Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that my wardrobe was completely unacceptable for the gallery opening until the day of the event. My clothes consisted mainly of jeans and shirts because cute tops aren’t so cute when your bra is filled with sawdust or the sleeves are splattered with varnish. And in a fit of ‘I’m never dating again, so I don’t need going-out clothes’ frustration, I’d tossed a lot of reminders of my old self.

After Kevin had shown me the error of my loyal and trusting ways and I’d finally wised up, I didn’t want to look sexy—I was purposefully trying not to attract anyone. And every outfit reminded me of a man. It was actually pathetic—I could remember when and with whom I wore every attractive outfit I had.

They were souvenirs of the delusion I’d lived with since I agreed to go to junior prom with Michael Buckley and he celebrated by sticking his tongue in my mouth. Worst kisser ever, although I didn’t know that at the time because he was my first. My first everything—kiss, love, lover. Worst everything ever, actually. For his sake, I hope he’s gotten better.

Tonight was special, though. I didn’t need to look sexy but jeans weren’t going to cut it. There would be potential clients for my business and, more importantly, for my art. I needed to go shopping.

---

Carson called just as I got to the department store. “What are you doing?”

“Shopping for a dress I can’t afford. What are you doing?”

“Leaving work. Are you almost done buying a dress you can’t afford? I thought we could have a drink before you drag me to this horrible thing tonight.”

I heard the smile in his voice. Doing what he did and being who he was, Carson probably went to this kind of thing all the time. Then his offer sunk in—he’d just asked me to have a drink a few hours before an event it would take me hours to get ready for.

“Oh my god, it’s true—you’ve never gone out on a date, have you?”

“What’d I miss?”

“I’m a woman.” I pulled dresses off the racks, cringing every time I saw a price tag. So I stopped looking at them—they were all more than I could afford. Hopefully I wouldn’t discover I could buy the dress I wanted or pay my rent, but couldn’t do both. “I have two hours to find a dress, go home, shower, do my hair and makeup, and get to the gallery. Yet the guy I’m not dating is asking me to meet him for a drink.”

“And he still doesn’t know why you can’t.”

“Because I’ve already been to two stores and haven’t found a single dress I like. If Nordstrom doesn’t have anything, I’ll probably have to go in the dress I wore to my high school prom.”

“Dear god, I hope you’re kidding. Just pick one. You’ll look good in whatever it is. Except your prom dress. Don’t do that to me…unless you went to the prom in a cheerleading uniform.”

I held the phone between my shoulder and my ear as the stack of dresses grew. “This is important, Carson. I can’t go there looking like crap.” A saleswoman took pity on me and brought the stack to a dressing room.

“You won’t look like crap. You’ll look great. I’ll make sure of it. See you soon.” He hung up before I could ask him what he meant. I jogged after the big pile of options, crossing my fingers that one of them would work.

Ten dresses—mostly black, in two different sizes—and I still had nothing. How could I possibly be the only woman in the world to have boobs and a butt? Evidently, I was only allowed to have one or the other. Just as I slipped dress number eleven, i.e. the last one, over my head, a long royal blue dress came sailing over the top of the dressing room door.

“Try this one.” It was a man’s voice, not the saleswoman’s.

“Carson?”

“Hurry up and try it on. I only have two hours to go home, get dressed, do my hair, and meet the woman I’m not dating for a drink I’m not going to drink.”

I felt the fabric of the dress he’d picked out and immediately knew it was out of my price range. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress I already had on was perfect…for someone else. On me, it gaped near the arms and pulled across my chest.

“Hurry up,” he called.

I took the last failure off and slipped on the dress Carson had tossed me. It was perfect. For me.

When I opened the door, he let out his breath. “You look…the complete opposite of crap.”

“Thank you.” That was probably as close to a compliment as I was going to get. “How’d you know it would fit so perfectly?”

“Because I do nothing but stare at your body when we’re together.” Just like he was doing now, his eyes running the length of my body, covetous. And it wasn’t of the dress. “Take it off and let’s go.”

“I wish. I’m about ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure it’s out of my price range.” I couldn’t find the tag until I looked at him and saw it in his hand. “Why do you have that?”

“You’re gonna owe me a lot more Getting Handy lessons.” Then he walked away. “Get dressed. We need to go.”

“Carson, wait! You can’t buy it for me.” It was so pretty, though, perfectly snug on the top, draping gorgeousness on the bottom. He’d already made up his mind and nothing I said would change it. Plus, I would never, ever be able to afford it and it was so beautiful and it fit me so well and…

No. “Carson!”

I ran back into the dressing room to grab my purse, carefully taking the dress off and yanking my own clothes back on, not bothering with shoes. When I got to him, the saleswoman asked him if he wanted his receipt emailed to him.

“I can’t let you do that,” I said.

“It’s just an email, Lane,” he said without turning. “I think I can handle it.”

The saleswoman laughed, taking the dress from me and wrapping it up. “Do you need shoes? Nylons?”

I said no at the same time Carson said yes.

“No, thank you. I have shoes.” Not nice enough for this dress, but I had a pair.

As we walked through the store, I held onto the box as if it was the most valuable thing I’d ever owned, which it may have been.

“You shouldn’t have done that, but thank you.” It felt so inadequate, but what else could I do?

“Don’t think you’re getting it for free,” he said as we cut through the men’s department. “You’re buying me a drink at this thing tonight.”

“I think it’s an open bar.”

“Then you’re buying me a few drinks at this thing tonight.”

“If I get you drunk, will you let me take advantage of you?” I teased.

“Alright, that’s it,” he growled. He took the dress box from me, picked me up, plopped my ass on a display of jeans, and nudged my knees apart so he could stand between them. “I tried to be patient. I really did, but this friend thing sucks.”

“Umm…” I took a quick breath when he put his hands on my thighs. “You know we’re in public, right?”

“So?” He was really close, looking intense and amused and completely focused on me.

“So people are staring.”

“The place is practically empty.”

“But not completely.” I looked over his shoulder, seeing the stares of a few customers but no employees. “There are three guys and—”

“Any women?”

“One, but her mortification only lasted as long as a quick glance. Men are slower.”

“True, but we’re also better at prioritizing.” He moved a tiny bit closer. At least, I think he was the one who moved. Either way, I was in trouble. “Why do you think they’re staring?”

“Probably because some nutcase has a girl on a display case in the middle of a store.”

“You’re wrong. They’re staring because they wish they were exactly where I am right now, with their hands exactly where mine are.” He ran them up to my hips. “Since the poor guys aren’t that lucky, I figure letting them stare isn’t a big deal.”

My heart was pounding so hard, it would be a miracle if he didn’t hear it.

“Next thing,” he said. “I’m now going to try a less subtle approach to convince you a sexual relationship doesn’t have to come with a romantic one. I’m assuming you know the reason behind this.”

“You haven’t exactly been vague.” Is it possible to die of nervousness? “But I don’t think this is that kind of store.”

“You’re right. Let’s go somewhere more appropriate.” He yanked me by the hand, giving me just enough time to grab my new dress. When he pulled me into the dressing room area, I finally started wondering why I was letting him do whatever this was. He glanced around, took a credit card out of his wallet, and fiddled with the lock to one of the rooms.

“What are you—?”

“You don’t really think this is my first time sneaking into a women’s dressing room, do you?” The lock clicked open. “It’s either this or the bathroom. And trust me, bathroom stalls aren’t made for two people who aren’t…intimately connected, if you get my meaning.” His meaning was gotten and imagined and wanted. But not like this—not here, not now. “I’ll take you there as soon as I can. Promise.”

“You know, a place where we’re actually allowed to go might be even better.”

“Those are all too far away. I’ll try to make it quick—the discussion, not what I hope the discussion will lead to.” He yanked me inside the small space and locked the door.

I pressed my back to the wall as if that would actually do anything. The door was behind him, and even I didn’t want him to open it yet.

“Tell me all the components of a romantic relationship,” he said. “Even the little ones. Pretend I don’t know any of them…’cause I don’t.”

“Um… You have to like the person.”

“Simple start, okay. Do you like me?”

“Yes.”

“Bummer,” he said, smiling. “What else?”

“Attraction.”

“You’re insanely attracted to me, so that makes another point not in my favor. Keep going.”

I was throwing out anything I could think of. I didn’t know how to define a romantic relationship. “Sex.”

“Well, that’s the grand prize, but only if the other issues are taken care of. Next.”

“Chemistry?”

“Shit,” he grumbled, but there was humor in his tone. “This isn’t looking good for me. It may have been a bad idea to bring it up. We’ll see soon enough. Next.”

I was running out of answers. “A spark?”

“Okay, in my opinion, this one and the last two aren’t exclusive to a romantic relationship, so let’s hold off judgment until later. Next.”

“Some kind of romantic feeling, I guess.”

“You guessing isn’t actually that helpful. What we need is—” Damn, his smile was wicked. “I have an idea.” He stepped in close to me, held my face between his hands and brushed his lips over mine. Soft, then a little harder but still gently, taking his time. I opened my mouth to his tongue, my hands sliding up his chest. I didn’t know how this was going to prove anything other than he’d basically perfected the art of kissing, but I went with it. Because…well, because he’d basically perfected the art of kissing.

Then, without warning, he pulled away and whistled. “Wow, okay. Yeah, okay. Damn it.” He rested his forehead against mine and took a deep breath. “I need you to be completely honest with me right now. Okay?”

I swallowed, knowing it was a bad idea but ready to say yes. To anything.

“Lane?” He tipped my chin up so I was looking directly at him. “Did you just fall in love with me?”

I shoved him back when he started laughing. “You’re such a shithead! Stop making fun of me when you’re even weirder than I am.”

“Re-do then.” Before I understood what that meant, what any of this meant, he kissed me again. Still slowly, but way more deeply. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he pulled me into him. I rose onto my tiptoes when he squeezed my ass, holding onto the fabric of my jeans to get me closer. It was like in the stairwell but even better because we knew each other now, understood the other’s likes and—

Oh my god, I liked this. So much, I would happily stay here and do this for the next few years.

He finally pulled away, wiping my lower lip with his thumb and leaving his hands cradling my face. “Fuck.” Nothing in his expression held humor. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if this doesn’t work, Lane.”

I didn’t either. This much stress couldn’t be good for my heart.

After a moment of silence, he leaned against the wall, creating a little bit of space between us. “We’ve confirmed that we like each other, are attracted to each other, and the chemistry and spark are definitely there. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t want to rip your clothes off so fucking badly right now. We’ve also done something that’s traditionally a romantic thing to do—the kiss, not sneaking into a dressing room. So, do you?”

“I…” I wouldn’t have stopped him. If he hadn’t pulled away, I would’ve let him take my clothes off and I would’ve taken off his. I would have run my lips over all the skin I constantly caught myself imagining the taste of, and then wrapped my legs around his waist. I would’ve fucked him against the wall of Nordstrom’s dressing room even if it screwed up everything between us and turned me into the weak, weeping lunatic I’d been six months ago.

“Please tell me I can I have you without it messing with your head,” he said, adjusting himself.

I didn’t know. I wouldn’t know how I’d feel until it happened. That was the problem. If he wasn’t so gorgeous and great, things would be a lot easier. Of course, if he wasn’t so great, I wouldn’t want him so badly, either. Damn him. This was totally his fault.

He looked a little nervous. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m still thinking you’re a shithead.”

“Excellent,” he said, laughing. “Then I really think you should consider letting this shithead have his way with you. But I’d suggest it happen somewhere you can lie down after you’ve come so hard you can’t stand up anymore.”

He was the devil.

Someone pounded on the door. “If you don’t come out immediately, I’m calling security.”

“Have you ever been arrested?” he asked. When he opened the door, an older woman was glaring at us, one hand on her hip.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said with sincerity. “We didn’t mean to cause any trouble. She and I are just friends, but I really want to be more. So I have to take every opportunity I can to convince her how great we’d be together.”

The woman’s face softened and she glanced back and forth between us. Her reaction might have been different if she knew what kind of ‘more’ Carson wanted.

He spoke to the woman, but his eyes never left mine. “Have you ever wanted someone so badly that using common sense doesn’t make sense anymore?”

“Once. A very long time ago.” She sighed. “If you want to impress her, you should take her somewhere nicer than a dressing room, though.” As we passed, she touched my arm. “You never know what you might get until you try. But if you don’t try, you’re sure to get nothing.”

My mouth dropped open. Was she kidding? “Did he pay you to say that?”

Carson thanked her and pulled me away. “She seemed awfully wise, didn’t she? Maybe even psychic. Although, I know exactly what you’ll get when you try. And you’re going to love it.” He winked. “But not that kind of love.”