.C. with a sigh.
âAmazing hors dâoeuvres,â added Mara.
After filching another pumpkin-shaped tart from under her workstation, Signe nodded, munching. âI still havenât seen Gorgeous Garrity.â
âYou will,â assured C.C.
Maybe. Signeâs eyes settled on the windows behind her opening onto Central Park. In full autumnal glory, the park was beautiful, the trees bursting with color. Gold and russet, they glimmered with night dew and framed a moon so romantic that even the most jaded New York cynic might swoon. It was the perfect backdrop for propositioning Gorgeous. So, where was he?
Signeâs gaze returned to the cavernous roomâthe ancient Egyptian tombs, the stone statues of guardian goddesses and the temple itself. As mystical as the moon, Dendur stood just as it had for thousands of years, its yellow stones covered in hieroglyphs.
âI met a Rockefeller,â Diane said.
Signe nodded, still scanning the crowd for Gorgeous. While it wasnât generally known, the museum was available for private parties, at least if they were given by the cityâs movers and shakers. Tonight, faces recognizable from magazines and the news were everywhere.
âI met Ghardi,â Mara was saying. âYou know? That shoe designer who does the retro-platforms with the gaudy bows on the toes?â