She turned back to the mirror. “I do look different,” she murmured.
“You look fantastic,” he assured her, taking a tentative step closer to her. “No more or less beautiful than before, only different.”
“I only hope I don’t screw up and put you—put us both—in more danger.”
Blake reached out to place his hands on her shoulders—her mostly bare shoulders, he couldn’t help noticing. “You’ll do fine.”
“But I don’t know what I’m doing.” She seemed compelled to try to make him understand. “I haven’t had any experience at this. It isn’t something I feel qualified to do.”
Every word she spoke told him more about her deepest insecurities, and about the doubts that had plagued her since the senior partners at her law firm had cravenly refused to stand behind her. Why was it always so important to Tara to be an overachiever? To never make mistakes? To be fully in control of every situation?
How could he help her understand that being slightly imperfect only made her more human? More appealing, as far as Blake was concerned.
He raised his hands to cup her pretty, worried face. “You can do it,” he assured her. “I believe in you, Tara McBride.”
She reached up to cover his left hand with her right. “Thank you.”
Impulsively, he kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re welcome.”
He didn’t release her. She didn’t draw back.
“I’m still mad at you,” she murmured, though she didn’t look particularly angry. In fact, she was looking at him in a way that made his knees weaken, even as other parts of him grew stronger.
“No, you aren’t,” he answered, hiding the beginning of a smile.
Her mouth twisted wryly. “Well, I’m trying to be.”
It really should be a crime for her to wear this dress, Blake mused as he glanced down, only to find himself admiring the porcelain-pale, inner curves of her breasts. He couldn’t help wondering if she wore anything beneath the dress. And he wanted very badly to find out.
He had nothing to offer her, he reminded himself again as she tilted her face a bit closer to his. At least, not for the long term. But for tonight...
Tonight he was willing to give her anything she wanted.
BLAKE’S HANDS were so warm, so strong around her face. Tara felt the calluses on his fingertips, the ridge of a small scar on his palm. But, most intriguingly, she felt the faint tremor that rippled through them when she moved a half step closer to him.
There was a special feminine pleasure to be found in causing a strong man to tremble.
She tried to remember that she was annoyed with him. But at the moment, she couldn’t recall quite why. She could think of nothing but how good it felt to be so close to him. To have him looking at her as though he wanted to devour her. The same way she was probably looking at him.
Blake believed in her, as no one else had lately. Even Tara herself.
He thought she was beautiful. He’d said so even before her dramatic makeover. It had been a long time since anyone had called her beautiful. A long time since it had mattered to her.
Blake had only to smile at her—the way he was now—to seduce her. And she was getting tired of fighting him. Tired of fighting herself.
She wanted him.
She’d never wanted anyone else like this, and couldn’t imagine that she ever would. There couldn’t possibly be another man like Blake.
Experimentally, she rose on stockinged tiptoes to brush a kiss across his mouth. Her eyes remained open. She watched as his darkened.
He wanted her.
The old Tara would have made a prudent retreat at this point. The sensible, logical, cautious—and often lonely—Harvard-educated attorney didn’t take foolish chances. She wasn’t sure that was true of the new Tara—the one with the copper curls and seductress mouth, the one who had been living on the edge of danger for an entire weekend. The one who could make Blake tremble with a kiss.
This new, more daring Tara wanted to experience life more fully than she had before. Maybe even take a few risks.
She kissed him again.