As skilled as she was at chess, she sensed that Sebastian was no amateur at his tactics.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
On Saturday morning Leah regarded her reflection critically in the dressing room mirror of the Buttercup Boutique.
She did not have the funds to spend more than a meager amount of money on clothes. The ladies at the boutique understood this. They also knew Leah’s taste for classic-yet-current clothing. Bright, clear colors. Collared shirts and fitted cardigans. Sweaters. Tailored pants. Items that affirmed her uniqueness. They called Leah when something they thought she might like went on sale. Over time, they’d helped her curate items into a small capsule wardrobe.
The sapphire blue dress she had on at the moment wasn’t exactly a capsule piece. But at thirty-seven dollars, the price was right. Plus, it seemed just the thing for a date with Sebastian Grant.
The neckline folded over into a panel that traveled straight across her chest and around her upper arms, leaving her shoulders bare. It fit snugly to just below her waist then flared into folds that ended at her knees. Simple, yet sophisticated. Modest, yet flattering.
She angled her back toward the mirror and looked over her shoulder at her reflection.
What was she doing?
She should rebel against Sebastian’s wooing techniques by dressing in her very worst clothing for tonight’s date. Perhaps pajamabottoms and the stretched-out Jabba the Hutt T-shirt Dylan had given her when he was eleven?
She couldn’t bring herself to give that plan serious consideration.
In part, because she was strangely ... excited about tonight’s date.
In part, because she had pride, after all.
She could pair this dress with the 1930s-inspired high-heeled Mary Janes she already owned.
One of the boutique’s employees stopped outside the dressing room to check on her.
“I’ll take it,” Leah said.
Leah answered Sebastian’s knock a few minutes before seven that night to find him on her threshold, wearing a suit and confidence.
The visual power of the scene before her—the lines of his charcoal jacket, his snowy white shirt, black hair gleaming in the light of her fixtures—was too overwhelming to absorb.
“Good evening,” Leah said, acutely glad that she’d splurged on a new dress.
“Good evening.”
She gestured for him to come inside and discovered more to adjust to. The sight of Sebastian Grant inherhome. He was larger than she’d recalled, more debonair.
In the direction of her brother’s room she called, “Dylan, come out and say hello.”
No response.
Sebastian stared at her with admiration in his eyes.
What was she supposed to do with a large and debonair man? Dating was awful. The worst of all inventions. “I will not be kissing you at the conclusion of this evening,” she announced.
Humor tugged at his lips. “That’s fine. In fact, I’m glad youbrought that up. In a way, I forced you to go out with me. But I’d never force you into a kiss.”
“Excellent.”
“When we kiss—”
“Ifwe kiss.”
“It will only be because you want to.”
Ruefully, she already wanted to.
