“You mean like the tango?”
“No. I do simple stuff. Waltzes, fox-trot, even a pretty mean Texas two-step.”
She laughed. “Every time I think I know everything about you, you surprise me. What other secrets are trapped inside?” She placed her hand against his chest.
He grabbed her fingers and bent down, then kissed her palm. Her smile faded, but a hot light burned in her eyes.
“No more secrets,” he said, and knew it was a lie. He had plenty-they both did-but it was easier to pretend there was nothing left to hide.
Jamie turned and leaned her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. Although he’d had short-term relationships with women before, no one had touched him the way she did. No one made him want more than was safe.
She’d done more than save his life by rescuing him. She’d also come to the cabin to make sure he got better. In return, he wanted to give her something special. Jamie wasn’t the kind to appreciate an expensive bauble, so he would have to think of something else. Something that could never fade or be lost. Something precious, like the memory of their time together.
He was getting stronger every day. Eventually he would have to go back. It was, he told himself, a great-sounding concept that had its basis in deceit. He wasn’t willing to give Jamie the one thing she wanted-the truth. He wouldn’t even give her something real and lasting. Instead, he was going to show her a good time. When had he become a low-life bastard?
She turned her head slightly and nuzzled his neck. The moist heat of her kiss aroused him. Her position left her off balance, but she trusted him to keep her upright. Just like the child with her father. Implicit trust-when the hell had he earned that?
If he was any kind of a man, he would tell her what she wanted to know. He would explore the emotions he’d seen flickering through her eyes. He would risk some feelings of his own. If he was any kind of a man, he would tell her-
Tell her what? He didn’t have the answers. Truth was a relative term. The only thing he knew for sure was that when the time came, he was going to let Jamie go. Because it was right for her, because he didn’t deserve any better.
Chapter 13
“But why?” Jamie asked, then realized her voice sounded uncomfortably close to a whine. She couldn’t help it. She really, really didn’t want to do this.
“It will be fun.”
She stared at the elegant lettering on the front of the upscale boutique and shook her head. “No, it won’t. It’s physically impossible to have fun while shopping.”
Zach smiled. “And here I thought all females loved to shop.”
“I’m not like other females. That’s the whole problem. I never learned how. I don’t have the shopping gene. I don’t know what’s in style or what looks good on me. Please don’t make me do this.”
She stared up at him and begged silently. His eyes darkened with something that looked like compassion. She didn’t care if he thought she was crazy or even if he pitied her. At this point, she would take a month in prison rather than face going into the store in front of them. She couldn’t do it again. Her last shopping trip, an impulsive stop she’d made on her way from the airport to the cabin, had been a disaster. She’d bought that hideous frilly blouse and full skirt. Just thinking about how awful she’d looked made her shudder. She wanted to burn those clothes and all clothes like them.
She glanced down at her casual attire of jeans, a shirt and a blazer. This was as feminine as she was likely to get.
“I thought you wanted to find balance,” Zach reminded her. “Shopping is a part of being normal.”
She grimaced. “I thought you were going to say shopping is a part of being female.”
“I have a lot of flaws, but sexism isn’t one of them.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t want to.”
“I know, but it will be good for you.”
He took her arm and started to pull her toward the store. She resisted, wishing they were standing on soft earth instead of a concrete sidewalk so she could really dig her heels in.
“Jamie.” He sounded impatient.
“Just tell me why I have to do this.”
“Because we’re going out to a nice restaurant tonight, and you don’t have the right clothes.”
She fingered the lapel of her blazer. “I look fine.”
“You look great, but you’ll look even better with a cocktail dress. If you behave, I’ll even give you a surprise later.”
That caught her attention. She wondered if this surprise would take place in bed. They hadn’t been intimate since arriving in the city. Although her body was still pleasantly sated from their time at the cabin, she wouldn’t complain about a repeat performance.
“What’s the surprise?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“I want to know now.”
He glared at her. “Have you always been this stubborn?”
She nodded once. “It’s my best quality.”
“Sanders, get your butt in the store. Now!”
There didn’t seem to be any way of talking him out of the situation, so she gathered the little dignity she had left, pulled her arm free of his grasp and pushed open the glass door.
The interior was terrifying enough to make her knees quake. Frighteningly elegant furnishings, complete with antiques, subtle lighting and carpet thick enough to hide a cat. The pale walls were a neutral but warm color between white and gray. Racks of clothes stood in small collections. Jamie couldn’t tell if they were bunched by size, function or color. In her entire thirty years, she’d never been in a place like this.
There were other women shopping. Well-dressed women in coordinated outfits. Pants with fitted jackets, dresses with stockings and high heels. Well made-up women who wore jewelry and scarves and probably had an entire dresser covered with perfume bottles.
Jamie felt as if she were from another planet. A place where ugly, stupid people hid out until they were forced into landing on earth. She knew the saleswoman and other customers were going to know instantly she was inept. If she was lucky, they would just throw her back into the street and tell her to come back when she knew what she was doing.
“May I help you?”
She spun toward the voice, feeling oddly guilty, as if she’d been caught reading someone else’s mail.
“No,” she said quickly.
“Yes,” Zach said just as fast. He frowned at her, then turned his attention to the clerk. “We’re looking for a cocktail dress.”
The woman was in her midforties, with perfect, pale skin and red hair swept back into some kind of twist-bun-looking style. Jamie was sure it had an unpronounceable French name. The clerk glanced between the two of them, but her gaze never dipped below the neck. If she noticed Jamie was dressed worse than the cleaning lady, she didn’t let on.
“This way,” she said, and turned toward the back of the store.
She was dressed all in black. Slim dress, stockings and midsize pumps. Jamie wondered how she kept from falling on the thick carpet.
She walked to a gilded arch, then motioned with one outstretched arm. “Our evening wear is here. May I show you a few things, or do you know what you want?”
“I just want to look around,” Jamie muttered. It was humiliating enough that she had to find something to wear. She didn’t need witnesses.
“Very well. My name is Monique. Please let me know if I can be of assistance.”
She left them alone.
Jamie stared at all the fancy dresses. She didn’t know where to begin. “What did you have in mind?” she asked.
Zach shrugged. “Something pretty. Are you going to be okay by yourself? I have to go talk to Monique.”
She looked at him. “You’re leaving me here?”
“Is that a problem?”