fact, she could go to hell.
He strode for the exit, swung back the door and barely refrained from slamming it shut behind him. He was halfway down the busy city block, near colliding with oblivious passers-by, when the steam clouding his brain cooled a degree and his locomotive pace slowed down. As much as he was attracted to Roxanne Trammel, she was a giant thorn in his side. He’d be wise never to see her again, under any circumstances.
But, if he were truthful, he understood her upset over his departure that night. He’d never done such a thing before and apologizing as he’d hightailed it away didn’t rub off any of the tarnish. But Roxy didn’t want a confession. She did, however, want to help her friend. He was convinced that Marla should at least hear Greg out, and that wouldn’t happen unless he swallowed his pride, turned around and tried to persuade Roxy one more time.
Roxy was still standing at the counter in that wedding gown, staring blindly at the accessories under that glass counter, when the doorbell tinkled and, hat in hand, he edged inside the shop again. She looked over and, straightening, opened her mouth. But he held up a hand.
‘Before you run me out of town again, let me say I was a jerk for bringing up that other night. It won’t happen again. But I can’t walk away without asking you one more time to help give those two the chance they deserve, the chance Marla would want if she were thinking clearly.’
‘Maybe she is thinking clearly.’
Weary now, he exhaled. Her middle name was stubborn. ‘Just give me five minutes to tell you what I have in mind.’
She tilted her head, thought some more.
‘Five minutes?’ she finally said. ‘That’s it?’
‘Won’t even take that long.’
She almost grinned. ‘Anyone would think you were sure of yourself.’
‘About this, I am.’
She set her hands on her satin-clad hips. After another tense moment, she visibly relaxed and inspected her dress.
‘Let me change first.’ Her lips twitched. ‘I don’t want to give you hives.’
Moving through that back door again, she lobbed a final remark over her shoulder. ‘If someone happens to walk in looking for their perfect dress, tell them I’ll be right out.’
But it was well after five on a Friday—closing time. ‘Why don’t I just flip the sign over?’
‘Don’t you dare.’ He barely caught her last words as she disappeared out back. ‘I need every sale I can get.’
People in business had to be aggressive, but the energy behind that last remark was one hell of an admission. The way she’d spoken six months ago, Roxy lived for the thrill of owning this shop—for the privilege of personally contributing to the ‘magic of marriage’—but it sounded as if her enterprise wasn’t doing so well. Would she want to go ahead with helping Greg and Marla when she knew his plan? That she’d need to leave her shop unattended or alternatively manned for a few days? Perhaps if the deal included watching him being hung, drawn and quartered …
Admittedly, his behaviour that night had been less than chivalrous, but God knew he’d had his reasons for leaving, just as Roxy had had hers for latching on the way she had. Clearly she was in the market for a serious partner of her own. What was so wrong with letting her know he wasn’t up for grabs? Surely that was better than leading her on.
The bell above the door rang and two women edged inside; from the age difference and resemblance, Nate suspected mother and daughter. He strolled over to a rack of dresses and feigned interest. Roxy might be difficult, she might play havoc with his equilibrium, but, even if her shop were raking in millions, he wouldn’t get in the way of a possible sale. People liked space. He imagined that went double for brides searching for a wedding dress.
So he thumbed through some size six to tens while going over the points of his plan for Marla and Greg yet again. Aside from needing to vacate Sydney for a few days, he wondered whether Roxy would entertain the idea of taking on such an active role or even if Greg and Marla would fall for it. Marla would then need to get past the mistrust and hurt those pictures had caused.
On the other side of the room, the women were involved in a hushed conversation. Eavesdropping wasn’t Nate’s style; however, the words he caught worried him enough to push scruples aside.
‘We won’t find anything,’ the daughter bemoaned. ‘It’s suburbia. You saw the sign. My God, she sews them herself.’
‘We’re here, Violet,’ the mother encouraged. ‘Let’s look a while. You never know what you’ll find.’
Coat hangers clicked down a steel rod. Satin and silk rustled, and Violet sighed. ‘No. No. No. No.’ A second, more impatient sigh. ‘A waste of time.’
Nate hadn’t a clue; women’s fashion wasn’t his forte. But ignorance and prejudging were two different beasts. Clearly Violet had made up her mind before entering the store. If she took off her blinkers, bet she’d find something worth another look. Perhaps even worth buying.
Roxy had said she needed every sale. Given she was at least prepared to listen to his plan, why not return the favour and see if he couldn’t help here?
With a dress in hand, he rotated around and, as impatient as that woman’s sighs had been, his was filled with satisfaction.
‘This is perfect. My God, she’ll love it.’ His smile big, Nate nodded a greeting then apologised to the ladies. ‘Sorry. Thinking aloud.’
Curious, Violet looked around. ‘Is your fiancée in a dressing room?’
‘I asked her to meet me here. I can’t wait till she sees this dress.’
One of the mother’s pencilled eyebrows lifted. ‘I’ve never heard of a groom choosing his bride’s gown.’
‘Emma’s been everywhere, including interstate. She was thinking of having one made and a friend recommended this place. She was so disheartened. She’d even talked about calling the whole thing off.’
The daughter gasped. ‘No.’
‘She’s the woman of my dreams,’ he said. ‘I want to have babies with Emma. Lots of them.’
Now Violet and her mother’s eyes were shining with approval, so Nate hammed it up. He hadn’t been given his senior production’s lead in Ali Baba for nothing.
‘I never thought I could love someone like I love my Emma. I just need to help her find that perfect dress.’
‘That’s what this place is called,’ Violet whispered in her mother’s ear loud enough for Nate to hear. ‘The Perfect Dress.’
‘It is a pretty gown,’ the mother agreed, taking more notice of Nate’s impromptu choice.
‘Don’t ask me how I know but I do.’ With an enamoured air, he shrugged. ‘My Emma will look like an angel in this.’
Having moved to another rack, Mother drew out a gown.
‘Sweetheart,’
