“What?” she asked breathlessly, recovering. “You’re upset because of my age? Seriously?”
“You lied about it. You made me think you were Liza’s age,” he said, repressed anger starting to pulse in his veins.
“I was twenty-two then. You were ten years older. What’s the big deal?”
He grimaced slightly. “You’re worshipped by a horde of infatuated teenage boys and girls. After you hit it big, I felt . . . indecent realizing I’d been with you.”
“It’s not my fault if my first movie was a young adult hit. I’m almost twenty-five right now. I was a consenting adult when we were together. And for your information, you were indecent that night. So was I,” she added darkly.
He snarled, irritated at her flippancy. Or honesty. Or the heat that flashed through him at her reply. He couldn’t say which. “Don’t try and deny you didn’t mislead me about your age on purpose.”
She choked on incredulous laughter. “Oh my God. I can’t believe how unreasonable you are. I wasn’t a teenager! Is that really why you didn’t call me?”
“You had my number as well.”
The silence swelled. Frustration spiked through him. He hadn’t meant to betray the fact that he’d half-hoped she would call, even after he’d learned she’d misled him. Damn her for forcing his hand. She just stared at him, her lips parted in amazement. He closed his eyes briefly.
“That’s all in the past,” he said, getting ahold of himself. “We can either deal with this situation that we’re in or not, no matter how odd it is. We have more important things to think about right now.” He held up the breast binder. “Can you go and put this on please? It’s a binder, but a shaper too. It’ll give you more of the outline of a boy. You can change over there. I’ve put the clothes I want you to wear behind the screen. I’ll ask Karen to go back and help you with the binder. You’ll need it.” He pointed at a dark green folding screen across the room.
Maybe she’d realized all this rehashing of a night better left forgotten wasn’t for the best, no matter how angry she was. She grabbed the binder but paused beside him instead of walking behind the screen.
“Just tell me this. Did that night have anything to do with you accepting this consultation?” she asked in a low voice that vibrated with emotion.
“Did it have anything to do with you agreeing to it?”
Her face stiffened. She merely stalked behind the screen.
It looked as if neither of them was willing to tip their hand on that volatile topic.
* * *
A couple of hours later, Seth noticed Gia sitting forward and staring out the window as he merged onto I-40 East.
“Where are we going?” she asked him with a bewildered look.
“I told you yesterday. The Shawnee National Forest in Illinois.”
“But . . . what airport are we flying out of?”
“You left last night before Charles and I made a few alterations to the plan.”
“What changes?” she asked him, her tone ominous. He glanced sideways at her and did a double take. He had to hand it to himself; he’d done a better female-to-male makeup job on Gia than he had for the Oscar nod he’d earned for turning a famous actress into an equally infamous male rock star a few years back. A seventeen- or eighteen-year-old belligerent male teenager glared back at him from the passenger seat. The wig was a little lighter than Gia’s normal hair color, featuring blond highlights. It was a high-quality human hairpiece, the style suited to trendy youth. It swirled and waved around her cheeks, ears and neck in a carefree, beachy style. The wig fit her head almost perfectly, making adhesive unnecessary. The body shaper had added a few inches to her waist and flattened her chest out, if not ideally, then adequately. Gia’s breasts were not insignificant. They weren’t huge, but they weren’t small either.
In fact, they were perfect.
Petal-soft, thrusting and firm with large, exquisitely sensitive pink nipples. How well he remembered how those nipples felt beneath his fingers . . . under his laving tongue. Unwelcome arousal shot through Seth.
Again.
He shifted uneasily in the driver’s seat.
Her breasts had been the one doubt he’d had about the transformation.
Things had worked out though. The slight shoulder padding and firm ribbing in the shaper, along with Gia’s naturally slender figure, gave the impression of a whipcord-lean male torso beneath a Hurley T-shirt and plaid overshirt. He’d darkened her peaches-and-cream complexion into a golden tan that would suit a beach-loving teenage boy. He’d neutralized her hallmark pink mouth into a much more innocuous pink-beige. The shadowing of her jaw with slight whisker stubble just beneath short brown sideburns was a particularly brilliant move on his part.
He had transformed Gia Harris into a boy worthy of the cover of Tiger Beat, Seth thought amusedly, taking pains to hide his smile.
Of course, the sunglasses were a must. He’d brought contacts for her in his kit, but he didn’t want her to be unnecessarily uncomfortable on the trip. There was something about Gia’s large, long-lashed eyes that screamed of the feminine. Or at least to Seth they did.