Dreams of Perfection (Dreams Come True)

Dreams of Perfection (Dreams Come True) by Rebecca Heflin Read Free Book Online

Book: Dreams of Perfection (Dreams Come True) by Rebecca Heflin Read Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Heflin
mental dope-slap. No, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, you twit—of course the Metropolitan Opera. Just call me Ditzy Darcy.
    His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Yes, the Metropolitan Opera. They’re presenting La Bohème .”
    “Sure . . . I mean, yes . . . I’d love to go.”
    “Wonderful. I have to work, but my car service will pick you up at your place at six and then swing by the hospital to pick me up. Does that work for you?” Before she could respond, he placed a hand on her arm. “Leave your address with the charge nurse. And get some rest. Can’t have you falling out again, can we?”
    Her heart stammered in her chest, matching her less-than-stellar response. “Um, no. I mean, yes. I mean, the car service is fine, the falling out not so much.” Smooth. Real smooth. She wasn’t in grade school, and this wasn’t Charlie Smathers, the first guy she’d ever had a crush on. She was a grown woman, for pity’s sake. Just as Blake’s pager went off, she offered up a tentative smile. “See you Friday, then.”
    “Looking forward to it,” he said, striding down the corridor, pager in hand.
    As if in a dream, Darcy drifted back to an impatiently waiting Laura.
    “He broke the heel off my shoe. My very expensive shoe.” Laura waved the heel in Darcy’s face before narrowing her gaze. “So, do tell. Did Dr. Gorgeous pull you into a linen closet for a quick grope session à la Grey’s Anatomy ?”
    “What? No. He asked me to the Met on Friday.”
    “Oh,” Laura replied, her voice thick with disappointment, before it brightened. “Oh! Get you, Darcy. You’re living your very own Pygmalion romance.”

Chapter 8
    The lobby of the Metropolitan Opera teemed with patrons dressed in their best glitz and glam. Jewels glittered at the throats, wrists, fingers, and ears of the Met’s wealthiest female patrons, all vying to see and be seen. The men, attired in either tasteful dark suits or tuxedos, networked with current and prospective business associates.
    Josh stood back, watching the throng with something akin to dismay, trying not to look the small-town yokel that he was. He’d lived in New York for over ten years now, but he’d never seen so much affluence in one place in the whole of his life. The very air seemed to carry the scent of money.
    These were the people he needed to rub elbows with if he wanted to raise money for the Women’s Legal Fund of Harlem, the legal aid center he volunteered for, which helped single mothers with civil legal matters. Their big fundraising gala was set for late summer and as event chair, these were the people he’d like to attract. As marketing chair, Laura’s connections would go a long way to make that happen.         
    A familiar laugh rose above the crowd, capturing his attention. Surprised, he scanned the crowded lobby for its owner.
    He spotted Darcy among a small circle of people, next to a guy who could have been on the cover of GQ . For her part, she put even the most glamorous women to shame. Dressed in some gauzy number the color of a ripe peach, her neck and wrists devoid of anything that glittered, she made the other women in the room look like a flock of crows in their unrelieved black.  
    She’d pulled her golden brown hair up and away from her face, revealing her long, slender neck.
    Mr. GQ slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, before whispering something in her ear. Whatever he said made her blush.
    Another blind date? She appeared to be enjoying this one anyway. Josh groaned as he felt the familiar fangs of jealousy puncture his heart. Putting a lid on his emotions, he made up his mind to go over and find out just who this GQ jamoke was.         
    Making his way through New York’s power elite, he overheard snippets of conversation, first about a dreadful week in Zermatt, then something about the jet being under repair, and finally the latest gossip about someone’s botched plastic surgery. Ah, the woes of the

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