“Talia, no.”

“Iris. Yes. Try it on. Now.”

“I would never, ever wear this in public. It’s like . . . tissue paper.”

“All the better to get ripped off you, my dear.”

This woman was worse than Sara. “Who exactly is going to be ripping it off me?” she asked suspiciously.

Talia gave an infuriatingly noncommittal shrug. “Whoever.”

The “it” in question was a bikini. It wasn’t exactly indecent as bikinis went, even if it was mostly comprised of string and precisely three scraps of material that were indeed a lovely shade of blush pink. “I would never wear it. I would be wasting my money.”

“I believe in this so much that I would buy this for you.”

“And you know I can’t let you do that.”

“Honey, I’m telling you. With your body and your complexion, this would be the absolute shit on you.” Iris supposed that was a good thing. Talia thrust the suit into her hands. “Trust me. I know all about these things.”

Solely to indulge the other woman, Iris looked at the price tag and nearly choked. She shook her head and put it back on the rack. “I can’t.”

“I-ris.”

“You get it. It would be the absolute shit on you too.”

Talia dissolved into laughter. “Don’t say that. It only sounds weird when you say it, like Mary Poppins trying to cuss.”

Great. Thanks, she thought. “Really, I don’t need it. Let’s move on.”

Iris lost sight of Talia shortly after that, but found her again in the lingerie. She prepared herself to be accosted with piles of filmy, lacy underthings she would also never wear, but Talia seemed to have accepted her defeat. The woman was loaded with bags; she’d already made one trip to their car, and she would soon need to make another. Iris had purchased exactly one pair of silver earrings, the little bag tucked safely into her purse. If those were her only souvenirs from this trip, that was fine with her.

Talia had bought earrings too. At Tiffany & Co. Her credit card was surely charred and smoking by now. Iris had never seen anything like it before in her life, even with Heidi. Eli should be relieved; it was Russell they should be worried about.

They had a light early dinner, and Iris thought that surely the evening was winding down. But then Talia dragged her to a hairstylist. She sat and chewed her thumbnail, watching as several inches of her hair came off. The stylist left it in big, loose waves that she loved but would probably never be able to recreate. They got manis and pedis after Talia took a glance at that bitten thumbnail and declared it unacceptable.

All these things that were supposed to be so relaxing . . . they stressed her out to the max. Though she had to admit, her fingernails looked good.

“Let me dress you,” Talia said excitedly as they were leaving the salon. “Just once. Nothing embarrassing or indecent, I promise. But let me pick out something I think you would look fabulous in, and do not overrule me.”

“But why? I don’t get it.”

“Because I love makeovers. You have no idea, but you can ask anyone. Even if someone doesn’t need a makeover, I can make them over. I guess I never grew out of playing with dolls, I don’t know. I should have been a stylist. But you . . . You are a beautiful woman, but you downplay it. I’m just wondering, is it intentional or what?”

“It’s not something that ever interested me.”

“Heidi doesn’t make you dress up?”

“Sure, I have to dress up sometimes, and I do.”

“You take the simplest thing you can find and spruce it up as best you can, huh?”

Iris sighed, longing for an escape she knew she wasn’t going to find. “Something like that, yeah. I don’t do glamour.”

“You don’t have to do glamour. You can wear sweats and a top knot and still slay. But I love beauty, and I love sharing it.” Talia skipped in front of her, holding her arms, her expression pleading. “Come on, let me do this. You won’t regret it. I know all about these things.”

Against her better judgment, Iris sighed and nodded. “Fine. Whatever. Do it.”

Later, as they were heading back to the hotel in the SUV, Talia leaned over and dug in one of her bags. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.”

Iris turned her head from watching the city lights pass by outside her window. “What?”

A dainty pile of fabric landed in her lap. “That’s for you.” Confused, Iris lifted it for better inspection. A passing street light highlighted the soft pink hue of the bikini she had refused earlier.

“Talia! You shouldn’t have done this.”

Talia’s pillow-like lips curled into a self-satisfied grin. “Well, shut up. I did it.”

“It might not even fit—”

“It will. Trust me.”

“Because you know all about these things,” Iris finished for her wryly.

Talia settled back with an almost infuriating sense of triumph. “Exactly.”

––––––––

THE WOMAN WHO SHOWED up at his hotel door to pick up the boys scarcely resembled the one he’d left in the lobby earlier.

Oh, it was still Iris, all right. But her dark hair spilled around her bare shoulders like shadowy silk, loose and lazily curled. Her flowing tank dress was a pristine white, heightening the tan she’d picked up during many pool visits with the boys. Slim gold bracelets encircled her wrists; matching necklaces draped around her neck. Her dewy skin caught the overhead lighting and glowed, subtle makeup enhancing delicate features. Those blue eyes, usually sweet and direct, now smoldered, shone, like light shining through sapphires.

He’d left a beautiful woman. He’d opened the door to a bronze goddess, right down to her gold sandals.

“Hi. I didn’t know if you wanted me to get them or if they were staying with you tonight . . .”

Her voice rushed on, but Eli was oblivious. It took a moment before he remembered to breathe. “H-hey,” he forced out, struck stupid.

“Talia did it,” she murmured, tearing her gaze away from his and pinning it to the floor around his feet. He wanted more than anything to tilt her chin up, because she should never try to hide that face. Even as he had the thought, she wrapped her arms around herself as if self-conscious of his eyes on her.

“She, uh . . . she did good.”

That made her eyes flicker up to his again. “Thank you,” she murmured, a gentle note of surprise in her voice. Her lightly glossed lips curled upward.

“Iris! Iris, you look pretty!” Dylan materialized at his side. Eli dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Doesn’t she look pretty, Dad?”

“She does.”

Dylan launched into a tale about everything they’d seen today, while Elijah watched Iris’s delighted attention toward his son’s every word and gesture. The way her eyes lit up. The way she smiled down at him, engaged him. Goddamn. She was gorgeous. Far too stunning to take the kids and go back to her room. She needed to be shown off.

Except he didn’t want anyone else looking at her.

“Did you eat yet?” he asked, drawing her attention away from his son.

“Talia and I grabbed something. How about you guys?”

“We did, but I was thinking about taking them for gelato or something.”

“You were?” Dylan looked up at him excitedly. “You told us to get ready for bed like three minutes ago.”

Kids were awesome. “Changed my mind. Go put on your shoes and get your brother.”

He was off like a rocket, leaving Eli wrapped in awkward silence as Iris stood outside. “They should enjoy that,” she said hesitantly. “Do you want me to come back, or did you want to drop them by later?”

“I thought you might like to come with us.”

“Oh! Really? Sure. I’d love that.”

She blessed him with the biggest smile he thought he’d ever seen on her lips. Eli didn’t have any excuse nor explanation for the image that shot through his mind then: grabbing her up in his arms, messing up that pretty pink lip gloss with his mouth, smearing it, tasting it, seeing how breathless he could make her before his kids came back. His arms around her waist would cause her dress to ride up her perfect legs. He would feel the cool air between the fabric and her warm flesh. Her floral scent, teasing at the edges of his senses even now, would swamp him. Like a man dying of thirst, he would drink her in.

Of course, knowing Iris, she would slap his face, and he would deserve it. He licked his lips and blew out a breath as he heard feet running up behind him, concentrating hard to keep his cock from throbbing against his fly. Naturally, the more he willed it to behave, the more eager it became.

This was not what he needed right now, so why the fuck wasn’t he sending her back to her room? Because he was a fucking dumbass, that’s why. Grabbing the key card from the desk nearby, he let the boys rush ahead and closed the door behind him, all too aware of Iris at his side as they walked the hallway. How tiny she was next to him. How light she would be if he were to lift her and pin her against the wall. As they stopped to wait for the elevator, Dylan and Seger shoving each other’s hands away to push the button, he rubbed a hand down his overheated face.

Iris must have thought his exasperation was over the boys’ bickering, so she stepped in and separated them. Hell, he hadn’t even been listening to them. “It’s his turn, Seger,” she scolded. “Be nice, apple slice.”

Eli couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. She cocked a newly shaped eyebrow at him.

“Do you come up with these on the fly, or what?”

“Sometimes. Why?”

“Just wondering.” It was so dorky, but he loved it. “One day you’re going to rhyme at me.”

Iris chuckled, watching the digital numbers change as their elevator approached. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh yes, you are. Sassafras.” Move your ass, sassafras, he’d said to her this morning. He could think of a few ways he’d like to see her move it. It was all the sweeter for the fucking impossibility of it. She was the most off-limits woman on the face of the earth.

Which was surely why he couldn’t take his eyes off her as they walked into the elevator. He brooded in the corner, cataloging everything about her as she stood with her slender arm resting loosely around Dylan’s shoulders. The curve of her calf beneath the hem of her dress. Her little pink toenails. The way the light cast that silvery halo onto her dark hair. What the fuck.

Iris glanced over her shoulder at him, probably wondering why he was so quiet, surprise softening her features when she realized it was because he was leering at her like a creep. Or so he figured. He stood straighter and, with some effort, tore his eyes away to glance over at Seger. The boy was staring right at him, a knowing smirk on his face.

Yeah, kids were awesome. Always calling you out on your bullshit.