tonight,” she started.
“I’ve made our reservation for eight,” he continued before stopping to give her a sharp, assessing look. “You’re not pulling out on me, are you? Thinking about dinner at Claire’s tonight has been the only thing that’s kept me going through the TV dinners and takeout all week.”
“Yes, I... Oh, um, no,” she vacillated. “There’s no need to pick me up. I can meet you there.”
“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t collect you? My mama would be ashamed.” He gave her a cheeky smile, then rattled off her address. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
She gave a brief nod.
“Good, I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”
He was gone and out the door before she could say another word. The faint chime of the elevator in the outer reception area galvanized her into action. If she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t have time to gather her wits together for tonight, let alone present herself respectably.
Forty-five minutes later, she surveyed the underwear she’d chosen to wear for tonight. Respectable was the last word on her mind. She’d bought the tiny scraps of fabric during a girls’ day out with her friend Mia Hughes, who worked as Alex’s housekeeper. The pale-green silk had looked stunning against her ivory skin and the texture had felt deliciously sinful. The half-cup bra made it the perfect piece to wear beneath the deep-V-necked teal dress she’d bought for a “sometime” special occasion but hadn’t yet had the opportunity to wear. Like the underwear, she’d bought it on impulse—something she rarely did after a childhood of poverty—and tonight seemed perfect to wear it for the first time. Armored with the expensive threads, she would feel like a million dollars—and right now she needed all the strength she could get.
Sophie luxuriated as long as she could under the stinging-hot spray of her shower, lathering her body twice with the expensive scented shower gel Lila had sent to her on her last birthday and which she saved only for special occasions. As she dragged her washcloth over her breasts, she felt her nipples pebble in anticipation of the evening ahead.
As conflicted as she felt about tonight’s dinner, she knew one thing very clearly in her mind. She wanted Zach Lassiter with an ache that went straight to her core, and if all she could have of him was this meal together, then she was going to make the most of it.
By the time she’d toweled off, styled her hair and applied her makeup, she felt almost bulletproof. It felt decadently wicked sliding into the tiny panties and hooking the bra before stepping into her dress and shimmying it up her body. She cast an eye at the clock beside her bed. Darn, she was cutting it close. Sophie reached for the zipper and started to tug it upward while slipping her feet into the killer heels she’d bought with her dress, but the zipper halted in its tracks.
She squirmed, trying alternately to tug it down or ease it up. Blasted thing was stuck fast and no matter how much she wriggled, it just wouldn’t budge. She tried to ease the gown off her shoulders but quickly gave that up as a bad idea. The dress was designed to be a skintight fit. There was no way she was going to get out of this one easily. What to do, what to do? She gave the tab on the zipper another jiggle, but still no luck.
This kind of thing did not happen to her. She was the consummate swan, gliding effortlessly across the lake of her life—outwardly, anyway. Control was the foundation of her life. Being at the mercy of something as inane as a stuck zipper was not something she was used to, not from this end, anyway.
But then again, the past week had been an exercise in levels of frustration she’d never experienced before. She huffed a sigh of exasperation. Zach would be here any minute now and, of course, right on cue, the doorbell rang.
Three
Zach pressed the doorbell again. He had said seven-thirty, hadn’t he? He checked the TAG Heuer on his wrist. Yep, he was on time. He stepped back from the door and checked the side window. Lights were on inside and, yes, right there he saw a flash of movement through the crack in the drapes.
The door slowly opened.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Sophie said, her light-brown eyes looking bigger and sexier than ever with the smoky makeup she wore.
“No problem, we have half an hour until our reservation.” He hesitated, waiting a second for her to invite him in, but when no invitation was forthcoming he continued, “So, shall we head out?”
She gave him an awkward smile. “Yes, well, maybe in a minute or two. I’ve got a bit of a problem with my dress.”
“Anything I can help with?”
Her dress? Maybe that explained why she wasn’t opening the door fully and was talking to him with just her head popped around its edge.
Sophie sighed. “I think you might have to.”
Huh. Well, there was no need for her to sound so eager, he thought. He waited again for her to open the door wider and to invite him inside. Still, she didn’t move.
“Is this something we can fix here on the doorstep?” he inquired.
“Oh, no. No, of course not. You’d better come in.”
She looked flustered, something he wasn’t used to seeing in her. He raised his eyebrows slightly and, taking the hint, she finally eased the door wide enough for him to pass through. She closed it behind her, keeping her back to the door.
She was as skittish as a newborn colt. He wondered what had gotten her so riled up.
“It’s my dress,” she started, then stopped just as suddenly and worried her lower lip with her teeth.
His eyes were caught and mesmerized by the action. Sophie’s lips were slick with gloss, several shades richer than what she normally wore to the office, he noted, and the color made him think of candy apples and all their sugary sweetness. Would she taste like that, too, if he nibbled on her lip the way she was doing right now?
Zach dragged his gaze from her mouth and from the forbidden thoughts she incited in him. She was strictly off-limits. What had she been talking about again? Yeah, that was right. Her dress.
“What’s wrong with it? You look great to me,” he said, letting his eyes skim over her.
Oh, yeah, she was the full package tonight. Her hair sat smooth and sleek in its unassuming bob. Fine, pale-blond hair that made his hand itch to reach out and feel if it was as silky soft as it looked. Desire hit hard and hot, driving a surge of lust straight to his groin. He fought to control it. This wasn’t what tonight was supposed to be about. He firmed his jaw and wrestled his libido back under control, right up until she turned around, exposing the long ivory column of her back.
“My zipper. It’s stuck. I think I’ve caught it on the lining. Do you think you can work it loose for me?”
Think? The woman expected him to think? Without realizing it, his hands moved to her back. One knuckle grazed against her warm skin. He felt her flinch beneath his touch.
“Sorry,” he muttered and forced himself to concentrate on closing his fingers on the delicate tab of the zipper.
“Do you think you’ll be able to work it
