I studied the dress in the mirror and frowned. Will was right about shopping being a good distraction. I walked out and narrowed my eyes at his relaxed form on the couch. Because yeah, apparently, this designer boutique he’d dragged me into had a formal waiting area for wealthy men.

“No.” I had to say it on principle. The dress was lovely; it clung to my curves in a subtle way that still made it business appropriate, and the blue popped against my skin. It even hit at my knees, making it a respectable length. But it was in no way worth the price tag.

He looked me over with keen interest. “Oh, yes.”

“Tell me again why this is better than my skirt suit.”

“Because it’s French.”

“Still not following that logic.”

“Fashion and appearance are a staple in France, and even more so in business.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued. “The French associates dress with status and success, which means we need to show up in style. Hence . . .” He waved a hand at my dress.

I pursed my lips. “Surely there are less expensive stores.”

“Of course, but in France, you buy the best you can afford.”

Aha! “Well, I can’t afford this.” Too bad, so sad. I started to turn, when his retort froze me in place.

“Perhaps, but I can, and you’re directly associated with me as my legal counsel. We’re buying the dress and the two you tried on before it.”

Damn it. I’d loved those, too, but I kept putting them back because of the cost.

“We’ll need shoes as well, and lingerie, of course. Assuming you want more stockings?” Even without looking at him, I knew he was eyeing the ones on my legs.

“And what are you shopping for?” He had yet to try anything on or search for his own clothes. We spent the morning at a café near the Eiffel Tower, then took a long walk around it for sightseeing before we meandered this way to what he referred to as the hottest shopping area in all of Paris. What he really meant was “most expensive.” Though, the clothes were lovely.

“Are you eager for me to model some things for you?” he teased.

I looked over my shoulder at him. “Actually, yes. I am.” If he wanted to distract me from the Ryan situation, he should model for me naked. No way would I be able to think of anything else with all his muscular perfection on display.

Challenge lit his eyes. “I’ll model for you if you model for me.”

Did I say the naked thing out loud, or did he just read that from my eyes? “But I am modeling for you.” I gestured innocently to my dress in an attempt to weigh his reaction.

“Lingerie,” was his single-word reply. My cheeks heated.

“That’s hardly a fair trade.”

He arched that arrogant brow of his. “You didn’t ask what I would be modeling in return, gorgeous.”

“And what are you offering?”

His elbows went to his knees as he leaned toward me. “Whatever you want, clothing or otherwise. Your choice.”

“Anything I want?” I repeated. “Are you sure you want to play that game with me, Mershano?”

“Absolutely, because I’ll be the one selecting the lingerie you model.” My lips parted at his boldness. His gaze ran over me hungrily as he added, “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll pick out stockings for you too.”

When he said he wanted to forget what happened this morning, at least for the day, he wasn’t joking. I expected all sorts of awkwardness between us, but he treated me just as he usually did. Sexy as always. I considered his offer. There were some ridiculous outfits in the first store we went to. Seeing him in one of those would be more than worth a few poses in lingerie sets for him.

“You’re on,” I said decidedly. If anything, it would be a fun way to spend our afternoon, and I was determined to do just that.

After reflecting on this morning’s events, I concluded that Ryan was trying to manipulate me. He wanted to ruin this trip for me, and he knew the best way to do that was to scare me into submission through a creepy romantic gesture. Ignoring the flowers in my room and enjoying my day was the opposite of what he wanted. Leaving the hotel today with my head held high loosened a notch of Ryan’s control because, rather than wallow in fear, I decided to live. I suspected Will knew all of that already, which was why he suggested we venture out today.

He paid for the dresses and asked for a courier to deliver them to his room at the hotel. We hadn’t given up the one in my name, but we had no intention of using it.

Before we left this morning, Mershano Suites confirmed that the flowers were delivered to the reception and they carried them up to the room. Will gave the staff a photo of Ryan and asked them to notify him immediately if they spotted anyone resembling my ex wandering the grounds. I wasn’t there for the discussion, but I saw the reverence casted his way as we left. He might not be involved in the management chain for the hotel, but they knew who he was and respected him for it.

“How about here,” Will said as we walked by a boutique that catered to men. A peek in the windows showed an array of fun options for his future fashion show.

I opened the door while replying, “Oh, this will be fun.”

Thirty minutes later, Will headed off to the fitting area with a shake of his head while I made myself comfortable on the plush couch. A sharply dressed tailor stood nearby, ready to assist Will with any suits he intended to purchase. I picked a few, mainly because the man looked amazing in them, but I also threw in some random colorful outfits and scarves just to tease him. Then he walked out in one of the odd combinations, and my jaw dropped.

No. Fucking. Way.

“That’s not fair,” I whispered. The pink-and-orange combination had looked ridiculous on the mannequin, yet it somehow worked on him. He tucked his hands into the pockets of the tight jeans and did a slow twirl that drew my attention to his fine ass. “I’m going to need you to stand just like that for at least ten minutes.”

He met my gaze in the mirror. “Turnabout is fair play, darlin’.”

I scanned his backside. Admiring this view in exchange for modeling lingerie in a similar fashion? “Worth it.” If I had my phone, I would have snapped a photo, but I left it at the hotel with my purse. The last thing I wanted was a way for Ryan to track me down.

Will must have sensed the turn in my thoughts, because he did a little jig that would have made me laugh if those jeans weren’t so damn tight. Instead, my throat went dry.

“You need to buy those.”

He snorted. “They’re impractical.”

“I wasn’t going to recommend you wear them while working in the vineyard, Mershano.”

That eyebrow went up. “Yeah? Come here for a second.”

“Uh, why?”

“I want to show you something.”

I so did not trust that innocent look or tone. He was up to something. I unfolded myself from the plush couch and moved to stand before him. Will asked the tailor for a glass of champagne in French, which I translated to mean he wanted a moment of privacy. The elder gentleman gave a nod and disappeared, leaving us alone in the dressing area.

“Take them off.” His deep baritone hit me in all the right places.

“Your jeans?” A stupid question. That’s obviously what he meant, but he couldn’t be serious. I took in his dilated pupils and expression and swallowed. Okay, yeah, he wasn’t teasing. “Here?” It came out in a whisper.

“Yes.” Still no hint of jest, and if the bulge growing beneath his zipper was anything to go by, he really did want me to remove his pants.

Not the place I expected this to happen, but the forbidden nature of his command sent a shiver of delight down my spine. A naked Will? Yes, please. I ran my hands up his thighs, loving the feel of his muscles bunching along the way. Heat radiated from him, emboldening my attentions. His hardening cock pulsed beneath my finger as I traced the impressive length up to the gold button. It flicked open with ease, and I drew the zipper down to reveal his navy briefs.

A glance down had me licking my lips. “I approve.” Especially since it was the pair I picked out with his clothes.

“Keep going.” Lust laced through his tone and darkened his gaze. He didn’t have to tell me twice. Except when I tried to push them down, they barely moved. I put more power into it and felt a surge of frustration when they still failed to cooperate.

“Problem?” he asked, voice low.

I pursed my lips as the purpose of this game became obvious. When he referred to their practicality, he meant they were too tight to enjoy the benefits. It was false advertising. Hey, look at my assets, but good luck getting to them. “At least they look good on,” I muttered.

“But what’s the point if you can’t take them off?”

Oh, I could, but it would dampen the moment. Just like it did now. I narrowed my eyes up at him. “You win this round, Mershano. Next outfit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tilted that nonexistent hat at me again as he disappeared behind the curtain. I snickered a little when it took him over ten minutes to change, which was just in time for the tailor to return with the champagne. I suspected he took longer than needed to give us privacy.

Will thanked him and set his flute aside to fix the collar of his shirt in the mirror. It gave me a great view of his backside, which was as flawless as ever in his dark suit. The navy blue was almost black, and the jacket fit him perfectly, though the tailor made a few comments about arm lengths in French. They conversed for several minutes as the white-haired man measured the inseams of the pants, his arm, and a few other interesting places. When he finished, Will looked over his shoulder at me.

“Fishing for compliments?” I teased. Not like his ego needed it.

“Always.”

I rolled my eyes. “You look amazing and you know it.”

He smiled broadly at that. “Amazing?”

“Handsome, gorgeous, mouthwatering, delicious.” I threw them all out there, each deepening the dimples at his cheeks. “Oh, whatever. We both know your ego doesn’t need any more stroking.”

“From you? I always welcome stroking.” He winked and disappeared behind the curtain to try on several more outfits, all of them equally breathtaking.

“Well, at least you have a backup job should this vineyard thing not work out,” I said after we left. He left his suits with the tailor, promising to be back in the morning for a final fitting. That kind of turnaround couldn’t be typical, especially since tomorrow was Sunday, but the store seemed more than happy to accommodate him.

“Yeah, and what’s that?” Will asked, referring to my backup-job comment.

“Modeling.” He could easily work in the fashion industry or star in one of those male fitness magazines.

He laughed and shook his head. “I think I’ll stick with my vineyards, darlin’.” His arm settled on my shoulders as he pulled me into him. “But I vote we see how you measure up as a lingerie model.”

I scoffed at that. “Uh, that would be more suitable for Sarah.” She had curves in all the right places, while mine were too slim for that industry. I had the height for it, and maybe even the legs, but my B-cups weren’t all that exciting.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said as we entered our final store. Will greeted the female storeowner and introduced me as his “lady friend” who required at least two weeks of undergarments. Everything was in French, which was on par with the rest of our trip so far, including his list of desired lingerie items. Apparently, he knew his way around women’s underwear better than I did, something I didn’t want to think on too heavily.

I frowned when the saleswoman started bagging all the items he requested. “Am I’m not trying these on first?” He’d already proven to know my sizes, so it shouldn’t have surprised me, but I expected him to request I model them first.

“Oh, you will. Later.” He nailed me with a look that left me weak in the knees. Hunger mingled with promise in those dark depths and sent my thoughts directly south. “You still owe me a modeling session, Rachel. And I intend to collect on that soon.”

My lips parted, but I had no words. He couldn’t mean . . .

“I held up my side of our bargain,” he continued in that deep rumble. “Not my fault you chose the store as a location.”

“Not fair,” I managed in a whisper.

He grinned at that. “I warned you, darlin’. With you, I’ll never play fair. Now, where should we go to dinner?”