Strong hands, skillfully gliding across a delicate surface, bringing something beautiful to life. That was the way to a woman’s heart. At least that had to be the way to Nicola’s heart. Because, right now, as she watched a video of Damien Hawkins, owner of Hawkeye Pottery, use his magnificent hands to create a vase, she was seriously reevaluating her previous dating choices.
She’d always avoided artists just as she would walking in a bad neighborhood alone at night. Her past boyfriends could be spit out from an executive CEO cookie-cutter machine. Suit, tie, expensive smartphone. If she’d had the guts, she’d go for a guy like Damien.
She didn’t have the guts. Still, Nicola bit her lip, tilted her head to the side, and clicked the replay button on her phone. Watching for the fifth time a video of him turning a lump of clay into a beautiful vase on his pottery wheel.
She should sign up for his pottery class. Not to get the guy’s hands on her. She was a chemist and perfumer, but she also had an appreciation for the arts. This would be a way to explore her creative side.
Nicola tossed her phone on her desk. “Dammit,” she muttered. She had too much stuff to do. Now was not the time to indulge in fantasies she’d never follow up on. Taking a pottery class was about as practical as her going on vacation in the spring when most of the new perfumes debuted. She didn’t have time to take a pottery class.
There was a quick knock on the door to her lab. “Congratulations, superstar!”
Nicola glanced up as her sister entered her domain. Quinn held up a bottle of champagne in one hand and brought a party horn to her mouth with the other. The high-pitched sound of the horn echoed across the various vials of essential oils, alcohols, and other compounds used to make perfume. Quinn’s bright smile brought out one from Nicola. Her high heels clicked on the smooth floor as she drew closer to Nicola’s desk.
Eighteen months younger than Nicola, Quinn smelled like honeysuckle, vanilla, and lemon. Bright and rich. Her honey-highlighted, shoulder-length hair hung in a wavy curtain to her shoulders and complemented Quinn’s golden-brown skin. Per usual, Quinn was effortlessly beautiful in her off the shoulder black top and distressed jeans.
“What is the champagne for?” Nicola slipped off the glasses she wore when working and stood. Making a mental note to add Sign up for pottery class the latest entry into her Things I Will Do One Day list, she took the champagne bottle Quinn shoved in her direction.
“Who’s got the juice? You do! I just found out you landed the Desiree account,” Quinn said with emphasis. “You are officially one of the top perfumers on the East Coast. No wait, make that the entire world.”
Nicola clutched the champagne to her chest. Her juice, as it was called in the cutthroat world of perfume making, had made the final cut for Desiree. The R&B superstar had launched a makeup line the year before and was now entering the world of fragrance.
“I’m not the top fragrance chemist in the world,” Nicola said. “She only sent briefs to two perfume houses.”
Briefs, which could be anything, from a list of the scents the client wanted, to a vision board covered with inspirational pictures, were sent out to guide perfumers when a new scent was under development. Nicola had expected someone like Desiree to send her brief out to all the big names in perfume making, most of which were in New York or Paris. The fact that she’d chosen her mom’s once fledgling but now popular cosmetics company, Queen Couture, based out of Atlanta, was a shock that still reverberated through the industry.
“But we all know she wants to work with you,” Quinn, ever optimistic, countered. “She said she wanted to work with someone more down to earth, and she wants to support minority creators. She sent it to the International Fragrance House because she had to, but she chose Mom’s company because our perfumes are consistently the best of the season. So, once again, you’re the best in the world.”
IFH was the name in perfume making. Some of the most successful and long-lasting fragrances came out of that company. Perfumers longed to work there. Nicola was pretty sure if they instituted a cage match for the chance to fill one of their infrequent openings, people all over the world would enter. The fact that her juice samples were the ones Desiree picked over theirs was a nice golden feather in her cap.
“Not the best in the world, yet.” She winked at her sister.
Quinn grinned and snapped her manicured fingers. “Yes, girl, yes. Own it. I am so proud of you, Nicola. When Desiree debuted her makeup line people bought it in bulk and refer to themselves by their foundation color number. This perfume is going to be huge. Soon, the fragrance you create will be on every woman between the ages of nineteen and ninety.” She reached into her bag and pulled out two crystal flutes. “This is worth a celebration.”
Nicola had no argument for that, and peeled the foil from the top of the bottle of Moët. She’d been nervous, but her instincts hadn’t failed her when she’d put together the ideas for Desiree’s perfume. Her instincts failed her most of the time in her day to day life. If there was one thing she’d taught herself, it was to be confident in her ability to develop scents. Her good sense of smell and knowledge of biochemistry had helped her excel when she’d taken perfumer courses instead of going to graduate school.
“Well, who am I to turn down champagne at . . .” She glanced at the fitness tracker on her wrist. “Two in the afternoon.”
Quinn rolled her shoulder gracefully. “Oh, live a little. Lord knows it won’t hurt you to take a break from being the serious one and have a little fun.”
The frequently tossed taunt didn’t bother Nicola as much today, yet she couldn’t stop her automatic retort, “I’m not the serious one.”
Quinn’s big coffee eyes turned to the ceiling before she held up the glasses in her hand. “Are you opening that or not?”
“Give me a second.” She took several seconds to finish with the foil and carefully twisted the cork out of the bottle to avoid champagne spraying everywhere.
“Oh, wait, we have two things to celebrate,” Nicola said.
“What else? Are you making perfume for Meghan Markle next?” Quinn’s offhand comment carried a hint of mockery. That was the way with them. They loved each other and would always be there for the other, but they were different.
Quinn was the spontaneous, beautiful life of the party. Nicola was the serious, book smart, quiet one. Everyone loved Quinn just for being Quinn. Everyone loved Nicola after she’d made the perfume that saved the company. Triumph was their signature scent, and six years later, remained one of the top three best-selling perfumes.
Nicola’s success with Triumph had stolen some of Quinn’s do-no-wrong, everybody-loves-me thunder. Their parents now viewed Quinn as less focused. More of a screw up. Her antics no longer cute and funny. With each passing year, Nicola got more praise, Quinn more criticism. After years of being the ignored child, Nicola appreciated the attention. She just wished it didn’t come at the expense of her sister.
Ignoring the hint of shade in her sister’s comment, Nicola poured champagne into their glasses. “No, Mom told me you and Omar are trying to have a baby.”
Quinn coughed. She placed a hand on her chest and shook her head. “Wait, what?” She said between wheezing breaths.
“Yeah, she told me yesterday after the call from Desiree’s people. She said the day was full of great news. We were going to be the most influential perfume house and you were about to give her grandchildren.”
“Oh no, that’s some crap Omar is spouting to her. He wants to talk about babies.” Quinn ran a hand down her flat stomach. “I am not about to ruin my figure having a baby.”
“First of all, tons of women bounce back after having a kid. You won’t ruin your figure. I thought you wanted kids.”
Nicola wasn’t sure if she wanted kids. She didn’t deal with them often, had no clue how to talk to them, and had never actually held a baby. If Quinn had kids, she’d have to learn more about babies. A scary thought, but the idea of being a great auntie held some appeal.
“I wanted kids when I was in high school and thought the idea of a family was cute,” Quinn said. “Today, I’m very happy with my life as a trophy wife.”
Nicola cringed. She hated when Quinn used that phrase. “You are more than a trophy wife. Stop saying that.”
“You stop saying trophy wife as if it were a bad thing.” Quinn sipped her champagne then continued. “My looks are all I’ve got. Everyone knows you’re the brains, and I’m the beauty.”
“You’re more than a pretty face.”
Quinn had gotten a degree in cosmetic science. Everyone, including Nicola, had expected Quinn to take over things at their mom’s company. After Nicola created Triumph, her sister decided to use her minor in communications and focus on branding the company rather than making the products. When she’d met and married a rich and influential man, she spent even less time working for Queen Couture and built her own brand as a social media influencer. A title Nicola still didn’t quite understand.
“I’m also a good time girl,” Quinn said winking and shaking her hips. She picked up the champagne bottle and poured more liquid in her flute.
“Quinn.” Nicola’s voice was thick with disapproval.
Quinn put the bottle back with a thud. “Nicola, please, let’s not go there. I am happy being the beautiful wife to a handsome successful hedge fund manager. I keep up with his schedule to make sure we never miss an important event. I’m also on the board of dozens of charities and throw the best parties for potential investors. My life is a privileged one.”
“You’re smart.”
“And doing everything I listed before does not reduce my intelligence,” was Quinn’s succinct reply. “I’ve chosen to use all of my talents, including my looks.”
Nicola shook her head and sipped her barely-touched champagne. Quinn may have always been the pretty one, but up until the company’s success she’d never seemed to care that she was the pretty one. She’d never relied on her looks to get her through life. That was one of the reasons she’d been so popular. Quinn could make anyone smile and feel better. Now, she only cared about her waist circumference, if there were new lines on her face, and the best hair for her extensions.
Nicola decided to just let the conversation drop. She had more important things to focus on than convincing her sister to do something other than post about the latest bra she was wearing on Instagram, complete with picture of her in the bra. For the next several weeks her focus was going to be on making Desiree’s perfume. IFH was not completely out of the running. Their juice samples were good. Desiree was partial to Queen Couture, but if Nicola screwed up the final blend, the star could just as easily go back to the larger corporation. Being favored by Desiree and later dropped would have people question the viability of their company.
“I’m not going there with you today,” Nicola said. “Though, it would be nice to have a niece or nephew.”
Quinn waved her hand. “Mom can adopt grandbabies if that’s what she wants.” Quinn didn’t even allude to Nicola one day having kids. Truth be told, Nicola’s prospects of getting pregnant were zero to negative two thousand. She needed to at least date to have the possibility for sex, which in turn resulted in pregnancy. Nicola’s dating life had dried up faster than a grape in the Mojave Desert since her last relationship ended two years ago.
“Oh, did you like my latest picture on Instagram?” Quinn said, excitement back in her voice. “I’m wearing this new lipstick, and I promised the company I’d get at least five thousand likes.”
She picked up Nicola’s phone and punched in the code. Nicola also knew the code to Quinn’s phone. Nicola didn’t worry about her sister going through her phone. Not like she had much to hide anyway. Quinn went into Nicola’s phone more than she went into her sister’s. Mostly when Quinn needed likes or retweets on something she knew Nicola would forget to signal boost later.
Damien’s feed, in all its strong hand, muscular arm goodness, filled the screen. Quinn’s eyes widened. “You’re still cyberstalking Damien Hawkins?”
Nicola put down her glass and snatched the phone away from her sister. She navigated away from Damien’s screen. “I’m not cyberstalking.”
“Will you sign up for his class already? Then you can at least get a close-up of the man instead of watching him online.”
“His class is super exclusive to get into.”
Damien Hawkins pottery was in high demand. Celebrities, politicians, and wealthy clients all boasted about having one of his pieces. To make him even more likable, he also made a line of pottery that was reasonably priced, so average Americans could purchase. His short videos posted on various social networks received thousands of hits. Not only was the man talented, he was hotter than hell on a Sunday. Many of the comments on his posts referred to his work and his sex appeal.
“Plus, working on Desiree’s perfume is my main concern.” She pulled up her sister’s page and liked Quinn’s latest post. A picture of her sister, lounging in the sun, wearing what looked like nothing but a loosely tied silk robe, a bright red lipstick on her full lips. “There, your picture is liked.”
Quinn clapped her hands and beamed. “Thank you.” She pulled out her own phone and checked her page. “You know you make time for the things you really want to do. You want to take one of Damien’s classes. Stop waiting for life to happen to you and live it.”
“I am living life. I’m a world-renowned maker of fine perfumes and scents. I attend several parties a year, and I’m happy.” Most of the time.
Quinn rolled her eyes. “All you do is make perfume and attend parties that are tied to your work. For instance, the Johnson and Johnson party tonight.”
“Which is always fun.”
Attendance was part brand promotion and part networking with the various people in the industry who worked with them. She wouldn’t tell Quinn that she’d considered skipping this year so she could do more research on Desiree as she worked on the perfume. Not unless she wanted another speech about getting out and having fun.
Quinn’s side-eye said she knew just how much Nicola didn’t want to attend the party. “You know what I mean. Actually, get to the stuff on that list of yours.”
Heat prickled Nicola’s neck and cheeks. Quinn would bring up her list. “My list is for me. One day soon I’ll get to everything on it, but for now I’m working on one of the biggest projects we’ve ever had. You can’t fault me for that.”
Quinn waved her hand dismissively. “Fine, but remember one big project is often followed by another. If you don’t make time for what you want to do now, you’ll be old with bad knees and unable to have fun.”
Nicola laughed. “I’ve got bad knees now. Don’t worry. Desiree’s project is the last one, and then I’ll be ready to cross off items on my list.”
Quinn gave her a yeah right eye roll before looking at her phone. While Quinn was engrossed with her phone, Nicola scrolled back to Damien’s page. She sighed before locking the screen and sliding it in the pocket of the lab coat she wore when working. Make love to an artist. She’d add that to her list, too.
The club for the Johnson & Johnson party was nearly packed to capacity. Singers, actors, and athletes who had any sort of sponsorship with the company, along with their entourages and the behind the scenes people like Nicola, filled the place. After six years making fragrances for soaps, candles, and cleaners along with perfume and colognes, Nicola wasn’t typically star struck when she attended these events.
They were more of a chore than anything. Something she had to do to keep Queen Couture in everyone’s mind. Her mom typically attended these parties, too. She was better at socializing and small talk than Nicola, but Adele King was out of town. Their parents’ anniversary was that week and her dad surprised her mom with a romantic vacation in Paris. Leaving the Johnson & Johnson schmoozing to Nicola and Quinn. Her sister’s internet fame included wearing some of the products connected to Queen Couture and helped their brand on more than one occasion.
An arm slipped through hers and she was pulled in close to her best friend’s side. “I am going home with one of these guys tonight.”
Shonda fluffed the side of the halo of curls framing her face, straightened her shoulders and puffed out her chest. She smelled of coconut and spice. A bright smile showcased a row of bright white teeth. Her skin-tight red dress fit in perfectly with the various sexy outfits worn by women in the club. Nicola had opted for a white, one-shoulder top and rose gold, high-waisted skirt that gave off a more cocktail party vibe. Shonda looked ready to party. Only her clammy hand on Nicola’s wrist and the tightness around her eyes gave away her nervousness.
Nicola patted her friend’s hand. “You don’t have to go home with anyone, you know. You can just get a few numbers. Smile and talk. Have a guy buy you a drink.”
Shonda shook her head. “No. It’s been eighteen months since I kicked Bryan’s ass to the curb. I’ve devoted myself to making the split as easy for the kids as possible. Now it’s time for Mommy to get back out there.”
Nicola kept her mouth shut. Shonda’s divorce had not been pretty. That tended to be the case when cheating was involved. Bryan was the last person Nicola would have suspected to be out there sleeping around. If someone had asked her for an example of a happily married man who completely adored his wife, Nicola would have immediately pointed to her best friend’s husband. She’d helped him pick out the engagement ring. Saw the tears in his eyes when Shonda came down the aisle. Witnessed the roses he would surprise her with every Valentine’s Day, birthday, and anniversary. Unfortunately, the man Nicola frequently compared her own boyfriends to had not only been sleeping around, but he’d gotten Shonda’s administrative assistant pregnant. Talk about some bull.
“Get back out there slowly,” Nicola warned. “Don’t do something stupid just because you want to make Bryan jealous.”
“This has nothing to do with Bryan and everything to do with me. Oh, look, isn’t that Quinn?”
Nicola looked in the direction her friend pointed and spotted her sister at the end of the large bar. Quinn hadn’t noticed them. She was deep in conversation with a tall, handsome man who wasn’t her husband. Nothing surprising there. Quinn was beautiful, men were attracted, but her sister never strayed.
Why mess up the good thing I got for a few minutes of mediocre sex? Quinn’s favorite reason for why she wouldn’t ever step out on her husband. Never because she loved him. Nicola never brought that up.
“Let’s go see who she’s talking to,” Nicola said.
Shonda leaned her head to the side and raised a brow. An appreciative gleam brightened her eye. “Yes, let’s do that, because from here his ass is fantastic. And since your sister can’t do anything with him, I’m more than happy to start my quest to reintroduce my body to sex sooner rather than later.”
Nicola shook her head and laughed as they headed over to her sister. “Quinn, hey,” Nicola said when they reached her sister.
Quinn faced them. Irritation flashed in her sister’s eyes before the sentiment was hidden behind a bright smile. “Nicola, you finally made it.” She leaned in and hugged her.
“I got caught up at work,” Nicola said. “I would have been here sooner, but I started working on—”
“I know. It’s always work.” Quinn waved her hand. “Shonda, girl, what’s up? I didn’t know you were coming,” she said after hugging Shonda.
“I’m getting back out there,” Shonda said. Her eyes focused on the guy hovering behind Quinn. A calculating gleam entered their brown depths. “Speaking of getting back out there, please introduce us to this handsome fellow.”
Quinn grinned and slid an arm around the man in question, pulling him into their conversation. “Ladies, let me introduce you to Joseph Martin. His company produces most of the commercials for Johnson and Johnson.”
Joseph held out his hand and shook theirs. “Ladies, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Shonda’s perusal intensified after Joseph spoke in a smooth baritone voice. Nicola wasn’t completely immune. Tall, dark, and handsome, with a voice made for late-night pillow talk. But then her analytical mind kicked in. His handshake was too hard, and he smelled like baby powder. She hated that scent on a man.
He also didn’t separate himself from Quinn during the introductions. Her sister’s hands lingered on Joseph’s arm as he gave them a thirty-thousand-foot overview of what goes into making a commercial. Joseph’s eyes frequently lingered on her sister’s cleavage. Quinn’s all white pantsuit seemed stitched together to show off breasts and butt.
Nicola fought not to check her watch to see what time it was. She’d much rather be at home, drinking wine, and brainstorming smell combinations than getting a headache listening to Joseph talk while breathing in the thick mixture of perfume, sweat, and pheromones in the club.
Joseph’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his back pocket and frowned at the screen. “Excuse me ladies. Quinn, I’ll give you a call.”
Quinn’s grin was flirtatious. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
As soon as he walked away Nicola leaned into her sister. “What was that about?”
“What was what?” Quinn moved back to the bar. Nicola and Shonda settled in on either side of her.
Nicola ordered a club soda from the bartender. She didn’t like drinking at these events. Shonda got a vodka and cranberry.
Shonda raised an arched brow. “You were doing a lot more than flirting with that man.”
Quinn chuckled and slid long fingers through her honey-colored hair. “Whatever. He said I’d be great for a campaign they’re working on. I told him I was a model.”
“Instagram model count?” Nicola shot back.
Quinn cut her eyes at Nicola before shaking her head and laughing in her you’re just jealous way. She turned to Shonda. “A model is a model. That’s the great thing about the world today. You no longer have to depend on some agency to land big jobs. I have thousands of followers, and I’m an influencer. That’s all that counts.”
Nicola opened her mouth to argue, but Shonda caught her eye and shook her head. Nicola sucked the straw in her club soda instead. Tonight was about networking and mingling. Not arguing with Quinn, again, about her life choices.
“That’s really cool, Quinn,” Shonda said. “Let me know how it turns out. Then, maybe you can introduce me to a male model who is only interested in no strings attached orgasms.”
Nicola laughed, sending soda down her windpipe. She cleared her throat and grinned at Shonda. “I’m going to have to put a caution sign on you.”
“Nope, Shonda, don’t listen to my sister,” Quinn said. “She just got the deal of the century. She’s at the top of her game and should be out here living her best life. Instead, she is working late and not paying attention to that very sexy man at the end of the bar trying to get her eye.”
Shonda stood up on tiptoe. “What guy?”
“The one in the tan suit,” Nicola said, having noticed the guy a few minutes earlier.
He reminded her of her last boyfriend. Not in looks, but in the vibe he gave off. Rich, confident, CEO type. She wasn’t about to go down to Hawkins Studios and sign up for a pottery class just to meet the guy she drooled over, but she also wasn’t in the mood to go down the same road as she had before. Hence the reason for . . .
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