But eventually, by the fifth store, she relaxes and starts to enjoy the process.
As we weave through the racks, me holding bags for her, and her pulling new items off the shelves and racks, we talk about the city itself. “So you grew up here?” she asks.
“I did.”
“In this same penthouse?”
I laugh at the mental image of my parents trying to keep this penthouse as neat as it is now with me as a kid running through it. I wasn’t exactly the neatest child. Or the best behaved. “No. We lived in a brownstone on the Upper West Side. I moved into the penthouse a few years ago, after I became the CFO of my current company.”
She holds up a long black dress, turning it this way and that as she considers it. Then she fires me a flirtatious glance. “So did you spend most of your time in fancy stores like this, Mr. Spoiled?” She winks.
But I frown, my thoughts drifting to the place where I actually spent most of my childhood. It was nothing like any of these stores. Sometimes it feels like another life, a whole different world from the one I inhabit now. I miss it. I’d do anything to get a piece of it back.
But that’s impossible. Unless this crazy plan pays off…
“Xander?” Melanie’s voice draws me back to the present, makes me blink and shake my head to call my mind back to the present. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I force a smile, all too aware that I sound just like Melanie earlier, pretending not to be nervous about the pending meet-the-siblings. “Just thinking about my younger years. I wasn’t quite as bad a spender back then.” I nod at the store around us, chuckling. “But I’ve more than made up for it ever since college.”
“I see.” She smirks. “So you bring all your hot dates here, is that it?”
“Only the ones I really want to see all dressed up.” I step closer to her, and her head tilts back as she keeps her gaze on mine.
“That so?” She arches an eyebrow. “Well, if you’ll enjoy seeing me so dressed up, then do you have any ideas which gown I should try? Because I’ve been through about twenty already, and I’m still not sure if any of them work…”
She’s looked amazing in everything she’s worn. Hell, she looks incredible right now, in the same jean skirt and baggy T-shirt she wore on our flight. But to humor her, I tilt my head and consider the room around us. “What about that one?” I nod toward a mannequin, dressed in the kind of outfit that I know would go over perfectly at the dinner spot I have in mind for us tonight.
She turns slowly, her eyes widening as she realizes which one I mean. “You really think I can pull that off?”
“If you can’t, nobody can,” I respond, grinning down at her.
She holds my gaze for a moment, responding to the challenge. And slowly, her smile spreads in answer. “Okay, twist my arm. I’ll try it.” She walks toward the rack as I wave at the nearest sales associate to assist us. “But if it looks terrible, I’m blaming you,” she adds over her shoulder.
“If it looks fantastic, do I get all the credit?” I fire back, and she laughs as she trails off after the sales associate. I follow her toward the dressing area, my earlier bout of sorrow forgotten.
If all goes well tonight—and in the couple of weeks that follow—I won’t ever have to mourn what I’m missing again. I’ll regain my past and then some.
I pick a chair near the fitting rooms and wait, not without a touch of impatience. My mind can’t help wandering toward images of what Melanie looks like right now. How she’d be shimmying out of that jean skirt and pulling her tee shirt over her head. The curves that would be revealed inch by inch. And how badly I want to run my hands over her body. How much I want to be in that dressing room with her, able to take full advantage of her gorgeous, sexy body.
Fuck the gown. She looks the best without a stitch of clothing on her body at all.
My cock throbs at the memory of earlier, of our flight here, and soon I have to cross my legs to hide the growing desire I feel. I clear my throat, force my mind toward other thoughts. Any distraction I can come up with. I shift my gaze to the far side of the store and watch a screaming toddler and her exasperated father. I clench my teeth and fists, until my blood flow finally regularizes.
God, the next two weeks are going to be torture, if she does this to me every time we’re together. Then again, she also did this to me for the whole week we were apart, too. Maybe nowhere will be safe anymore.