“Of course it fits. If there were two of you wearing the clothes it would still fit.”
She burned with the need to stick out her tongue at Margo, but she tamped down the childish urge and lifted her chin. “I’m not trying any of those clothes on. It’s a waste of my time and yours. They won’t fit.”
“We’ll see about that,” Margo replied before flouncing off in a huff.
Marie stood in the dressing room preventing Faith’s escape, her arms crossed in front of her chest and a smug look on her flawless face.
Faith released a sigh. Margo was going to get the correct sizes for her.
Her sigh turned to a gasp when she came back with Ryan in tow.
There was nowhere to run and absolutely no place to hide. She didn’t even have her own clothes as those vicious saleswomen had removed them from the dressing room. The women smiled and left her alone with Ryan.
Alone with her husband, and there she was in nothing but some black, lacy handkerchief.
Ryan stood there, mouth agape, and looked her over from head to toe. His eyes burned smoky and hot as his gaze took in her br**sts, hips and legs.
Short of using the chair as clothing, she had nothing to cover herself with except her own hands. This was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her.
“Wow,” he rasped, his eyes raking over her.
Ready to self combust in agonizing embarrassment, Faith could do nothing but stand inspection under his heated gaze.
Ryan cleared his throat. “Margo said you were having a disagreement about sizes.”
Willing herself to disappear, she heaved a sigh. “There is no disagreement. I know what size I wear.”
A feminine hand slipped through the door and handed Ryan a dress.
He took it and stepped toward her.
“Why don’t you try this on?” He handed Faith the black dress that she’d already told the women would never fit.
She grabbed it and held it in front of her, grateful at least for its blanketing abilities. “It’s the wrong size.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. Put it on. If it fits, you agree to try on the rest of the clothes. If it doesn’t, I’ll have Margo take all these back and bring the size you want.”
Now he was making sense. She nodded and waited for him to leave.
He didn’t.
“I said I’d try it on,” she said.
“Do it now.”
With a frustrated sigh, she stepped into the dress, turning her back so he could zip it up.
He slipped the zipper up in one easy move and Faith turned around to look in the mirror.
Dear God. That was her body? The dress fit like it was part of her skin, hugging every curve. It was made of the softest silk and cashmere, with long, tight-fitting sleeves. And instead of ending at her calves like her usual clothes, it stopped at mid-thigh, making her legs look long and slender instead of short and pudgy.
“Wow,” Ryan commented.
He stood behind her and assessed her from her face to her feet.
“Wow,” he said again.
He seemed to like that word a lot. Admittedly, she felt the same way as she perused herself in the mirror. And she’d never once in her entire life said wow about her own reflection.
Their eyes met and lingered. The dressing room suddenly seemed to shrink.
“That dress fits, Faith. Perfectly.”
She couldn’t believe, wouldn’t believe that was actually her in the mirror.
“Look how it hugs your shoulders and arms, dips in the waist and swells out over your hips.” He trailed his hand lightly down her arms, circling her waist briefly before caressing her hips and lingering there.
Her breathing stilted as she tried to control her body’s response to his touch. His hands lazily clenched her hips, drawing her subtly against the front of him. Her butt connected with his hips and she sucked in a surprised breath at the sizzling contact.
She watched them in the mirror, his large hand squeezing and releasing the flesh at her hips. She knew he could feel her rapid inhalations against his chest, but for the life of her she couldn’t regulate her breathing. Not when he touched her like that.
“This dress was made for you,” he murmured, his breath warm as it ruffled against her neck. “You look gorgeous.”
He had her, and he knew it. So did she.
“I…I guess the size is right after all. You can go get Margo and I’ll try on the rest.”
He didn’t let go of her quite yet, seeming to enjoy running his hands over her. The evidence of how much he enjoyed it pressed hard against her lower back. She inhaled and held her breath, suspended in time, not wanting this moment to end. No man had ever looked at her the way Ryan did, with pure, unadulterated heat in his gaze. If she was at all experienced, she’d know what to do about that. But since she wasn’t, all she could do was stare back at him, wishing she were a different person—more worldly, so she could take him up on the promise in his eyes.
Faith’s legs wobbled. Could Ryan feel her trembling?
With a sigh, he stepped back and walked out of the room, dissolving the spell. And then she could breathe again. Damn, but the man did strange things to her. Her pulse raced so fast it took a moment for the world to right itself. And all he’d done was look at her.
What was going to happen when they made love?
She wasn’t certain she’d live through the experience.
The masochistic saleswomen returned and subjected her to severe clothing torture. From work suits to dresses for both casual and social events, she was certain she had tried on every single item on the third floor. All in the size Margo picked. And from designers she’d only read about in women’s fashion magazines.
Then she was required to parade herself in front of Ryan so he could see each outfit. She could tell which ones he liked because his eyes lit up and he cast her that smoldering look she was growing uncomfortably familiar with. The man had great taste. Every outfit she loved, he loved.
The ones she cringed at the thought of wearing brought no spark from his eyes.
When she was certain they were through with the fashion show, the women brought out the accessories. Lingerie in every style and fabric, multiple colors and patterns. Bras, panties, garters, stockings, bustiers, chemises, slips and nightgowns. Faith had to choose the ones she liked while trying to think of anything but the fact that her husband might see her in them.
By the time they moved to shoes and handbags, trying different ensembles to go with different outfits, she was ready to scream from exhaustion.