I twirled in front of the full-length mirror, giggling with excitement as I stared at my new dress. The tight bodice pushed up my breasts and gave me a daring cleavage. The short tight skirt barely reached my knees, making me feel bold and sexy as hell. The deep red color emphasized my golden blond hair and pale skin.

I felt like an erotic porcelain doll. Such a naughty thought made a red flush rush up my cheeks and made me look even more alluring.

"Perfect," I purred as I began to apply my make-up.

I wanted to look bold, daring, sexy as hell, and it did its job making me feel all those things. Not that I really needed its help, but a little support was always a good thing, especially on a night like tonight.

When a woman was getting ready to meet the love of her life, she needed all the help that she could get.

At least that's how I felt about it anyway.

We had been in Paris for a little under a week. And I had already met the love of my life, Jean-Pierre.

Our first date had been magical! Just thinking about it, I would sigh and twirl around once again, like a silly schoolgirl.

We met at a little coffee shop downtown. This man had been so sweet and charming that I couldn't help but be swept off my feet immediately.

Once we were finished with our coffee, he took me for a walk down The Seine river, then dinner with a view of the Eiffel tower.

He was strong, confident, sweet, yet soooo naughty. The entire time we were together, he constantly had me blushing or giggling because of his sweet flirting ways. When he had finally walked me home, he gave me a gentle kiss that had made me want to swoon like a lady at court.

We had talked endlessly since that day until I was almost obsessed with him.

When he asked me to dinner tonight, I eagerly jumped on it and was beyond excited to see him again. He wanted to take me to this super exclusive club that he frequented. He wouldn't tell me much about it, wanting to keep it a surprise.

I gave another twirl in front of the mirror and giggled, loving the feeling of promise that Jean-Pierre presented me.

I heard a knock on my door and called my visitor in as I started to do my make-up.

"What the hell are you wearing?" An angry voice whipped through the room.

Using my mirror, I looked behind me and my eyes caught on Scott's face.

Scott was classically handsome with short, well-groomed blond hair and striking blue eyes. He always reminded me of Prince Charming, stepping right out of a fairytale book. That was until he frowned at me with a stern, disapproving look.

Like he was doing right now.

I straightened away from the mirror and turned around to face him.

"What do you want, Scott?" I asked, rolling my eyes at him in a way that I knew would make his teeth grind.

"Your mother wanted me to ask if you'd be joining her for dinner at the Harrington's," Scott replied with forced patience.

I turned back to the mirror, fluffed my hair, and fixed my lipstick before answering him again. For whatever reason, I really enjoyed irritating. Whenever I would see that flash of aggravation on his face, it would just make me want to laugh. I knew I was getting to him.

"Not tonight," I finally replied.

"Why not?" Scott asked, exasperated.

I rolled my eyes again at the sound of her overly terse voice.

At some point in time, Scott appointed himself my personal protector. It didn't help that he had been forced to catch me when I fell out of the tree on our first meeting.

It was aggravating most times. But helpful during those moments when I would find myself a little too over my head. No matter what trouble I got myself into, Scott would help me out of it with his classic frown and lecture on responsibility. Often, I would endure it, just grateful to be out of whatever situation I had gotten myself in.

But that wouldn't happen tonight. Tonight, I was finally going to get out from underneath Scott's watchful eye, and I was absolutely excited. Scott would be busy with his friends and their club and wouldn't have a chance to hunt me down and hover during my date tonight.

There was no way Scott was going to ruin this for me.

"Molly?" Scott snapped with a huff to get my attention.

"Oh, calm down, Scott," I brushed him off.

"Your mom was looking forward to spending some time with you. You really should go with her," Scott explained.

I winced and looked away from him so he wouldn't see how much his words actually meant to me. My mother, Williamina Daniels Harper Wilson Alderman Monroe, loved being a party-hopping socialite. She was a wonderful woman. Absolutely sweet and kind to everyone. But she loved the drama and gossip that always spanned those parties. She would tell me often that it was better than any TV show they could come up with.

Normally, I would agree with her. However, tonight was much more important to me than learning about the happenings before the society pages wrote about them. The image of Jean-Pierre drifted through my head, and my goofy smile returned.

"I understand my mother wants to spend time with me. But I'm sure she'll understand," I tried to reassure him.

I checked the time on my watch, then grabbed my purse and phone. I had told Jean-Pierre that I would meet him at the restaurant right around seven. I definitely did not want him coming here and being bombarded by my family.

Scott grabbed my wrist to stop me as I passed by him. His bright blue eyes had turned dark and stormy as he stared down at me. Scott seemed extremely upset about something. My best guess was that he didn't like that I was letting down my mother and not being "responsible" as he usually felt.

"What on earth is going on that is much more important than spending time with your mother?" Scott asked.

I gave him a broad grin and flipped my long, honey-blond hair over my shoulder. "I have a date, Scott. Mom would definitely understand if I would rather spend the night with a hunky French man than her scandal-driven friends," I explained, then swept out of the room with my head held high.

I almost laughed my way down the stairs when I heard Scott murmur something about me needing to get a jacket.

He could grumble and grip all he wanted. He was only ten years older than me. But he could be a stuffy old man at times.

I forcefully pushed all thoughts of Scott out of my head. He would NOT stop me from having an amazing night with the man of my dreams!