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“Stop. Right. There.” He glowered. “I asked you to indulge me and you agreed.”
“I thought you wanted me to look at something interesting.”
He shrugged. “Consider me spoiling you the most fascinating subject ever.”
With a roll of her eyes, she sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t need to buy me anything.”
Jason studied her with a frown. She would spend every day and night until their anniversary with him for a healthy divorce settlement, but wouldn’t accept his gifts during their marriage? “I didn’t need a new Porsche last month, but it made me happy. Not everything is about necessity.”
“Have you ever heard the words ‘frugal’ or ‘economical?’”
“I have. They only apply when I wish them to. Don’t worry about money, Gia. I have nine zeroes in my bank total. I can handle a day of shopping.”
“I won’t wear any of this when I go back to work.”
Her argument was somewhere between tiring and insulting. “So I should not wish to buy things for my wife for the express purpose of seeing her look good or smiling?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then explain. If I had to guess, you think that if I spend money on your clothing, I’ll demand something from you in return.”
“It feels a lot like you’re trying to buy me, the way your father did your mother.”
So she wanted his money without strings? That made sense to the cynic in him, but every other part of him protested that Gia wasn’t mercenary.
Jason snorted. Either he was getting soft or his wife had played him well.
“Not at all. Let me put it to you this way: Would your mother ever object to your father if he wanted to do something nice for her?”
Gia paused, obviously trying to think of some way—any way—she could say yes to that and mean it. Finally, she gave a little huff. “No.”
“Because if your father told your mother they could afford something, she would just accept that as fact.”
Her long sigh told Jason he’d hit a bull’s-eye. “Yes.”
“Can you give me the same courtesy?”
“My father would never buy her all the things you’re suggesting,” she argued.
“He likes to make her happy, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then if he had the means, I guarantee he would buy her everything in the store she wanted. Hell, you make it sound like he’d give her the world.”
“He loves her.”
“He values her above all others.” And now they were playing a game of semantics. “Just like I value you. I fail to see the difference.”
The sales associate saved him whatever argument Gia had on the tip of her tongue by coming in with an armful of bright but warm clothes for the coming winter. She set them in the first dressing room then disappeared and returned moments later with two fellow employees, who each carried in shoes and bags and a stack of lacy panties, sheer bras, and even a pair of stockings or two.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you. If you need me sooner, there’s a call button on the wall.”
“Give us half an hour, please.” He smiled politely, but it wasn’t a request.
The woman didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
As she left, Jason looked around in satisfaction. He’d been inside dressing rooms equipped with what his father used to refer to as the “man chair,” but he’d never seen one outfitted with something between a chaise and a bed. It looked ready for sex. Draped in fuchsia, emerald, bright blue, and gold, he lounged back on the soft surface and watched his wife stomp toward the first dressing room.
