The Essence of Perfection Page 10

  “Part of my list. No working on Sunday. Go out and enjoy the farmers market.” Except now she was sweat-stained and tired while he looked perfectly comfortable and incredibly desirable.

  “You haven’t been before?” He asked as if it was everyone’s duty to attend the farmers market.

  “No, and I can’t say I’m enjoying it much now.” She shifted her purse from one shoulder to the next. “I came in here to cool off. I think I’m going to hike back to my car and call it a day.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, you can’t do that. If you’re going to take off and enjoy the day then you need to do that.”

  “I’ll be fine. Plus, I saw some of the farmers market. It’s not really for me.”

  He hitched his head toward the door. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t, but I want to.” His lips lifted in a smile.

  There was a flutter in her chest. Well, when he asked like that, with that smile, and those eyes, how could she say no?

  * * *

  He took her to nearly every booth at the farmers market and knew almost every vendor there. Most greeted him by first name. Damien told her about the various crafts, foods, or jewelry the people sold. His knowledge about the differences with each of the people out there impressed her.

  The weather was still hot, but Damien continued to cool her off with frozen lemonades, ice cream, and other treats as they walked and talked.

  “You come here every weekend.” It wasn’t a question. There was no way he could know so much without coming out regularly.

  “Most weekends when they have it. The art community is closely knit. I get to know other artists because being around other creatives helps to replenish my well.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” Nicola said. “I’m always isolated in my lab. Making things that people love, but lately it hasn’t been as easy.”

  “You obviously must be doing pretty good if you were able to get Desiree’s attention.”

  She stopped walking along the busy street to raise a brow at him. “Oh, so you do pay attention to the world of fashion.”

  He grinned and waved a hand. “I only looked you up because you’re in my class. I take an interest in all of my students.”

  “Okay, sure,” she said with an eye roll even though his answering chuckle made her stomach feel squishy. In a good way.

  “On the real,” he said as they continued walking. “You should consider coming out more. Being around other people making things. You’re an artist, too.”

  “Not hardly.” She’d never thought of herself as an artist. A biochemist who happened to stumble into the glamorous world of perfume making, but not an artist.

  “You are. You make perfumes and colognes and if I’m right, no two are the same. Which means you have to create something new every time you go into your lab. Art takes many forms. It doesn’t have to just be on a canvas or with a lump of clay.”

  She was silent for a few moments. Considering his words. “You know you were right the other day.”

  “Right about what?”

  “When you said I didn’t have the passion in my voice about what I do.”

  He stopped again and placed his fingers on her arm. Regret deep in his eyes. “Hey, I was out of line for going there. I didn’t mean to make you doubt yourself.”

  “I don’t know if it’s doubt, or more like fear. Maybe one day people will realize I’m a fluke. I got lucky with one magic formula. How can I possibly sustain it?”

  She’d gotten lucky. Lucky no one knew how she really came up with their signature scent. Lucky no one had caught on that every time she went to make another perfume she wondered if this would be the one that tanked. That everyone would finally see she didn’t belong. That she’d never belonged.

  Damien lightly tapped her arm getting her attention after her mind had wandered into hidden pockets she tried not to delve into. “You have sustained it. From what I can tell about you, you’re doing a damn good job making perfumes.”

  “You really did look me up?” The idea made her feel a bunch of things she probably shouldn’t be feeling.

  “I really did.” His answer was slow and deliberate. As if he couldn’t believe he was admitting as much.

  She started walking again before she assumed he was flirting. “I’ll think about what you said about being around other creatives. I meant what I said back there. I’m really enjoying the class.”

  Damien’s long legs easily kept up with her. He walked close enough for her to breathe in his earthy scent and occasionally brushed against her arm. “Thank you. Even though we can’t have as many classes as Fran would like, I think the smaller classes make it easier for people to connect with what we’re trying to do.”

  “I wasn’t sure I could become one with the clay like she said.”

  “Sounded silly, huh?”

  Nicola laughed. “Honestly, yes.”

  “Don’t you do the same thing when you’re working on a project? Don’t you put a piece of yourself in every scent you create?” The question was serious, although he didn’t sound as if her earlier laughter had bothered him.

  When she felt comfortable with a briefing she received. When she could visually see what the client wanted and the scents just came to her. That’s when her work was the most fun. When she became one with her project. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

  He tapped his forehead “I know what I’m talking about sometimes. You’re a creative person. Expressing yourself through other outlets not only gives you a new experience, it also opens your mind to things you may not have considered before. That’s why I try to spend time with different people. Learn what makes them tick. What’s visually appealing to them. It helps me as I go back into the studio and work on the next piece. I bet that if you spend more time out of the lab, reconnect with your creative side. Replenish the well, then you’ll be even better back in the lab.”

  She nodded, but didn’t answer. Wasn’t that what she was doing with her list? Reconnecting and reliving her life. Rediscovering what she liked in order to help her create the essence of perfection in a bottle.

  They kept walking down the street. Silent while she let his words sink into her brain. What he said wasn’t revolutionary. She’d known that on some level. Everyone knew that. Get out, live life, find ways to care for yourself to avoid burnout. The advice wasn’t new, but her drive to actually listen to the advice this time around was new.

  “Damien!” a voice called out.

  They both turned toward the voice. An older man with a bright smile wearing a butter-yellow shirt with salmon-colored shorts strolled their way. Damien grinned as he walked over to meet the man, and the two of them hugged.

  “Louis, what are you doing here?” Damien said.

  “You know every time I’m in Atlanta I have to come through here,” Louis replied. “I hoped I’d run into you.”

  Louis looked over Damien’s shoulder at Nicola. Damien turned her way. “Louis, this is Nicola. She’s in my current class.”

  Louis reached out a hand. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Likewise.” Nicola shook his hand.

  “You’re still teaching classes, too, huh,” Louis said. “You started with that wheel in your garage and look at what you’ve accomplished. I saw Shante last week and we talked about how well you’re doing.”

  Damien’s body stilled. The smile on his face turned brittle. “Much to her surprise.” There was a coolness in his voice now that hadn’t been there before.

  “Not at all. She knew you’d do great with your pottery. Told me herself. She wishes you well.” Louis kept up the cheer, either oblivious to Damien’s discomfort or choosing to ignore it.

  “I’m sure she does. Look, Louis, it was good to see you, but I’ve got to get back to the studio.”

  They hugged again before Damien indicated for her to follow him back the way they came. She shouldn’t ask
. It was none of her business. Damien didn’t owe her any information about his personal life.

  “Who’s Shante?” The words tumbled out.

  “My ex-wife.”

  “Oh.” Explanation given. She didn’t have to know more. Obviously, his ex was still a sore spot. “I take it you two don’t talk much.”

  “We don’t talk at all. Five years ago, she decided she wanted to live in another country. My pottery was just taking off. I wanted to stay. She insisted she had to go. That she couldn’t live her entire life in the Southern United States.”

  “She left you?”

  He shrugged. “Left me sounds harsh. I told her I couldn’t leave right now. She said she didn’t want to be tied down with a husband back home. After that, the divorce was very quick and very amicable.”

  Except she heard the pain and disappointment in his voice. Did he still love her? Did his ex-wife still love him?

  “It’s for the best,” he said. “I love my work. I don’t want to be tied down either.”

  “I say the same thing,” Nicola replied. “I don’t want to get tied down. I love my work.”

  Damien focused on her but kept walking. “But?”

  Her face heated. Embarrassed but somehow feeling okay telling him anyway. “But I have to tell someone I love them. It’s on my list. Tell someone I love them. Which means . . . I guess I need to try one day.”

  “You’ve never told a person you loved them?”

  “Just my family, but not in a romantic way. It’s always seemed too much of a risk.”

  “It is a risk. That’s why I’m not putting myself back out there.” He shook his head. His face resolute and determined. “Tried marriage and am not planning to go down that road again.”

  She understood the resolve in his voice, but that didn’t stop her from being disappointed. She’d been right. Damien Hawkins was not a guy she should even consider dating. He was divorced, probably heartbroken, and obviously still upset about the way his marriage ended. She was trying to focus on positive things in her life. Not trying to fix the heart of a man who was giving off clear I’m not relationship material signals.

  “I don’t know,” Nicola said. “I’d like to at least try being in love at least once. Which is why I’m going on a date tonight.”

  He did a double take. “You are?”

  “Yes. With a guy I was once afraid to ask out. I called him up and we’re going out tonight. Maybe it’ll be my chance, you know.” She infused her voice with the hope that blossomed out of the disappointment of knowing Damien Hawkins wasn’t the man for her.

  The corner of Damien’s lips tilted up in a half smile. “I hope it is. You seem like a cool woman, Nicola. I hope you find happiness.”

  Chapter 13

  “What are you wearing?”

  Nicola glared at Quinn’s name on her car’s console. She was on the way to meet Bobby for their date and decided to call Quinn. In hindsight, she should have known calling her sister before a date wasn’t the best idea. She should have called Shonda for emotional support. Shonda was good at being her “hype man,” whereas Quinn was good at making Nicola feel like a social outcast.

  “Why do you care what I’m wearing?”

  “Because, you were once super into this guy. I’m trying to make sure you don’t walk in there looking either too desperate or too boring.”

  Nicola gritted her teeth. She knew how to dress for a date. It hadn’t been that long since she’d gone out. “It’s too late now to change. I’m almost there.”

  “I can probably tell you how to fix things if you’ve messed up,” Quinn continued. Her freight train of advice unable to stop once it barreled down this track. “So, stop being difficult as hell and tell me what you have on.”

  Nicola sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m wearing a black cocktail dress. Nothing too sexy or too formal.”

  “Which dress?” Quinn shot back skeptically.

  “The one I wore to the fashion week luncheon.”

  “That Calvin Klein dress?” Quinn did not sound impressed.

  Nicola glanced down at her dress. She looked good in this dress. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nicola, nothing is wrong with it, but it’s . . . I don’t know.”

  “You just said I shouldn’t be too sexy or too boring. This dress is very nice.” The black sleeveless dress fit her upper body, flared out at the waist and stopped right above her knees. It was all black except for a white horizontal stripe across the skirt.

  “You could have at least shown some cleavage.” Quinn tossed out. Disappointment heavy in her voice.

  “You’re making no sense. Now you say I need cleavage. I don’t know why I called you.”

  “At least tell me you’re wearing heels.”

  She wasn’t. She’d chosen a cute pair of flats with black sequin accents. No need to make her sister completely freak out. “Will you stop. What I’m wearing is fine.”

  There was the rumble of a deep male voice in the background before Quinn said, “Okay, I’ll be right there. Just finishing up with Nicola.”

  “Is that Omar? Tell him I said hello.”

  “Girl, I left Omar at home. I’m here with Joseph. We’re meeting with some of his colleagues to talk about the ad campaign.”

  The guy from the nightclub that Quinn had been talking to. Nicola glanced at the clock. “It’s eight in the evening.”

  “All work isn’t done between nine and five.” Quinn chuckled as if Nicola was clueless. When it came to Quinn and what was cool, Nicola was clueless. “You of all people should know that. Look, just try not to spend the entire night talking about chemistry. Ask him lots of questions about himself. Get him talking and then ask more questions. That works with men. It makes them think their life sounds interesting even when it isn’t. Smile, don’t do that frowning analytical face you do when something doesn’t make sense, and if he tries to kiss you at the end of the night let him. It’s been way too long since you’ve gotten any, and you might as well screw Bobby.”

  Nicola gripped the steering wheel. Might as well screw Bobby? Would it even come to a discussion of them having sex? She shook her head. She would not let Quinn get into her head. This was Bobby. They’d had an easy friendship in college. If she just relaxed then things would go smoothly.

  “Geez, any other great advice for your socially awkward sister.”

  “Nope, that’s it.” Quinn replied, sounding pleased and ignorant of the sarcasm in Nicola’s voice. “Call me when it’s done. If I don’t answer, text. I may be here a long time and want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “You call me, too. You shouldn’t be out late with strangers.”

  Quinn laughed. Nicola felt as old-fashioned as that statement made her sound. “Okay, I’ll text you later. Good luck.”

  The call ended and Nicola took a deep breath. If Quinn’s advice was anything to go by, she might need a whole lot of luck.

  * * *

  There was one cameraperson waiting on Nicola outside of the restaurant. She’d opted out of going back to the spot next to the art gallery. She didn’t want to risk running into Damien. This reconnection was going to be awkward enough with the camera there filming them as if they were on a reality show. She didn’t need Damien’s raised brow and cocky smile to be a bigger distraction.

  “Are you Darcy?” she asked the woman with the camera.

  “I am.” Darcy held out her hand to shake Nicola’s. She spoke with a broadcaster’s voice. Her hair was cut in a stylish bob and a big, perfect smile creased her face.

  “Great to meet you,” Darcy said. “We aren’t going with a big crew or anything. I know this must be hard enough for you. Tackling all your regrets with a camera watching. It’ll just be me going with you and only my camera to try and make it less stressful.”

  “I appreciate that.” The words were polite, but as Darcy lifted the camera to her shoulder Nicola’s throat nearly closed up. “Are you going to start recording now.” She gl
anced left and right at the other people on the street in front of the bar. Her face burned with embarrassment, even though most people ignored them and kept it moving.

  “Just a quick pre-date interview. That’s why I asked you to show up first. Set it up and tell us why you decided to call Bobby and ask him out.”

  Nicola licked her lips and squeezed her purse instead of fidgeting with her clothes. She’d done hundreds of interviews for magazines and trade journals and had just been on national television. There was no need to be nervous. Except, this interview was specifically to get deeper into her personal life.

  Darcy lifted the camera. A laser red light came on. “Say your name and spell it so that I can check the sound.”

  Nicola gave her name and spelling. Darcy nodded and grinned. “Great. The sound is good. Now repeat my question in your answer. Introduce yourself and tell me why you called Bobby.”

  Taking a deep breath, Nicola focused on the red light. “Bobby is on my list because I worked with him for years in chemistry lab while we were in college. I had a pretty big crush on him, but I was always too nervous or unsure about asking him out. Even though I’d suspected he was interested. After graduation, my best friend told me Bobby confessed he’d felt the same, but by then he’d moved to San Diego and I was coming to Atlanta. After that, I regretted never asking him out. That’s what went on my list. Don’t be afraid to ask out a guy you like. When I heard Bobby was back in town and asked how I was doing, I decided to shoot my shot.”

  Darcy stopped filming and grinned at Nicola. “That’s fantastic, Nicola. I know this is a small thing compared to others on your list, but how many times have I waited for a guy to show he’s interested instead of just speaking up. I think it’s really cool that you’re doing this.”

  “It’s not that big of a deal. Most women aren’t afraid to ask someone out.”

  “But for those who are, this may give them a boost.”

  Nicola hoped so. She was afraid most viewers would look at her fear of asking a guy out and think she was old fashioned. That she wasn’t a modern woman. Would they understand that for Nicola, someone who’d never felt like she’d fit in, asking a guy out had been as scary as being stranded in the middle of the ocean surrounded by sharks?