“But anyway, my pride is smarting like crazy after he insulted my dress choice,” she continued after a moment. “I’m truly torn, Kate. I want to show him that I can look fantastic but don’t care what he thinks, either. I know you’re catering for our event tonight, but do you think you can take an hour off to help make me look good?”
“Good enough to make Jules eat his words?”
“Yes!” Molly laughed, grabbing a frilly pink pillow and playfully smacking Kate with it.
She pictured Julian’s face when he saw her walk through those elevator doors. Oooooh, it would be priceless. He’d look stunned and shocked and he would definitely no longer think Molly needed a new mirror.
And Garrett? He would regret every hour of these days they had been spending apart when they could have spent them together. Necking.
Kate slapped the pillow back at Molly, laughing. “Yes, I’ll give you a makeover. But Molls?”
“Hmm?” Molly was already storming into her bedroom, rummaging through her closet in search of options that would make a man’s mouth water. She didn’t have a lot. But she still found a very nice dress in Kate’s closet. She extended it to her sister, loving how the sapphire silk fabric shimmered in the light. “It has the tag on,” Molly said aloud.
“Take it off,” Kate said excitedly, and pulled on the plastic.
Molly shook her head. “But it’s new. I can’t wear this.”
“Yes, you can. I was saving it for a rainy day. You’d look so lovely, Moo.”
“I wish you’d stop calling me Moo. I feel like a cow.” Molly hung the dress back up with a sigh, and her heart clenched for her sister. “I’ll borrow this one day, but only after you wear it. When it rains.”
They shared a smile, and minutes later, Molly found another dress in her sister’s closet. It was black, fitted, and had an open back that was to die for. Molly tried it on backward and loved it so much, she decided she was doing things her own special way and cut off the label. She’d wear it this way and show plenty of cleavage tonight.
By that evening, after spending a wonderful day with Kate, getting her makeover and even helping her sister finish loading some of tonight’s munchies into the catering van, Molly arrived at Julian’s posh apartment building, her heart pounding in anticipation.
Her hair was held loosely by a shimmering crystal butterfly clasp, with a few soft tendrils escaping along her temples. She wasn’t used to pulling her hair back, but it seemed to emphasize her features this way. Her round cheekbones, her plump lips.
Her insecurities flickered to the forefront as she asked the bellhop to hold her canvases and paints below until she rang for them. He kept staring at her as if he’d never seen her before, and she wanted to run back home and put on a boho skirt, let her hair down and grab a huge pair of earrings.
But no. This was not the time to feel insecure.
She would show Julian sexy and confident if it killed her.
She crossed the marble lobby with purpose, aware of her hips swaying, the material clinging to her skin. Garrett was going to like what she was wearing; if he’d liked the wench costume, then he would love this one for sure. And if Julian didn’t like it? Her stomach did a twist inside her, and she wondered what that meant. Hopefully it meant screw him.
She wasn’t wearing this for him. At all.
Taking in a deep breath, she waved at the receptionist and pushed the elevator’s up button.
All right. Here goes nothing….
* * *
The elevator chimed, and Julian glanced up from the bar and almost dropped the bottle of wine he’d been examining. It was a Penfolds Grange Hermitage 1951—so rare and prized, only twenty bottles were left in the entire world, with the last having sold at auction for almost fifty thousand dollars.
But who cared about that now?
Because an exotic-looking creature resembling Molly had just stepped off the elevator, and something that felt like a paddle struck him in the chest, the gut and right between his straining eyeballs.
Holy mama.
He’d though this morning had been tough, watching that redheaded little package prance around in an old T-shirt of his with those curvy bare legs begging to be stroked.
And now…
He was certain that never in his life, after dating models, actresses and even a pampered princess, had he been as fired up by the sight of a woman as he was this instant, watching Molly Devaney and her pinup body walk toward him in that minuscule black dress.
She looked like a sexpot. A sex goddess. A sex bomb. Awakening every Neanderthal instinct inside of him.
Julian could hardly take her all in with one long sweep of his eyes, he was so dumbstruck.
Her titian hair was drawn back into some sort of careless knot, but several soft wisps escaped to frame her lovely face, the overall look enhancing the delicacy of her doll-like features. Her lovely, heart-shaped lips shone with a peach-colored gloss, and whatever silver-gray shade of eye shadow she’d worn made her eyes look even rounder and bluer than usual. Her earrings were small pearly dots, unlike her usual flashy chandelier style, and they made her look so elegant he wanted to fly her to Monaco on his jet right now and seat her next to him at a baccarat table.
Then the dress. Ahh, the dress. The satiny black fabric fell from her nape to drape over a pair of beautiful round breasts he’d kill to taste while the plunging neckline revealed inches and inches of smooth porcelain skin in the cleavage between. The skirt was barely a couple of inches long, and it hugged her rounded hips like Lycra. Suddenly he wanted to be that skirt. That dress. That cloth that molded to her and felt her and hugged her and practically rode those curves all over the place.
Molly had always been the funniest baby, the happiest baby he’d ever seen in his life. She cackled all the time. Especially with him. Now she was entirely, 100 percent, take-me-serious woman. And Julian was primed to stop mucking around with her and ready to do some serious, serious things with her. Aww, crap!
This was going to be a long night.
Schooling his expression, he set the wine bottle down and noticed his hand wasn’t so steady. Not while his heart was doing vaults and backflips. “Is something wrong with your usual clothes, Molls?” He was amazed his voice made it past his dry throat.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” She planted her hands on her hips, thrusting her chin up in a silent dare. “They’re not sophisticated and sexy, according to you.”