that sometimes you come up with something that strikes me as discreetly sexy. For our purposes, however, that’s not good enough.”
Honey? She’d thought she had remembered everything from the night before, but now she recalled that he had called her “honey” several times. She couldn’t decide whether she was in the middle of her worst nightmare, or if she was merely taking advantage of a gift from the gods. She was trying to convince herself it was the latter.
After Colin had left her office this afternoon, she had gone over every phrase of their conversation, turning his offer to help her attract Des inside out and upside down, and had still come to the same conclusion. He represented her best chance to get Des. But there was only so much she could let him get away with. “For your information, I’ve never suffered from a lack of men who’ve been interested in me.”
His brows rose. “Have any of those men been Des?”
Damn. He had her there. She chewed on her bottom lip.
“Exactly my point. We’ll go shopping tomorrow, but for tonight, I bought something for you to wear.” He disappeared into the hall, then reappeared with a glossy honey-colored dress box tied with a matching satin ribbon. She recognized the name on the box. It was from a very exclusive dress shop that carried only the best. She was relieved. At least the dress wouldn’t be a piece of trashy lingerie labeled as outerwear.
He handed her the box. “Go try it on. I’m pretty sure it’ll fit. There are shoes in there, too.”
She wasn’t even going to ask how he had known what dress and shoe size she wore. He was entirely too experienced with women for her peace of mind. She took the box from him and went into her gold-and-cream bathroom. With the door closed behind her, she stared at herself in the mirror, bewildered over her last thought. Why should she care how much experience Colin had with women? She shouldn’t. She didn’t .
With that firmly settled in her mind, she untied the bow, pulled off the lid, parted the honey-hued tissue paper and lifted out a handful of material. It was a deep hot pink and created out of some sort of silky blend. When she put it on over her head, it floated down around her, light as gossamer.
She stood at the full-length mirror, assessing herself, turning this way and that, all the while wondering why she felt so uncomfortable in the dress. There was nothing lewd or vulgar about it, and its designer was world-famous. Deservedly so.
The dress was almost a piece of art, ingeniously constructed so that it took nearly all its shape from her body. Clinging to her in an uninhibited manner, the material crisscrossed her breasts in free-form pleats to a plunging V neckline, then curved inward at her waist. From there, the light-as-air material followed the line of her hips to fall without restraint and end at midcalf. The back had the same plunging V.
The weightless material of the dress, combined with its cut, left her feeling as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all.
“How does it look?” Colin called.
“I’m not sure,” she muttered. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, more loudly. Or not, she thought.She couldn’t find a single fault with the dress, not the design, the fit or the fabric. But she felt… exposed .
She returned to the box and the shoes, which turned out to be the same color as the dress, with three-inch heels that were held to her feet with nothing but straps. Taking a few experimental steps, she found that the shoes felt surprisingly stable and , drat it, just her size. As for the size of the dress, it adhered to her body so well it was as if it had been made just for her.
She pulled the honey tissue paper from the box and gave it a good shake, hoping a cover-up of some sort might appear. Unfortunately, only a small pink purse fell out. She scooped it up and gave one last look at her image in the mirror; then, with dread and a strange, expectant flutter in her
Honey? She’d thought she had remembered everything from the night before, but now she recalled that he had called her “honey” several times. She couldn’t decide whether she was in the middle of her worst nightmare, or if she was merely taking advantage of a gift from the gods. She was trying to convince herself it was the latter.
After Colin had left her office this afternoon, she had gone over every phrase of their conversation, turning his offer to help her attract Des inside out and upside down, and had still come to the same conclusion. He represented her best chance to get Des. But there was only so much she could let him get away with. “For your information, I’ve never suffered from a lack of men who’ve been interested in me.”
His brows rose. “Have any of those men been Des?”
Damn. He had her there. She chewed on her bottom lip.
“Exactly my point. We’ll go shopping tomorrow, but for tonight, I bought something for you to wear.” He disappeared into the hall, then reappeared with a glossy honey-colored dress box tied with a matching satin ribbon. She recognized the name on the box. It was from a very exclusive dress shop that carried only the best. She was relieved. At least the dress wouldn’t be a piece of trashy lingerie labeled as outerwear.
He handed her the box. “Go try it on. I’m pretty sure it’ll fit. There are shoes in there, too.”
She wasn’t even going to ask how he had known what dress and shoe size she wore. He was entirely too experienced with women for her peace of mind. She took the box from him and went into her gold-and-cream bathroom. With the door closed behind her, she stared at herself in the mirror, bewildered over her last thought. Why should she care how much experience Colin had with women? She shouldn’t. She didn’t .
With that firmly settled in her mind, she untied the bow, pulled off the lid, parted the honey-hued tissue paper and lifted out a handful of material. It was a deep hot pink and created out of some sort of silky blend. When she put it on over her head, it floated down around her, light as gossamer.
She stood at the full-length mirror, assessing herself, turning this way and that, all the while wondering why she felt so uncomfortable in the dress. There was nothing lewd or vulgar about it, and its designer was world-famous. Deservedly so.
The dress was almost a piece of art, ingeniously constructed so that it took nearly all its shape from her body. Clinging to her in an uninhibited manner, the material crisscrossed her breasts in free-form pleats to a plunging V neckline, then curved inward at her waist. From there, the light-as-air material followed the line of her hips to fall without restraint and end at midcalf. The back had the same plunging V.
The weightless material of the dress, combined with its cut, left her feeling as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all.
“How does it look?” Colin called.
“I’m not sure,” she muttered. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, more loudly. Or not, she thought.She couldn’t find a single fault with the dress, not the design, the fit or the fabric. But she felt… exposed .
She returned to the box and the shoes, which turned out to be the same color as the dress, with three-inch heels that were held to her feet with nothing but straps. Taking a few experimental steps, she found that the shoes felt surprisingly stable and , drat it, just her size. As for the size of the dress, it adhered to her body so well it was as if it had been made just for her.
She pulled the honey tissue paper from the box and gave it a good shake, hoping a cover-up of some sort might appear. Unfortunately, only a small pink purse fell out. She scooped it up and gave one last look at her image in the mirror; then, with dread and a strange, expectant flutter in her
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