on
Entertainment Tonight
. And in
People
.
“I thought of that. But decided against it. Too much chance that someone could sneak in.” Dee shook her blond head, adamant.
“Are you crazy? We have great security.” Cammie put a hand on her slender hip, obviously taking Dee's decision personally.
“One asshole and the whole night is ruined,” Dee pronounced. “Besides, I've got the perfect location.”
“What?” Cammie challenged, as she put down her wine and turned sharply toward Dee.
“A wedding at sea. That is, on the
Look Sharpe II
. Your dad just bought a new yacht, Sam. It's perfect. There's a helipad in the back to bring people to and from; we can charter some cigarette boats to shuttle people back and forth from the harbor at Malibu; and if the chop is bad—it won't be since it's August, but just in case—the captain can anchor by the Channel Islands.”
Sam hadn't seen the new vessel, but it was supposed to be truly over the top. Jackson had bought it from Laurel Limoges, the cosmetics titan, who lived in Palm Beach, Florida. It had arrived with a full crew and had to be sailed from south Florida through the Panama Canal. Sam had overheard her father talking about it, but she hadn't had a chance to ride up to the yacht club in Malibu where it was anchored to get a firsthand look. Jackson claimed it was twice as large as the previous version of the
Look Sharpe
, and that vessel had handled seventy-five people with ease. This one could comfortably do a hundred and fifty. Dee had talked about a hundred guests, and a waitstaff of fifty. That would be the perfect size.
She nodded approvingly. “I like it. But my dad is against the wedding. My mom too.”
“We'll work that out,” Dee said easily. “Or shall I say, I'll work that out. He's a movie star. He has a public to please. He won't want bad press, so he'll cave.”
“When did you find the time to do all this?” Cammie asked. She forked a chunk of pineapple salad into her mouth.
“It was a busy morning,” Dee quipped.
“I think it's amazing. And I really, really appreciate it.” Sam reached over to squeeze Dee's slender hand.
“I'm having a blast,” Dee confided, snapping her notebook shut in a businesslike manner that was very un-Dee. “Planning your wedding. I always thought I'd be first. Not that I'm ready to get married now. But you know.”
“Yeah.” Sam twirled some caramel-streaked hair around one finger absentmindedly. Wedding. Her wedding. They were talking about
her wedding
. It all felt so unreal. Or surreal. Or something.
Everything was going really well, Sam thought, as she and her friends padded downstairs in their terry cloth pedicure sandals with the individual toe separators. In a matter of days, she'd be walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress toward her beautiful, loving fiancé. She had everything she wanted. So why did she feel so jittery?
It must be cold feet, she reasoned with herself. Even terry cloth sandals couldn't fix that.
Champagne, Anyone?
Sunday night, 11:15 p.m.
C ammie slid gracefully up to Champagne and linked arms with her protégée as they stood near the barricades that separated the rest of Venice Boulevard from the area in front of Bye, Bye Love. The younger girl was wearing a black satin halter mini-dress with straps that crisscrossed in the front, wrapped around her neck, and tied in the back. She looked absolutely stunning. Her dress had been designed by Martin Rittenhouse, a prototype for his petite collection. Cammie reminded herself to tell Martin about the interview she'd done with
Entertainment Tonight
—and how on the spur of the moment she'd announced that the new line would be called Martinette.
“This is … amazing.” Champagne was breathless. Her emerald eyes sparkled with admiration as she took in the crowd of A-list and almost-A-list celebrities who made up the clientele of the sizzling new club, in only its third night of operation.
“Amazing, remarkable,
Entertainment Tonight
. And in
People
.
“I thought of that. But decided against it. Too much chance that someone could sneak in.” Dee shook her blond head, adamant.
“Are you crazy? We have great security.” Cammie put a hand on her slender hip, obviously taking Dee's decision personally.
“One asshole and the whole night is ruined,” Dee pronounced. “Besides, I've got the perfect location.”
“What?” Cammie challenged, as she put down her wine and turned sharply toward Dee.
“A wedding at sea. That is, on the
Look Sharpe II
. Your dad just bought a new yacht, Sam. It's perfect. There's a helipad in the back to bring people to and from; we can charter some cigarette boats to shuttle people back and forth from the harbor at Malibu; and if the chop is bad—it won't be since it's August, but just in case—the captain can anchor by the Channel Islands.”
Sam hadn't seen the new vessel, but it was supposed to be truly over the top. Jackson had bought it from Laurel Limoges, the cosmetics titan, who lived in Palm Beach, Florida. It had arrived with a full crew and had to be sailed from south Florida through the Panama Canal. Sam had overheard her father talking about it, but she hadn't had a chance to ride up to the yacht club in Malibu where it was anchored to get a firsthand look. Jackson claimed it was twice as large as the previous version of the
Look Sharpe
, and that vessel had handled seventy-five people with ease. This one could comfortably do a hundred and fifty. Dee had talked about a hundred guests, and a waitstaff of fifty. That would be the perfect size.
She nodded approvingly. “I like it. But my dad is against the wedding. My mom too.”
“We'll work that out,” Dee said easily. “Or shall I say, I'll work that out. He's a movie star. He has a public to please. He won't want bad press, so he'll cave.”
“When did you find the time to do all this?” Cammie asked. She forked a chunk of pineapple salad into her mouth.
“It was a busy morning,” Dee quipped.
“I think it's amazing. And I really, really appreciate it.” Sam reached over to squeeze Dee's slender hand.
“I'm having a blast,” Dee confided, snapping her notebook shut in a businesslike manner that was very un-Dee. “Planning your wedding. I always thought I'd be first. Not that I'm ready to get married now. But you know.”
“Yeah.” Sam twirled some caramel-streaked hair around one finger absentmindedly. Wedding. Her wedding. They were talking about
her wedding
. It all felt so unreal. Or surreal. Or something.
Everything was going really well, Sam thought, as she and her friends padded downstairs in their terry cloth pedicure sandals with the individual toe separators. In a matter of days, she'd be walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress toward her beautiful, loving fiancé. She had everything she wanted. So why did she feel so jittery?
It must be cold feet, she reasoned with herself. Even terry cloth sandals couldn't fix that.
Champagne, Anyone?
Sunday night, 11:15 p.m.
C ammie slid gracefully up to Champagne and linked arms with her protégée as they stood near the barricades that separated the rest of Venice Boulevard from the area in front of Bye, Bye Love. The younger girl was wearing a black satin halter mini-dress with straps that crisscrossed in the front, wrapped around her neck, and tied in the back. She looked absolutely stunning. Her dress had been designed by Martin Rittenhouse, a prototype for his petite collection. Cammie reminded herself to tell Martin about the interview she'd done with
Entertainment Tonight
—and how on the spur of the moment she'd announced that the new line would be called Martinette.
“This is … amazing.” Champagne was breathless. Her emerald eyes sparkled with admiration as she took in the crowd of A-list and almost-A-list celebrities who made up the clientele of the sizzling new club, in only its third night of operation.
“Amazing, remarkable,
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