spend in his room. “Can we charge the makeup to the room? I’ll pay you back.”
“Sure.” His eyes sparkled. His smile grew wicked. “And it’s my treat.”
The stylist swept the cape from around Georgia’s shoulders and Harry offered his hand to help her from the chair. It was a Cinderella moment that she had no business enjoying, but she couldn’t help it.
She hadn’t done a single thing for herself in so long that it was impossible to brush aside this feeling of discovering someone she’d thought lost.
She was well aware of why she and Harry were together, the full extent of what was at stake. But it had been years, literally years , since she’d considered herself attractive—not to mention since she’d felt confident that someone of the opposite sex found her so.
Harry did. She didn’t doubt it for a minute. Even if it did up the nerve-wracking factor of the long evening ahead in his company.
While Harry tipped the stylist and settled the bill, she took the bag of cosmetics from the cashier, absently noticing how the attention of every woman in the salon, whether overtly or subtly, was directed toward the checkout station and the fit of Harry’s clothes.
She wanted to laugh; here she was, panicking over sleeping near him when he could crook a finger and have any of these women in his bed.
And then she didn’t want to laugh at all.
She wanted to grab him by the arm and drag him out of there, leaving a battlefield of bloody cat scratches in her wake. Like he belonged to her or something, and how ridiculous was that? He was nothing but a man who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, who was going out of his way to get her out of a jam.
Finn would have done the same for a woman in need. Her ex, hardly. They’d been married, and he wouldn’t have done it for her. Unless there was something in it for him…Hmm. Too bad she hadn’t snapped to that before.
Harry scrawled his signature across the bottom of the ticket, then handed the pen to the cashier. Georgia cocked her head and considered what he could possibly hope to gain from helping her out. He was going to a lot of expense…and sex was the first thing, the only thing, that came to mind.
He turned toward her, that amazing smile reaching all the way to his eyes, and she backed into the corridor that connected the hotel’s lobby with the maze of others leading to meeting rooms, shops, sitting areas, gym lockers, and pricey amenities catering to the well-to-do guest. Like Harry.
“What?” he said, placing his palm in the small of her back and herding her toward the clothing boutique and her appointment there.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, glancing up as they walked.
He frowned, kept looking forward, looking…edible. “Doing what?”
“Spending all this money to clean me up.” She moved ahead, dislodging his hand and the possessive weight that she was liking way too much.
He caught up and settled it right back where it was, the spread of his fingers heavy and warm. “We’ve been over this already. You’re forking over a hundred and seventy-five bucks to get us into this reception.”
She snorted. “You just dropped more than that on my face and hair.”
“So?” he asked, guiding her around the richly carpeted corridor’s next corner.
“So, in this place, a dress and shoes are going to double your outlay, and we won’t be so even anymore.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “We could make a stop at Foley’s or J.C. Penney and save a bundle.”
This time he shook his head. “We’re out of time.”
“I just hope you’re not out of money.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because if things don’t go well tonight, I’ll need another dress for Sunday’s auction.”
He laughed, a chuckle that was low and deep and vibrated all the way to his palm where he touched her. “You’re forgetting something.”
She wasn’t surprised. She could barely even think. She was surprised she hadn’t
“Sure.” His eyes sparkled. His smile grew wicked. “And it’s my treat.”
The stylist swept the cape from around Georgia’s shoulders and Harry offered his hand to help her from the chair. It was a Cinderella moment that she had no business enjoying, but she couldn’t help it.
She hadn’t done a single thing for herself in so long that it was impossible to brush aside this feeling of discovering someone she’d thought lost.
She was well aware of why she and Harry were together, the full extent of what was at stake. But it had been years, literally years , since she’d considered herself attractive—not to mention since she’d felt confident that someone of the opposite sex found her so.
Harry did. She didn’t doubt it for a minute. Even if it did up the nerve-wracking factor of the long evening ahead in his company.
While Harry tipped the stylist and settled the bill, she took the bag of cosmetics from the cashier, absently noticing how the attention of every woman in the salon, whether overtly or subtly, was directed toward the checkout station and the fit of Harry’s clothes.
She wanted to laugh; here she was, panicking over sleeping near him when he could crook a finger and have any of these women in his bed.
And then she didn’t want to laugh at all.
She wanted to grab him by the arm and drag him out of there, leaving a battlefield of bloody cat scratches in her wake. Like he belonged to her or something, and how ridiculous was that? He was nothing but a man who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, who was going out of his way to get her out of a jam.
Finn would have done the same for a woman in need. Her ex, hardly. They’d been married, and he wouldn’t have done it for her. Unless there was something in it for him…Hmm. Too bad she hadn’t snapped to that before.
Harry scrawled his signature across the bottom of the ticket, then handed the pen to the cashier. Georgia cocked her head and considered what he could possibly hope to gain from helping her out. He was going to a lot of expense…and sex was the first thing, the only thing, that came to mind.
He turned toward her, that amazing smile reaching all the way to his eyes, and she backed into the corridor that connected the hotel’s lobby with the maze of others leading to meeting rooms, shops, sitting areas, gym lockers, and pricey amenities catering to the well-to-do guest. Like Harry.
“What?” he said, placing his palm in the small of her back and herding her toward the clothing boutique and her appointment there.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, glancing up as they walked.
He frowned, kept looking forward, looking…edible. “Doing what?”
“Spending all this money to clean me up.” She moved ahead, dislodging his hand and the possessive weight that she was liking way too much.
He caught up and settled it right back where it was, the spread of his fingers heavy and warm. “We’ve been over this already. You’re forking over a hundred and seventy-five bucks to get us into this reception.”
She snorted. “You just dropped more than that on my face and hair.”
“So?” he asked, guiding her around the richly carpeted corridor’s next corner.
“So, in this place, a dress and shoes are going to double your outlay, and we won’t be so even anymore.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “We could make a stop at Foley’s or J.C. Penney and save a bundle.”
This time he shook his head. “We’re out of time.”
“I just hope you’re not out of money.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because if things don’t go well tonight, I’ll need another dress for Sunday’s auction.”
He laughed, a chuckle that was low and deep and vibrated all the way to his palm where he touched her. “You’re forgetting something.”
She wasn’t surprised. She could barely even think. She was surprised she hadn’t
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