I felt sweaty when I got home, even though it was probably due to nerves because Kina and I hadn't even had to shop for very long since one of the first dresses I had tried on had been perfect. That never happened to me so I was hoping it was a sign that the rest of the night would go just a smoothly.

I showered for the second time today, and used enough product on my hair that it would stay where I put it. It was a bit longer now than when I’d first cut it, and I could style it around my face into something softer and elegant than I usually wore it.

I preferred my hair short. I liked it out of the way, and I wasn’t the type of woman that wanted to seduce a man with my locks. Still, I wanted to look feminine, and tonight, I had managed.

I was happy to see that the dress looked just as good on me at home as it did at the store— that rarely happened, either. Usually I could swear the store's mirrors worked some kind of voodoo magic to make me look better in the clothes than I actually did, so that I would make an impulse buy I'd later regret when I got home and back to reality. They probably all knew I was too much of a procrastinator to ever return clothing on time.

But tonight was different: this dress still looked good even without the store mirror magic. It was tight around my body, accentuating my curves and showing off my back and shoulders. The bodice clung to my body all the way down to my hips before it flared out in a skirt of organza. Crystals decorated the bodice. With it, I put on silver jewelry, black shoes, and grabbed a matching clutch. I put on smoky makeup with dark red lipstick.

I turned around in the mirror and liked what I saw.

The doorbell chimed at the front door, and I opened it. A man in a black suit and chauffeur’s hat stood in front of me and bowed slightly at the hips.

“Miss Townsend,” he said. “Your car awaits.”

I threw my phone, lipstick, keys, and a credit card into my clutch and closed the door behind me. I followed the chauffeur to the street. A black limousine waited for me on the curb, and I stopped in my tracks. The chauffeur walked to the back door and opened it for me.

“Miss?” he said.

I swallowed, looking at him. This was a bit much, wasn’t it? 

When I slid onto the leather seats, I changed my mind. Okay, sure, it still may have been a bit much, but this was nice. I could get used to this, dressing up, being driven around by a chauffeur in a luxury car, and going to an expensive restaurant.

We stopped in front of Zuma and Hanson Bell stood outside, waiting for me. He smiled when I got out of the car. He looked me up and down before he thanked the chauffeur and gave him a time to collect us again.

“You look ravishing,” he said.

I couldn’t help but blush. When was the last time a man had called me ravishing? I would have to say the answer to that was never.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” I said.

Hanson wore a tuxedo, complete with bow tie and satin lapels, that made him look classy and refined. He smiled and held the door open for me. The hostess led us to our table.

I had never been to Zuma before. I’d only read about it. It had high ceilings and a bar to the side where Japanese chefs prepared sushi and other foods. We sat down at a light wood table with soft green leather seats, and a waitress brought us our menus.

“This is a great place,” I said, looking around. It was full. “How did you get reservations so easily?”

Hanson shrugged. “I’m Hanson Bell, remember?”

I nodded. Right. Special privileges and connections and all that. I glanced at the menu.

“I don’t know what to choose,” I said. “Everything looks so good.”

“Let me decide. I’ve been here before.”

I nodded. I didn’t usually let men take the lead. I hated being indecisive, but I wanted to get down to business. I couldn’t forget what I was doing here. The limo and dressing up and the expensive restaurant made it all feel like too much of a fairy tale.

I waited until Hanson ordered for us before I started.

“Okay, so about tonight,” I said. “I already told you what it’s all about. We’re going to this event so that you can mingle with the people who influence our society.”

Hanson frowned. “I’m going to be out of my league, then.”

I chuckled. “Maybe, but if people start associating you with people that influence society in a good way, they’ll start labeling you that way, too.”

He nodded. “Okay, I can understand that. I become good by association, then.”

“It’s a mindset,” I said. “And you’re showing them that you’re attending a cause that matters. People love a winner, but they love a hero more.”

“Selflessness,” Hanson said, pulling a face like the idea left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Tonight's event is for the children,” I said. “It’s a good cause. Don’t you like children?”

Hanson shrugged. “I do. I guess one day, I would like my own. Just not now, you know?”

I nodded.

“What about you?” he asked.

I looked at him. This topic of conversation wasn’t exactly where I’d meant to go with this.

“I like children,”’ I said. “I just don’t want any of my own.”

Hanson frowned. “Why not?”

“Personal taste, I guess.”

That, and I knew that it was a responsibility I would never be able to take on.

“Every woman wants children. It’s in your nature.”

“That,” I said, "is a sexist comment. It’s exactly what you need to watch out for when you focus on your public image. We’re not breeding machines or objects of pleasure.”

Hanson held up his hands. “I was really just asking why you don’t want kids,” he said. “No offense implied. I get it, I get it— not every woman is maternal.”

There was a sparkle in his eye, as if he had said what he did just to get the reaction out of me that he had received. He liked pushing my buttons. In more ways than one. And I hated that I kind of liked when he did it, too.

I nodded, trying to act unphased. “It’s fine. All I’m saying is that attending these kinds of events isn’t so bad. You’re really doing it all for yourself in the end. It’s a gift that keeps on giving.”

I was changing the topic. I needed to. He was getting me all flustered— hot and bothered in more ways than one. It was time to steer our conversation back to professional topics.

“You’re making it sound so glamorous,” Hanson said.

I chuckled. “It is. You can’t tell me you don’t feel good, being dressed like this, on our way to a place where everyone is doing something good?”

“I can tell you that seeing you dress like that makes me want to help you undress.”

I laughed, unable to hide my surprise. He was really shameless. And I couldn't help but love it.

“You can’t do this,” I said.

“You have a beautiful smile.”

I was blushing. I felt the flush creep onto my cheeks, and there was nothing I could do to hide it. I didn’t even have long hair to hide behind.

“I’m serious, Bell.”

He held up his hands. “If it’s going to make you address me by my surname again, I’ll stop it.”

His face was serious, but his hazel eyes were still smiling at me, and they made me feel a little unbalanced.

When the food arrived, I was grateful for the distraction. I had to take a moment to pull myself together again. This man knew exactly how to get a woman to unravel.