She looked gorgeous, of course. And stylish. Standing near her, Elizabeth felt especially frumpy. She was one hundred and eighty degrees the opposite of Delphine and her cacophony of colors all right. Unfortunately, that still didn’t make Elizabeth’s wardrobe choices any more fashionable.
Her irritation came out in the form of defiance.
“I’m not going to change my appearance and contort myself to fit into someone else’s ideal of beauty, especially when he probably wouldn’t care anyway.”
“Okaaaay.” Mel pursed her lips. “I was going to ask how last night went, but I think I have my answer. I take it Thomas wants you to dress differently and you’re rebelling by wearing your, um, least flattering attire.”
Frowning, Elizabeth replied, “This suit isn’t that bad. It’s a high quality label, I’ll have you know. It didn’t come cheaply.”
“Then in addition to committing a fashion crime, you were robbed,” Mel remarked blandly.
Elizabeth let it drop since the price tag really was a moot point. Instead, she plucked at the jacket’s prim mandarin collar, determined not to recall the way Thomas had fumbled with the buttons on her blouse the previous night, and said, “Actually, this is how his Beth would dress.”
“His Beth?”
“You know what I mean, Mel. That’s his fiancée’s name as far as his grandmother is aware. I’m just the stand-in for the girl of his …”
“Dreams?”
“More like imagination.”
“So, in order for you to be plausible as his Beth, he’s encouraging you to play down your best assets.”
“No. Thomas has never said anything one way or another about the way I dress.” Elizabeth frowned again. “Although, last night after dinner, he did remove the headband I was wearing.”
He’d seemed agitated at the time. Frustrated?
“Is that all he removed?” Mel bobbed her eyebrows twice.
Another time, Elizabeth would have laughed. Mel was good at that. Her knack for levity had served them both well over the years, and it never failed to put their clients at ease. But her words had Elizabeth recalling the shirt she’d been helping Thomas remove.
“Nothing happened.”
“Nothing?” Mel crossed her arms.
Sighing, Elizabeth slumped down onto the seat of her chair. “Nothing much. He … kissed me again.”
“And you liked it. Again,” Mel surmised. “Face it. You like him.”
Some of Elizabeth’s annoyance with herself and Thomas leaked away. Frustration and a fresh dollop of confusion took its place.
“What’s not to like?” She sighed in defeat.
Her friend levered a hip onto Elizabeth’s desk. “Are we talking about the kiss in this case or the man responsible for it?”
“Either. Both.”
“Uh-oh.”
“There’s no ‘uh-oh,’ Mel. There can be no ‘uh-oh.’ Thomas is a nice guy, and he’s very likeable.”
“Don’t forget hot,” Mel inserted on a wink.
“No need to remind me on that score.” But now that she had, Elizabeth’s internal thermostat was working its way into the red. “The man sure knows how to kiss. But we’re not dating.”
She said the last part a little too emphatically. Mel’s eyes narrowed. “I gather you’re having a bit of trouble remembering that.”
“Guilty as charged. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Fireworks,” Mel finished.
Oh, yeah. And a dizzying display, no less. But since mention of their sexual chemistry was too damning to dwell on, Elizabeth said, “Actually, I wasn’t expecting us to have much, if anything, in common.”
“But you do.”
“We both like Hitchcock movies and spicy Chinese.” She chuckled at the memory of Thomas fumbling his food during dinner. “Even if he can’t use chopsticks to save his life.” Her grin was short-lived. “God, Mel. He’s exactly the kind of man a smart woman steers clear of.”
“But you have common interests, and I thought you just said he was nice and likeable and hot?”
“We do and he’s nice and likeable and hot, all right. He’s also smart and sexy, and … from what I can tell, the flattering adjectives are practically endless where Thomas is concerned.” She grabbed Mel’s arm. “Did I tell you about his manners? He pulls out chairs, opens doors. He even apologizes when he swears, not that he makes a habit of it.”
“Apologizing?”
“Swearing.” She let go of her friend’s arm.
Mel shook her head. “I’m sorry, hon. I’m not seeing the problem here. You obviously like him. I know you like the way he kisses. And he likes you.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath.
“No, Mel. Thomas needs me. That’s one of the big red flags waving madly here. This is business.”
The corners of Mel’s mouth turned down in dismissal and she shook her head. “I’m not buying that. He likes you, and as more than a pal,” her friend insisted again. “You’ve already agreed to spend some time with him acting like a happy couple. So what if a little pleasure is starting to slip into your business arrangement? What will it hurt? For that matter, who knows where it will lead?”
“I know where it will lead. Nowhere.”
But Mel shook her head again. “You are one of the smartest, most self-assured women I’ve ever met when you’re dealing in a professional capacity. But you don’t give yourself enough credit where men are concerned. He may just fall gorgeous head over pricey wing tips for you, for real.”
No wonky pulse now. Instead, Elizabeth’s stomach took a roller-coaster-worthy plunge. Is that what she wanted to happen? She wasn’t sure. They didn’t know one another well enough. Yet. Even if everything she knew about him so far, she liked. Except … “He’s anti-commitment,” she told Mel.
“Come on. Did he actually say that?”
“Yep.” Elizabeth nodded. “He made it clear in no uncertain terms when we had dinner the first night that he has no plans to settle down. Ever.”
“All men say that.”
“No. He means it.” Her heart squeezed as she relayed what Thomas had told her the previous night about his parents, the horrifying car accident that had claimed his mother and his father’s subsequent alcoholism. “He thinks of love as a disease, a chronic one is how he phrased it.”
Mel nibbled the inside of her cheek, uncharacteristically quiet. At last she said, “In his defense, he had a tough break. He was a kid when the accident happened and so it was easy for him to see love as the reason his father is the way he is. But that doesn’t make it so. His father suffers from a disease all right. Alcoholism. That’s why he basically abandoned his son. The accident might have been the trigger, but.” She lifted her shoulders. “The poor guy. It’s no wonder he turned out so gun-shy.”
“I know.” Elizabeth sighed again. “I wish he could be just a jerk, though. You know?”
“Yeah. A garden variety misogynist would make your situation less