her feel special whether he was looking all about him to research his book or not.
A night out of time, that was what this would be for Lally. She could do it, of course she could, and have a whole lot of fun in the process!
Cam led her straight to the grouping of boutique clothing-stores with fashionably sparse window-displays. Lally glanced around the opulent hotel’s interior; that opulence tied in with what she saw here. A qualm struck; she leaned towards Cam and whispered urgently, ‘That looks like a designer original dress in the window.’
‘It is, but from my research there are plenty of non-designer dresses in the shop as well.’ Cam stepped inside without giving Lally a chance to argue it one way or another. ‘And here’s our shop assistant ready to help us.’
‘But the money,’ Lally whispered, and tugged on his arm. ‘It all looks expensive. You can’t…’
He turned and gave a reassuring smile. ‘These purchases are a legitimate business expense. I’ll claim them against tax, and I get to give a great housekeeper the gift of a few things after we’ve used them for my research—if you’d like them. You’ll let me do that rather than throwing them out, won’t you?’
‘Throw?’ Lally bit back a gasp. He wanted her to let him buy the things and then give them to her, but she’d thought if that happened it would be in a very inexpensive way.
‘It’s not hurting anything, Lally.’ He said it in such a businesslike way. ‘I need this kind of setting. You understand?’
Lally calmed down a little. This was just work, when all was said and done. Unusual, maybe, but still work.
If her awareness of him suggested differently, well, she would get that sorted out. She would. She’d just watch very carefully to make sure they didn’t end up buying a dress that cost a ridiculous amount of money.
‘Good evening. How may I help you?’ The saleswoman was already sizing Lally up.
‘We need a dress. Something bright, flattering and elegant; a handbag; earrings, and I think…’ Cam’s gaze shifted to Lally’s neck and lingered there. ‘Yes, a necklace. I’ll know what I want for that once we choose the dress. Hmm…’ He turned to the saleswoman.
‘I don’t know much about this, but something that will suit her colouring, bring out the brown of her eyes and make the most of her hair. That’s what I want.’
You should be in colours, Latitia. You were born for them on all sides of your family tree!
Mum had said that to her—recently, actually, now Lally thought of it. She had given Lally an almost disappointed look when Lally had shrugged her shoulders and said she preferred plain colours, and shades that blended rather than stood out. Mum had looked away and muttered something about ‘long-term hibernation behaviour. ’
A week later Lally had finished working at the fishing-tackle-and-bait store, and she’d no longer been needed in the next job she’d had lined up in the family. The whole family had been just fine getting along without her, and she’d ended up with Cam.
Now they were shopping, and he had his arm loosely against her shoulders; when had that happened?
Lally looked away in case she was gaping over the list he’d just given the saleswoman. Lally’s glance fell on a mirror on the shop-wall that showed their reflections. Cam had a spark of enjoyment in his eyes.
Worse was the corresponding sparkle in her eyes.
More dangerous still was how much she liked the look of those two reflections; side by side.
Lally could count on one hand the number of times she’d been out on a date since the disaster of Sam six years ago. The last time must have been over a year ago. Those dates had been pleasant enough, she supposed, but in a very controlled way for her, and she’d never looked for a repeat.
Her reaction just now hadn’t felt controlled. Plus, this was not a date!
‘Nothing designer,’ Lally said with about as much spine in her tone as an overcooked noodle. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Maybe you have a sale rack?’
‘Perish that thought.’ The sales lady said it with good humour, disappeared for a moment and returned with a garment over her arm. ‘Perhaps you’d like to try this? It’s middle range, though it’s an odd thing to be told not to include designer choices!’ She held up a flow of deep-red silk.
‘Oh, it’s…gorgeous.’ The words poured out of Lally’s mouth before she could stop them; to her credit she tried to back-pedal as soon as it happened. ‘That is, I’m not sure. It’s awfully noticeable—the colour and style…’ Lally broke off and turned to Cam. ‘I guess that doesn’t matter. It’s only to help you to figure out what you want.’
‘That’s right. It seems…as good a choice as any.’ He nodded. ‘I’m having fun, Lally, and that’s got to be good for my muse. So, go and try the dress on, please.’
‘It will make you look absolutely radiant, dear.’ Somehow the woman had her hustled through the store and into a changing room with the dress pushed into her hands before Lally quite realised what had happened. Her last glimpse before the dressing room door closed was of Cam turning to examine a shelf of evening bags with a purposeful and cheerful glint in his eyes.
Lally locked the dressing-room door, turned to the mirror, and saw a bright-eyed girl with red silk clutched in her hands.
‘It won’t fit,’ she muttered, not sure if she was being hopeful, practical, hedging her bets or trying to talk herself out of a love affair that had already taken wings the moment the saleswoman held up the dress.
‘You’re such a predictable female, Lally.’ She muttered the words beneath her breath. ‘The first time someone throws a pretty dress at you, and all your past decisions about fashion choices and colours go out the window.’
Oh, but this was different. This wasn’t for her, not really. This was for research so Cam could look at Lally and choose a whole different look for his book character.
It was reverse psychology, and it would work; Lally just knew it would. Lally was just the human mannequin for the evening, as cardboard and one-dimensional as could be.
She was filled with a lot of excitement for someone who was one dimensional, though.
‘Are you done?’ Cam’s voice sounded from outside the cubicle. ‘May I see the dress on you?’
Lally was done. She’d simply been standing there staring mutely at the transformation that had appeared in the mirror. She didn’t feel much like a mannequin; she felt like a girl in a gorgeous dress.
‘I’m not sure if this…’ Lally put her hand on the door latch, unlocked it and pulled it open.
‘You…’ The single word trailed away as Cam’s gaze slowly travelled from her head to her toes and back again.
‘It seems to be the right size.’ Lally resisted the urge to fidget with the hem or twitch the fabric over her hips. The dress fitted like a glove and flowed over her curves in all the right ways.
‘It’s
