“Hell, yes,” I say. Something passes over his handsome face for a beat but it’s gone with a chuckle. He pours us both a very full flute.
“H-how did you know I like fashion?” I ponder out loud as I stare after the shopkeeper.
“Um, because I have eyes?” I lock gazes with him. “You do remember I have been there, too? At the Canton weddings, the parties, and I think even a couple charity galas Skye dragged you to. You always wear black but everything you wear is, you know, cool. Cooler than everyone else. Yet another reason I didn’t bother trying to impress you.”
I narrow my eyes at him, “You almost had me going there.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not for a second. Sam must’ve told you about my tastes. There’s no way you were paying that much attention to me. And, I still say if you’d wanted to flirt with me, you would have.”
“And waste all this charm on someone who wouldn’t appreciate it? Who would say, what’s the word you keep using?” He makes a face,“Ew.”
“Kind of like the face you made when you got stuck with me on sightseeing day of the wedding,” I mutter.
“When we shared a buggy?”
“We call them mopeds.”
He leans in and his voice changes, going low and gritty as he asks, “You think I didn’t enjoy having your curves wrapped around me all afternoon? You think I didn’t drive faster just so you would hold on tighter?”
He is suddenly very close to me and smells very good and I…am I panting?
“Y-you…you spent all your time making g-googly eyes at Skye’s sister,” I stammer, affected by his hooded eyes and whatever sex voice just slipped out of his perfect mouth.
He leans back and chuckles, “That was to piss off Shep Riggs. Wanker.”
I laugh too, “Okay, fair. He is a bit of a wanker.”
Skye’s older sister, Sadie, married her long lost love, a college football star turned ESPN announcer. He’s hot and cocky and absolutely comes across as a total douche canoe until you get to know him. I don’t think anyone makes more fun of him than he makes of himself, though.
We laugh off whatever was just happening, but I see Benedict’s light dim a bit as I look away awkwardly. It’s not that I can’t appreciate his charm. I’m out on all charm, period. It’s not personal.
But Leanne is back, saving us from the sexual tension turned awkward tension.
“Let’s start with these,” she says as she takes nine dresses into a curtained dressing room. “I’ve included a few undergarments for these as well, just in case.” I’m about to ask about how she knows my sizes but stop myself. Again, this is Billionaire World. She must get annual-salary-sized-commissions. It’s her job to spot sizes on sight.
“Th-thanks,” I reply as I head into the little cubicle.
“Do let me know if you need any help, darling!” Benedict teases.
But I don’t need help, because Leanne is scary-good at her job. The dresses are cute and flirty and fun until the sixth one. It’s…amazing. It’s above the knee, layered chiffon, with some curl and body to it. It’s off the shoulders and pulls in my waist, with playful ruffles that flow across my arms and chest. It feels like butter and looks like a cloud. But classy. I’m not petite and I’velearned to be fine with that. But this dress makes me feel…light. Airy. I love it.
“You alright?” Ben finally says when he notices the stepping and the zipping, unzipping, shifting and grunting have finally stopped.
“Y-yeah,” I say, stepping out.
He stands when he sees me, a jerky involuntary motion that almost makes me laugh.
“Better than all right,” he says, “Damn it, I…you….I need a tux now.”
I turn and look at him and realize he’s changed from his crisp white shirt and slacks to a black suit and tie.
“What’s wrong with that suit?”
“Leanne,” he calls, ignoring me. “Look at her. Just look.”
She puts her hand to her chest and gasps when she sees me.
