Sweetheart in High Heels by Gemma Halliday Page B

another notch.
    “Tell me about it,” I mumbled.
    “Oh, hey! I know what will cheer you up,” Dana said.
    “What?”
    “Shopping. You picked out your awards dress yet?’ she asked.
    Last year I had been lucky enough to land a gig as the shoe designer for a period film that was nominated for a Viewer’s Choice Award for best picture. Not that I, as the lowly shoe designer, would get an award if we won, but it had garnered me an invitation to the red carpet event – my very first.
    I nodded. “Yep. I decided to go with the vintage Versace.”
    “The black one?”
    “With the rhinestones.”
    “So pretty,” Dana cooed.
    “And, I designed the perfect shoes to go with them. They just arrived yesterday. Gorgeous.”
    Dana let out a girlie “eek!” and scrunched up her shoulders. “I can’t wait to see them!”
    “Okay, enough about me,” I said, the thought of red caret fashion pulling me out of my pity-party for one. “Tell me about your night out with Ricky.”
    Dana rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Where to even begin?”
    “That good, huh?”
    “Well, Ricky had this thing to go to on Wilshire. Some big shot producer’s birthday party. But the paparazzi must have got wind of it somehow, because they chased us all the way from his place in Hollywood to the event. It was like we had our own parade with flash bulbs going off all over the place.”
    Dana was dating Ricky Montgomery, the movie star. He’d started his career on the primetime drama Magnolia Lan e, playing a gardener so hunky that every desperate housewife on the street lusted after him. But three seasons in, his character had been killed in a Homeowner’s Association riot, and Ricky had moved on to film roles, the latest of which had just launched him from supporting actor to full-fledged leading man status. On the up side, he’d been able to pull some strings and get Dana a part playing opposite him, meaning that my actress slash aerobics instructor best friend had finally been able to drop the slash aerobics instructor part of her job description. On the downside, she’d been featured on TMZ twice already with less-than-flattering photos of her leaving Ricky’s place early in the morning, post-party and pre-coffee. Living in the public eye had its price. (Even if that price was in the millions per picture.)
    “But was the party good?” I asked, huffing as I lowered my machine down a level.
    Dana shrugged. “I guess. I mean, it was all business, you know? Schmoozing with the right agents, rubbing elbows with the right producers. I never thought partying would be so much work. But at least Ricky made it up to me when we got back to his place.”
    She grinned. But then must have seen the look on envy my face, as she quickly said. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Look, I’m sure Ramirez will make it up to you soon, too.”
    “That’s what he keeps promising,” I agreed, though I had my doubts about his ability to make good on that promise before his captain called him in again.
    “Well, what about Valentine’s Day?” Dana asked. “Surely you guys have something special planned?”
    I nodded. “Definitely.”
    Not only was this coming Saturday our first Valentine’s Day together as a married couple, but it was also our first anniversary. Yes, we’d gotten married on the most romantic holiday of all. And I was determined that our first anniversary would top it.
    “I rented us a room at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. The honeymoon suite. Complete with champagne, caviar, and a hot tub for two.”
    “Ooooo,” Dana said. “Very romantic.”
    “The only problem,” I told her, “is that I have no idea what to get Ramirez for a Valentine’s anniversary gift.”
    “Lingerie?” she suggested.
    “That’s more for me, isn’t it?”
    “Not if it’s the right lingerie,” Dana said waggling her eyebrows up and down.
    I grinned. “Point taken. But I was hoping to come up with something a little more personal.”
    “How about a personal love