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“It’s gone.”
“What do you mean, it’s gone?”
“Right after we left, I texted Sofia and told her to get rid of it while you were out. You’re at the point of no return.”
I scowled. “I’m going to kill you with one of these stiletto heels. And I’m going to kill Sofia with the other one.”
“Try another gown.”
He left the dressing room while I fumed and reached for a floor-length aqua silk with an overlay of silver-beaded organza. The gown was sleeveless with a V neck. To my relief, it slid easily over my hips.
“I’ve always wanted to ask you this,” I said. “Did Sofia really try on clothes in front of you?”
“Yes,” Steven replied from the other side of the door. “But she wasn’t naked, she was wearing underwear.” After a pause, he added in a preoccupied tone, “A matched set. Black lace.”
“Are you interested in her?” I asked, slipping my hands through the armholes and pulling up the rest of the dress. At his silence, I said, “Never mind, I know you are.” I paused. “And it’s not all one-sided.”
His tone was decidedly less casual as he asked, “Is that opinion or confirmed fact?”
“Opinion.”
“Even if I were interested in her, I never mix work with my personal life.”
“But if you —”
“I’m not discussing Sofia with you. Are you almost done?”
“Yes, I think this one may actually fit.” I wriggled to zip up the back. “You can come in.”
Steven entered the dressing room and glanced over me approvingly. “This works.”
The weight of the geometric-patterned beading made the gown pleasantly slinky. I had to admit that the modified Empire cut of the gown flattered my shape, the flared fullness of the skirt balancing my proportions.
“We’ll have alterations cut it to knee-length,” Steven said decisively. “Legs like yours should be flaunted.”
“It’s a nice dress,” I admitted. “But the color is too bright. It competes with my hair.”
“It’s perfect with your hair.”
“It’s not me.” I turned and gave him an apologetic glance. “I’m not comfortable in something that makes me look so…”
“Confident? Sexy? A dress that encourages people to look at you? Avery… nothing interesting ever happens to people who stay in their comfort zones all the time.”
“Having gone outside my comfort zone in the past, I can say with authority that it’s an overrated experience.”
“All the same… you’re never going to get what you want if you refuse to change. And we’re not even talking big changes here. These are clothes, Avery. It’s minor stuff.”
“Then why are you making such a big deal out of it?”
“Because I’m tired of seeing you dressed like a Viking nanny. And so is everyone else. You’re the last person on the planet who should be hiding her figure. Let’s buy you a nice dress, and maybe some designer jeans and a couple of tops. And a jacket…”
In no time at all, Steven had enlisted the help of two saleswomen who proceeded to fill the dressing room racks with a rainbow of garments. The three of them informed me that I had been buying bigger sizes than I needed, in styles that were the opposite of what someone with my body shape should wear. By the time Steven and I left Neiman Marcus, I had bought the aqua dress, a print blouse, a couple of silk-blend tees, designer jeans and slim-fitting black pants, silk shorts, a plum-colored leather jacket, an open peach cardigan, an eggshell-white skirt suit, and four pairs of shoes. The outfits were sleek and simple, with waist-defining silhouettes.
Aside from making a hefty down payment on the warehouse in Montrose, I had never dropped so much money at one time in my life.
“Your new wardrobe is smoking hot,” Steven informed me as we left the store with bags in each hand.
“So is my credit card.”
He checked his messages. “We’re going to the optometrist now. After that, the salon.”
“Just out of curiosity, Steven… is there anything about my personal style that you do like?”
“Your eyebrows aren’t bad. And you have nice teeth.” As we drove away from the Galleria, Steven asked casually, “Are you ever going to tell me what happened with Joe Travis at the Kendrick wedding?”
“Nothing happened.”
“If that were true, you would have told me right away. But you haven’t said anything for a week and a half, which means something happened.”
“Okay,” I admitted. “You’re right. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine by me.” Steven found a soft-rock station on the radio and adjusted the volume.
After a couple of minutes, I burst out, “I slept with him.”
“Did you use protection?”
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
After an uncomfortable hesitation, I admitted, “Yes.”
Steven lifted one hand from the wheel to high-five me.
“Wow,” I muttered, returning the high five. “No lectures about one-night stands?”
“Of course not. As long as you use a condom, there’s nothing wrong with commitment-free pleasure. That being said, I wouldn’t advise using someone as a fuck-buddy. One of you always starts to have feelings. Expectations. Eventually someone gets hurt. So after the one-night stand, it’s better to pull the plug right away.”