gruffly.
She turned the handle and stepped back. He closed the door and leaned against it. Arms crossed over his chest, he studied her the way an art connoisseur would study a painting by one of the Dutch masters. “You look lovely.”
Of course she did. When the price tag on a dress was just shy of a thousand dollars, one thing you could count on was a dress that fit well. “It’s not me.”
“Of course it is. This exactly what I had in mind for this evening.” Gently he held her arms out from her sides. There was something innately sexual in his gaze now. She felt awareness spread through her body. Only Deacon had this kind of power over her.
He put his hand on her hip and turned her toward the mirror. He stood a few paces behind her in his designer suit. Seeing the two of them together in the mirror made her realize that they looked like a couple. A very good-looking and successful couple. Her lightness complemented his darkness.
“We look perfect,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her back to rest against him.
“Deacon, this isn’t the real me.”
He lowered his head to nibble on her neck. Shivers spread down her body, pooling in her center.
“I’d say this is the real you,” he murmured against her skin.
She couldn’t concentrate on how right it felt to be in his arms. She knew he didn’t mean that the real her was the one in his arms. He meant the woman in the dress. “I’d never spend this much on one dress. Why can’t I look at the sale rack? I’ll find something there, I promise.”
He shook his head. The hand on her waist started to move upward. Tracing the delicate pattern on the filmy over-dress.
“You don’t have to buy off the sale rack. This is my gift to you.”
“Well, I won’t be able to eat in this gift.”
“Why not? Is it too tight?”
The indulgent tone in his voice usually thrilled her, but today it sounded almost patronizing. “No, it’s not too tight. I’d be worried about ruining it.”
“I want to give you something nice. If not this dress, how about one of these?” he said, gesturing at the pile of rainbow-colored dresses the saleswoman had gathered for her at Deacon’s request.
“It’s not this dress. It’s this place. I feel like…”
“Like what?” he asked, stepping away from her.
God, she missed his touch. How was she ever going to settle back into her old routine once she was home?
“An impostor. A fraud. Like I’m trying to be someone I’m not.”
“You’d never do that, Kylie. Of all the people I’ve ever met, you are one of the few who really knows who she is.”
“Yes, I do. But you don’t know who I am.”
He ran his fingers through his thick hair, sighing heavily. “I just want this to be a night to remember. I don’t expect you to wear the dress every day.”
“I’m making too much of this, aren’t I.”
“Yes. Why?”
“I…I gave up part of myself for my husband. I tried to be what he wanted in a wife and I vowed to never do that again.”
“I’m not asking you to be an evening-gown-wearing woman.”
“I know that in my rational mind. But my heart, Deacon, my heart is urging me to do whatever I have to in order to please you.”
“You do please me, Kylie, in ways you’ll never understand.”
Deacon left the dressing room and paid for Kylie’s dress and shoes. He asked the saleswoman, Maria, to send Kylie next door for a hair and makeup appointment. He left a note for Kylie explaining he’d return to take her to dinner.
He had some last-minute arrangements to take care of. Though Mac had ribbed him about it, Deacon had purchased one of those bridal magazines. He had found an article featuring the most romantic proposals and had decided to combine a few of them when he asked Kylie to marry him.
He wanted her to be so bowled over by him that she forgot his earlier faux pas. When he couldn’t tell her how he felt. Admitting he’d missed her carried a price that was too high.
She turned the handle and stepped back. He closed the door and leaned against it. Arms crossed over his chest, he studied her the way an art connoisseur would study a painting by one of the Dutch masters. “You look lovely.”
Of course she did. When the price tag on a dress was just shy of a thousand dollars, one thing you could count on was a dress that fit well. “It’s not me.”
“Of course it is. This exactly what I had in mind for this evening.” Gently he held her arms out from her sides. There was something innately sexual in his gaze now. She felt awareness spread through her body. Only Deacon had this kind of power over her.
He put his hand on her hip and turned her toward the mirror. He stood a few paces behind her in his designer suit. Seeing the two of them together in the mirror made her realize that they looked like a couple. A very good-looking and successful couple. Her lightness complemented his darkness.
“We look perfect,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her back to rest against him.
“Deacon, this isn’t the real me.”
He lowered his head to nibble on her neck. Shivers spread down her body, pooling in her center.
“I’d say this is the real you,” he murmured against her skin.
She couldn’t concentrate on how right it felt to be in his arms. She knew he didn’t mean that the real her was the one in his arms. He meant the woman in the dress. “I’d never spend this much on one dress. Why can’t I look at the sale rack? I’ll find something there, I promise.”
He shook his head. The hand on her waist started to move upward. Tracing the delicate pattern on the filmy over-dress.
“You don’t have to buy off the sale rack. This is my gift to you.”
“Well, I won’t be able to eat in this gift.”
“Why not? Is it too tight?”
The indulgent tone in his voice usually thrilled her, but today it sounded almost patronizing. “No, it’s not too tight. I’d be worried about ruining it.”
“I want to give you something nice. If not this dress, how about one of these?” he said, gesturing at the pile of rainbow-colored dresses the saleswoman had gathered for her at Deacon’s request.
“It’s not this dress. It’s this place. I feel like…”
“Like what?” he asked, stepping away from her.
God, she missed his touch. How was she ever going to settle back into her old routine once she was home?
“An impostor. A fraud. Like I’m trying to be someone I’m not.”
“You’d never do that, Kylie. Of all the people I’ve ever met, you are one of the few who really knows who she is.”
“Yes, I do. But you don’t know who I am.”
He ran his fingers through his thick hair, sighing heavily. “I just want this to be a night to remember. I don’t expect you to wear the dress every day.”
“I’m making too much of this, aren’t I.”
“Yes. Why?”
“I…I gave up part of myself for my husband. I tried to be what he wanted in a wife and I vowed to never do that again.”
“I’m not asking you to be an evening-gown-wearing woman.”
“I know that in my rational mind. But my heart, Deacon, my heart is urging me to do whatever I have to in order to please you.”
“You do please me, Kylie, in ways you’ll never understand.”
Deacon left the dressing room and paid for Kylie’s dress and shoes. He asked the saleswoman, Maria, to send Kylie next door for a hair and makeup appointment. He left a note for Kylie explaining he’d return to take her to dinner.
He had some last-minute arrangements to take care of. Though Mac had ribbed him about it, Deacon had purchased one of those bridal magazines. He had found an article featuring the most romantic proposals and had decided to combine a few of them when he asked Kylie to marry him.
He wanted her to be so bowled over by him that she forgot his earlier faux pas. When he couldn’t tell her how he felt. Admitting he’d missed her carried a price that was too high.
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