The Greatest Risk by Cara Colter Page A

later, Maggie found herself in a huge fitting room with thick carpets and wall-to-wall mirrors. There was room for a leather armchair and a reading table heaped with fashion magazines. There was no sign on the door warning about the dangers of shoplifting, either.
    It was madness for Maggie to be here, and yet even so, she found herself skinning out of her clothes eagerly. She had hated the outfit she was wearing ever since shehad seen Luke eye it—and dismiss it—this morning. Camel had always been one of her favorite colors. Now, lying in a crumpled heap on the thick burgundy rug, her suit looked like leftover porridge.
    She didn’t even want to know what he might think of her plain cotton briefs and bra. Maggie slid the red dress over her head, and stood there for a minute with her eyes shut, not even wanting to look. The dress felt exquisite where it touched her skin, as light and feathery as a cloud.
    Maggie opened her eyes and gasped.
    The dress had been designed to show a woman at her very best. It looked deceptively simple, with its narrow spaghetti straps, snug bodice and a short skirt that swirled and lifted around her legs at the slightest movement.
    She was not sure how but the dress managed to turn each of her faults into an asset. Her curviest areas, hips and chest, looked amazing, sensuous and full. When she twirled she saw how the flare of the skirt, the lightness of the fabric drew attention to the long, clean line of her leg.
    It was the perfect summer dress, light, carefree, perky, flirty. It was a dress that celebrated all the mysteries and marvels and delights of being a woman.
    But eight hundred dollars? She’d paid only slightly more than that for her wedding gown!
    â€œCome show me,” Tracey called.
    Feeling as shy and as gauche as a farm girl fresh out of her overalls, Maggie emerged from the fitting room.
    â€œOh my God,” the girl said, and Maggie knew it was no sales pitch.
    â€œIt’s nice, isn’t it?” she asked, twirling experimentally in front of another bank of floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
    â€œNice? Oh, no. It’s not nice. It’s naughty as hell, and if you don’t buy it, you should have your head examined.”
    Maggie laughed. “I can’t pay eight hundred dollars for a dress.”
    The girl eyed her shrewdly. “Let me guess. Working. Professional something, like a teacher or a nurse. Single.”
    â€œThat all shows?” Maggie was going home and dumping the porridge suit in the garbage. She was unexciting and broadcasting it to the whole world!
    â€œSo, what do you spend your money on?” Tracey teased gently, “Your cat?”
    â€œI don’t have a cat,” Maggie admitted.
    â€œWell, then, you have absolutely no excuse not to treat yourself,” Tracey said. “He won’t be able to resist you.”
    â€œWho won’t be able to resist me? A homeless cat looking to change his circumstances?” Maggie asked innocently.
    â€œNobody looks at a dress like that unless there’s a he involved: human, male, ten-out-of-ten. Believe me. I’ve been working here a whole four months, and I know.”
    Maggie laughed. “I do believe you.” She turned and looked in the mirror again. Well, why not buy the dress? Tracey was right. Maggie spent money on rent and had collected some lovely pieces of furniture. She treated herself to all her favorite romance authors’ books, brand-new. She was saving for a down payment on a house. She had a car she adored.
    But when did she ever spend money on just making herself feel good, beautiful, one hundred percent a woman? The Bold and Beautiful seminars didn’t count!
    And neither did the wedding that had not happened, but still had had to be paid for. Maggie realized that hernon-wedding was the last time she had splurged on deliciously decadent things just for her. She had bought underwear and lingerie and sexy sundresses for the honeymoon