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"Claire?" I lifted my gaze to his face. "Who dared to say you weren't beautiful?"
He seemed awfully angry about it, as if he'd march right out and punch this person in the nose. Remembering his treatment of Josh, he might.
"I only have to look in the mirror to know the truth. On a good day - a really good day - I'm passably pretty. " I held up my hand to forestall his arguments. "And that's okay. Once I thought I wanted to be in front of the camera, to be the star. But I wasn't good enough. If I'm honest, I wasn't all that disappointed. I liked running things. "
I paused. Maybe that was why being the mayor wasn't the snore fest I'd thought it would be. I was running a lot of things, and I wasn't half-bad at it.
"There's more to beauty than the curve of a cheek or the length of one's hair. " Mal began to play with the ribbon that held the neck of my gown closed. "There's loyalty and honor and strength. Caring about people who need you, and not disappointing them. In that regard, you're lovely beyond words. "
His eyes met mine as slowly he tugged the ribbon loose until the collar gaped. "You know this covering doesn't cover you very well?"
I glanced down. The silky white material wasn't transparent; however, it did cling like Saran Wrap, revealing the spike of my nipples and the curve of my breasts and belly as if they'd been wrought in plaster.
He cupped me through the material, his dark hand stark against the sheer white. "It only makes me want to take it off you. May I?"
I opened my mouth to say no. It was broad daylight; he'd see every flaw. But suddenly I no longer cared, and wasn't that progress?
"Yes," I whispered, and his eyes widened. He hadn't expected me to agree.
His hand dropped away. "Claire, maybe - "
"I thought you wanted me naked. "
"I did. I do. "
I reached for the hem.
And the damn doorbell rang.
Chapter 27
I considered ignoring the bell, but at this hour the summons had to be important.
"I'll be right back. " I tugged on my robe as I hurried downstairs.
Oprah wound her body around the newel post, purring so loudly I swear the floor vibrated. She hadn't been so happy to see me in. . . forever.
I glanced through the peephole, and the reason for Oprah's joy became apparent. Grace stood on the porch.
"Claire?" she called. "I know you're there. "
I frowned. How could she know?
"Your stairs creak," she said, "and I can see your shadow at the peephole. You might also want to get this window" - she rapped at the glass next to the door, which was covered with a thin white drape - "frosted. "
I opened the door.
She looked me up and down. "I woke you?"
"What the hell time is it?"
"Six a. m. "
I rubbed my forehead. "What do you think?"
"Sorry. " She bent to pick up Oprah, who was snaking through Grace's ankles and yowling for attention. The cat put her nose right up to Grace's and rubbed.
"What is it with you and that cat?" I asked.
