“Those are taller,” he says.
“Observant.”
“Are you trying to injure yourself?”
“I am trying to look incredible.”
“You always look incredible.”
I feel heat creep up my neck.
“Careful, Doc,” I mutter. “You’re getting soft.”
He flashes me a crooked smile as he leans against the wall, just watching me try on shoe after shoe.
Thirty minutes later, there are six boxes open around me. Beckett is holding two handbags because they caught my eye. He hasn’t complained once.
I stand in a pair of deep red heels.
His expression shifts.
His jaw tightens.
“Those,” he says quietly. “Are a problem.”
My heart does a little jump. “Define problem.”
“We won’t make it to dinner.”
I walk toward him, testing them. “Too much?”
“No.”
“Too bold?”
“No.”
“Too high?”
“Yes.”
I smile. “Perfect.”
He runs a hand over his mouth. “Are you enjoyingthis?”
“Immensely.”
The assistant reappears with a mirror and asks if we’d like to see them in better light.
Beckett says, “No.”
I say, “Yes.”
We follow her.
There’s a long mirror at the back of the shop. I stand in front of it, turning. He stands behind me, his hands in his pockets.
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “You really want to take me on a date?”
