BLIND: A Mastermind Novel (12 page)

Her skin heated. “Thanks. Yours are pretty too.”

Fiona winked. “Contacts. Mine are actually brown.”

Her lips parted. “I never would have guessed.”

The woman smiled again. “Part your lips. This shade of gloss will compliment your complexion.”

As she worked, Scarlet lost herself in her surroundings. When the thought of Mr. Stone suddenly popped in her head, she was pleased to note the lapse of time since she’d last thought of him. Mission accomplished. Maybe Fiona was right and there was something about being thirty and single.

“Take a look.”

The woman in the reflection was almost unrecognizable. It was her, but the prettiest version of herself she’d ever seen. “Wow.”

Her eyes were defined in an understated way that gave them a naturally dramatic appeal. Her skin tone was perfectly even, looking like it had years ago. She hadn’t taken note of the exact time that youthful glow faded, but Fiona had magically restored it. Her cheeks and brow bones were perfectly defined and for the first time in a long time, Scarlet saw herself genuinely smile.

“You like it?”

“It’s amazing.” Her fingers lifted to her cheek and feathered over the soft makeup, not finding it heavy or thick.

“It didn’t take much. You’re a natural beauty.”

Her reflection tinged with a sharp blush. “Thank you.”

She described all the products she’d used and where she applied them. In the end, Scarlet bought everything she suggested. Who knew if she’d ever look that way again? Her ability to replicate Fiona’s work was a lot to hope for, but she appreciated her time and effort. The cost was minimal compared to the jolt of confidence she found in that boutique.

As she returned to her car, her cheeks pinched with an unbending grin. At a traffic light on the way home, a man in the car beside her smiled in her direction and Scarlet nearly got in an accident as the light turned green she was so taken off guard.

Recognizing how low her self-esteem had plummeted was upsetting. Whatever provoked her to enter that boutique, she was grateful she did. The experience showed her there was a salvageable spirit hiding inside of her, beneath all the jaded, Debbie Downer garbage that had been weighing on her shoulders since her thirtieth birthday. No more—she decided.

As she plucked the keys from her car and walked into her house, she made a vow. This next chapter of her life would be a happy one. She was going to try new things and force herself to take risks. She would not let the next year pass like the last one. She made the resolution to take advantage of every exciting opportunity that came, promising to start this decade off right. It was a
deca-lution
, she decided.

She was done waiting for a man to give her purpose or a reason to live. From now on, she would live and let the men wait for her. If they wanted her to notice them, they’d better up their game, because she no longer had time for little boys.

Speaking of which, her eyes glanced at the clock. The morning had passed a lot faster than she’d expected—which was what usually happened when one stopped sitting around waiting for the phone to ring, or in her case, the laptop to ding.

The closer the hour came to noon, the more her tummy twisted with fluttering excitement, but there wasn’t the sense of dependency she’d woken up with. This time, she was curious, but no longer hanging her every hope on one guy. However, she was definitely giddy with anticipation. There was no denying that.

In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water, and grabbed her laptop. Six minutes. Anticipation had her breath quickening. Shit. She was supposed to have lunch with him. In a matter of two minutes she made a PB and J sandwich and grabbed a banana for dessert. Perching on the couch, she opened her laptop.

It chimed and she let out a breath she’d seemed to be holding.

Good afternoon, Ms. Farrow.

Good afternoon, Mr. Stone.

Did you enjoy your morning?

Yes. I graded some papers and did a little shopping.

Proud she could honestly say she didn’t spend the morning sitting around waiting, she grinned.

What did you buy?

Just a few things from a little boutique that opened in town.

It seemed wrong to tell a man she spent over a hundred dollars on makeup, so she kept that little tidbit to herself. He didn’t seem overly interested in her shopping excursion anyway.

What subject were you grading?

She smiled, finding his interest in the fundamentals refreshing.

Math.

Is that what you teach?

She hesitated. Last night they’d sort of flirted and discussed inconsequential things. Now his questions were getting personal.

I teach the basic language arts subjects, but math is my focus in the grade. What do you do?

She waited, anxious to see if he’d share.

I’m a designer of sorts.

As in interior design?

Funny, that didn’t fit with what she’d assumed about him. It wasn’t disappointing information, just unexpected.

It’s a bit more technical than interior design. My career focuses more on digital design. What are you having for lunch?

He always tended to give minimal information about himself and deflect the conversation back to her. Was he shy or literally that private? Or perhaps the better word was secretive.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a banana.

Ah, the lunchroom special.

What are you having?

Finishing her sandwich, she crumpled the napkin and peeled her banana as she waited. Her heart pounded as she considered how curious she was about this man, not just about his lunch, but everything.

Her eyes continuously checked the time, fearing the moment he’d conclude their conversation. Her phone suddenly rang at the same time the computer chimed. The caller ID said Nicole, but she hesitated, too drawn to Mr. Stone’s reply.

I’m having seared ahi tuna, fingerling potatoes, and green beans mixed in a balsamic vinaigrette.

“Holy shit.
”
She distractedly reached for her phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, what are you doing?
”
Nicole greeted. There was an echo on the line, telling Scarlet her friend was in the car.

“Um, I’m having lunch.”

“Are you home?”

“Yes,
”
she answered slowly, not wanting any interruptions.

“Perfect! I got a dress for that get together at my work. I wanted your opinion. I’m going for thirty and owning it, but I’m afraid this might scream trampy desperate. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She should have never answered the phone. Sighing, knowing her BFF duties couldn’t be overshadowed by a guy she barely knew, she said, “I’ll be here.”

“Great. See you soon.”

Call ended, she tossed the phone aside. There were several messages waiting for her.

What else did you do this morning, Ms. Farrow?

Scarlet?

Did my lunch offend you?

She quickly typed out a response before he assumed she’d left.

Hi.

Sorry. I got a phone call. I’m going to have company very soon.

His response wasn’t immediate this time. Damn it. Why did Nicole have to come over now? All she wanted to do was talk to Mr. Stone. They’d only had a few minutes and Nicole would likely be walking through the door in the next five.

I assumed we would have longer to chat.

It was amazing how disappointed she was over the same thing. Interesting that they both seemed to be experiencing the same frustration.

She could’ve told Nicole she was talking to a guy. She could even continue to talk to him while Nicole tried on her new dress, but for some reason she wanted to keep Mr. Stone a secret—at least until she got to know him a bit more.

Huh. It suddenly occurred to her that if Nicole was in the car driving to her house, she definitely wasn’t pretending to be the mystery man occupying her time. Strange, her suspicions of such a charade had disappeared sometime in the last eighteen hours without her realizing. The more time that passed the more real he became.

Scarlet, you’re developing a habit of making me wait for replies.

Sorry. I was hoping we’d have more time to talk too. I could come back after she leaves.

I’ll admit I’m relieved you said she. I had wanted to speak to you about my expectations, but it isn’t a conversation that should be rushed. How does 7:00 work for you?

That was seven hours away. Wishing he’d suggested a closer time, she pursed her lips and agreed, not wanting to come off too needy.

That works fine. I’ll talk to you then.

I look forward to it, Ms. Farrow.

Her mouth tightened with a smirk. The Ms. Farrow thing was growing on her. It was totally different, reading her formal title from a man, than hearing it from her students.

Me too. Bye.

She shut her laptop and tucked it out of sight. Two seconds later Nicole walked in. Scarlet put on a happy face and embraced the situation. She had six hours and thirty-eight minutes to kill.

As Nicole rounded the corner, Nordstrom’s garment bag in hand, she came to a jolting halt. “Whoa. You look fabulous! Did you have a date last night or something?”

Scarlet had been very cautious, avoiding all dating topics with her friend since their disagreement, but she could never stay mad at her forever. “Nope. But I took myself out this morning and got a makeover.”

“All by yourself?” Her friend’s expression of disbelief was a testament to just how closeted Scarlet had allowed herself to become.

“Yup.”

“Well, look at you!” Nicole smiled. “That’s awesome. Where did you go?”

“That little boutique on Main.”

“Stelluna? I love that place! I always go browsing, but never know what to buy. It’s so fancy and pristine. I can’t believe you went there by yourself!”