Chapter One
Danyka’s eyes flew open. The phone danced around on her nightstand. The numbers on her alarm clock blurred and came into focus. Seven o’clock. Shit! She’d meant to nap for an hour, but had slept for three. She fumbled for the device, but it stopped before she could reach it.
Eighties pop music jived from her Android again, sending it into another jig. Grabbing the phone, she pressed it against her head. “Hello?”
“Dany, where are you?” Her friend, Ellie, squealed on the other end.
Danyka yanked the phone from her ear and rubbed, before listening again.
“We’re waiting outside—in the limo.”
Double shit. She needed a shower and time to dress in her eighteenth-century inspired designer gown. Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose and fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to gain some control over her body. “Give me half an hour to get ready. Can you come back?”
Ellie sighed. “Fine, it’s your dollar. See you in a bit.”
No, it wasn’t her dollar, but her boss’s. Personal assistant to Josh Summers, film producer, she’d intended to enjoy her two weeks off—while he traveled across Europe on his honeymoon—and her sizable bonus. She’d picked up the envelope that had held the extra cash and three tickets to the Kartha Studio’s charity ball and pulled out a note.
Danyka,
Take two friends and have fun! Connie from Connie’s Couture, will take care of all of your gowns, and a limo will provide transportation there and home (if you need it then). Enjoy yourself while I’m gone, because we’ll be working crazy hours when Tamara and I get back.
Thanks for your dedication these last two years!
Josh
She’d fist-pumped the air before spinning in circles around her apartment when she’d read it. The ball would be A-list celebrities and industry giants from wall-to-wall. She’d phoned her friends, Ellie and Vanessa, right away, barely able to contain her excitement. But when they’d visited Connie’s to find dresses, she’d been filled with a sense of dread, reminded again of her freakish size. While she’d been granted womanly curves and a considerable bust, she towered over most men. She even had a couple of inches on Josh.
He’d never seemed to care, but when it came to finding a boyfriend, or even a date, her options were limited. Any guy she’d met taller than herself seemed to prefer women half her size. Those shorter than her gawked from a distance, but their eyes bulged out of their sockets when she approached them. On occasion, a short slimeball would come on to her, wondering what it would be like to do a giant. There would be civilized, respectable men at the ball. At least, she hoped so. In the end though, she expected to spend the night alone.
Her friends had found their dream gowns after trying on what seemed like hundreds of dresses, but she hadn’t had a single choice. There had been one she’d admired. Connie took her measurements and promised to search for a similar one in her size. Instead, on the day she went to pick it up, the woman had surprised her with a custom-made dress.
Sliding off the bed, she groaned. Her knees were already sore from the impending precipitation. Her joints were as good a gauge as any other high-tech gadget to measure the barometric pressure. Plus, she planned to wear heels the entire night, making it a double-whammy. There had better be someplace to sit down, because it’s not as if anyone is going to ask me to dance anyway.
After a quick shower, she pinned her hair up, sprinkled glitter all over, and slipped on a black thong. Then she carefully placed her pasties. Okay, time for the gown.
Unzipping the polyester bag, she gasped. The magnificence of the dress still shocked her every time she saw it. She brushed her hand across the pleated red silk of the skirt. But she didn’t have time to bask in its elegance. At least not until she had it on. She stepped into her red net petticoat, sliding it up to her waist, and spun in a circle. Oh, how she missed her childhood ballet classes. Even then, she’d towered over the rest of the students. Though classes hadn’t made her any less clumsy, as her parents had hoped, the friends she’d made there never let her believe she was anything less than a prima ballerina. As they pirouetted in front of the mirrors, in leotards and tutus, she’d forget her size.
With her stature and blazing auburn hair, she always attracted unfavorable attention. Tonight, though, she wanted people to stare, and maybe, just maybe, her knight in shining armor would arrive to sweep her off her feet.
She wiggled the skirt on and brushed her hands down the material to smooth it out. Almost ready.
Deciding to forgo the detachable straps, Danyka wrapped the red silk corset around her torso, buttoning it up in the front. With a squeal of delight, she raced to the mirror.
She couldn’t help but twirl like a little girl. Before this moment, nothing in her life had resembled a fairy tale, except landing the position as Josh’s assistant. At the age of sixteen, she’d been orphaned when her parents died in a horrific car accident. Her aunt had agreed to take her in, rather than sending her to a group home, but the woman had spent as little time with her as possible, always busy planning some important event.
With her back toward the mirror, Danyka caught sight of the ink on her right shoulder. The Milky Way—a tribute to her and her dad’s shared love for space and science fiction. The day she’d come home with her first tattoo, her aunt had decided she should find an apartment of her own. Lucky for her, Ellie and Vanessa, classmates from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, had needed a roommate. They’d since graduated and found their own places, but remained close as they made their way in the real world.
She suspected her interests made her a perfect fit for Josh, a former sci-fi television star, now producing his own space flick. The tattoo had never bothered him, but would it be inappropriate at a charity ball? Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier? She didn’t have time to have her mark covered up. No, the ink would be just another way for her to stand out in the crowd.
Once she’d applied her make-up, she fished in her closet and pulled out her brand new black slingbacks—matching the lacing on the back of her dress—still in their box. They’d probably be off again in a couple of hours. She and heels never got along. When she opened the box, a small brown paper package lay on top. Where did that come from?
The bag felt weightless in her palm. She removed a small piece of tape, letting a handkerchief and note fall to the floor. The red silk material could have been made from the same fabric as her dress, her initials DAR embroidered in the corner with black thread. Combined with the gown, shoes, and her awaiting carriage, the silk accessory completed her transformation into a princess. All she needed was a Prince Charming.
After a quick glance at the clock, she picked up the note. She had seconds to read it before fashionably late turned into rude. Although the paper came from Josh’s personalized notepad, the handwriting did not match that of her boss.
Danyka,
I hope you enjoy yourself at the Kartha Ball tonight! As we figured Ellie and Vanessa would be going with you, we have an extra special surprise for you and you alone. Although Josh and I don’t discuss this with anyone, we met through a dating service called 1Night Stand. The owner, Madame Evangeline, has matched up not only us, but many of my close friends. We have arranged for you to go on one of these dates tonight. We hope we have not overstepped our bounds, but we consider you part of our family and want to see you happy.
Your date, whoever he may be, will meet you at the ball.
Have a wonderful time, and enjoy the rest of your holidays!
Tamara
They had arranged a date for her? She restrained the urge to jump up and down and whoop in delight, blowing out a breath and remaining calm. Another part of her cringed. Was she so desperate she had to rely on a matchmaking service to find a man? A one-night stand at that?
Her gaze shifted to her nightstand, the drawer inside filled with vibrators, rubber dildos, and more. Oh yeah, that screamed desperation. All right, Eve, bring on a real man.
She set the note down on the bed. Grabbing her clutch on the way out the door, she couldn’t help but smile. She might not be off to meet the man she would marry, but she hoped to end the night completely satisfied.
***
Galan drummed his fingers against the counter. He hadn’t expected to have such a hard time finding eighteenth century dress, specifically a knee-length justacorps-style coat and breeches. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find any, but none of the costume shops he’d visited had anything in his size. His thighs prevented him from wearing most pants, and the width of his back caused coat after coat to rip in the seams. Did they grow them that small here?
At last, he’d found the perfect costume for the ball at a quaint boutique named Connie’s Couture. The elegant black outfit, with red silk shirt and stockings, seemed to have been tailored for him, although he’d never been to this area during his travels.
Connie remained in the back, completing some last minute adjustments to his clothing, while he ran through his mental list of everything he needed to purchase before he met his date. Flowers, breath mints…what else?
A hotel room waited for them at the Castillo Hotel, where the ball would take place, but he planned to take his date elsewhere, if she agreed. Traveling as much as he did, he grew lonely and wanted someone to share the wondrous places he often visited. His brother as his companion wasn’t enough. No, he wanted a woman to settle down with rather than finding a new source of temporary satisfaction at every port.
During his last stopover, he’d avoided all his and Volan’s usual haunts, instead spending his evenings on the beaches of Somnium, contemplating his life. And his next voyage. A friend of a friend had recommended the 1Night Stand dating service he’d heard about on Earth. Still, he’d had reservations. He wasn’t like any of the men he’d met around the Terran city of Las Vegas. But he’d filled out the forms, and learned yesterday about his date.
His life had been a scramble since, with no time to inform his brother of his plans. What would Volan think of the arrangement? He’d been quite happy with a variety of women, and never hinted at the need to settle down. Would his brother be respectful of his change in lifestyle? Didn’t matter. He’d already made his decision, so long as his date went well. He needed something different. Maybe his conversion would influence Volan to commit to one woman.
“All set, Mr. Galan.” Connie rushed from the back room, a black polyester bag across her arm. “I hope you have a wonderful time at the ball tonight and charm the lucky woman you’re going to meet.”
He smiled, setting additional currency on the counter to compensate the woman for her extra time and attention. Clasping her by the shoulders, he air-kissed her cheeks in the same way she’d greeted him when he arrived. “Thank you, Ms. Connie. I appreciate all your time. Now, I must get going, as I am already very late.”
She handed him the bag. “Why don’t you change here? The Castillo is a block away, and this way I can see my hard work.”
He hoped his date would be as sweet as the woman before him. “That would be great. Thank you, again.”
She ushered him toward a closet-sized room, closing the curtain behind him. She’d already demonstrated how to dress in the period costume, so he donned the outfit in minimal time. The breeches cupped him with precision, as he decided to forgo traditional undergarments. He stared at his reflection. Perhaps he could fit in at the ball, dressed as an eighteenth century Terran, long enough to woo the woman who waited for him.
Exiting the changing room, Galan stood in the middle of the store, waiting for Connie’s approval. “Well?”
“If I didn’t have a charming man of my own, I’d hope I was your date for the ball.” She handed him a small plastic container, holding a delicate red rose.
“What’s this?” He’d expected to buy a bouquet of flowers rather than just one. What would he do with one tiny flower?
“It’s for her wrist. I know it’s not fitting to the time period, but I’m sure she’ll love it.”
He took the container from her, kissing her on the cheek this time. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I’m glad to have met you.”
She nodded. “Now go, before she thinks you’ve stood her up.”
Rushing out the door, he set his sights on the Castillo Hotel, lights shining brighter than any other on the strip. Long, black cars still arrived with men and woman dressed for the ball. Good. I’m not late.
He hurried into the hotel and to the ball room, flashing his invitation at the door. He’d made sure to grab it before leaving Connie’s Couture but left his regular clothing there. He wouldn’t need any of the local fashions anyway, for he planned on leaving in the morning. He only hoped his date would come along for the trip.
Searching the room, worry gnawed at his gut. None of the women inside suited his preferences. Had Madame Evangeline made a mistake? He ducked his head under the ivy-laced trellis to step in farther. He’d been told his date would come up past his stomach. There had to be a woman on Earth fitting that description, and he trusted she waited for him in the room.