*
Zane had neverbelieved the saying clothes made the man, but they sure made a helluva difference for McKenna. At least he thought it was McKenna. The voice was hers, but that was all he could swear to in a court of law.
Her brows furrowed, she said, “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“About you, yes. About the shoes, no.”
She smiled, making her face light up and his breath hitch, catching him unaware. The image of her in his arms yesterday, of the secrets he’d shared with her filled his mind. What was there about this woman? She irritated him, made him lose control, and wasn’t at all his type, so why did he spend time thinking about her? And more than a little.
Like last night. When he’d hauled Campbell away, she’d painted a vivid picture of what she’d like to do with and to him. In the past, he’d have gladly accepted the excuse to burn off sexual steam, but instead, her offer left him uninspired. His motor hadn’t left first gear, while here, gazing at McKenna standing there, his heart rate shifted out of second, heading for third.
Instead of boxy black clothes, she wore a brown skirt that hugged her hips before it flared out, stopping below her knees. She’d cinched in the white blouse with a belt, giving her a slender, yet decidedly, hourglass shape. How come he hadn’t realized how skinny she was? No skinny wasn’t the right word, because she had some fine curves. Lean or slender maybe.
But that wasn’t the only change. Her hair was different. Instead of her headache bun, she wore a softer style and left a few strands framing her face.
Saying McKenna looked nice had been too mild. Pretty damn fine sounded better.
“If my shoes are that ugly, I guess it’s a good thing I have my cowboy boots in the car. Will those do?”
“They’ll be better than those,” he said, nodding to the old lady pumps she wore, but he’d prefer those short boots women wore now. Then he could see her shapely, surprisingly muscular calves.
“Don’t you look pretty,” Rosalie said.
After thanking Rosalie for the compliment, McKenna turned to him, confusing lining her face. “It’s a good thing I’m not paranoid. Otherwise, the way you keep showing up unexpectedly, I’d think you were following me.”
“Now who’s got the big ego?” he teased.
Behind them, Rosalie cleared her throat, breaking the tension between them. “I have Ginny’s lotion behind the counter, and McKenna, since you’re holding your clothes, I’m guessing you intend to leave with what you have on. If you two follow me, I’ll get you checked out.”
When they reached register, McKenna placed her clothes on the counter. “See to Zane first since he only has the lotion.”
While he paid, McKenna fingered through the display of necklaces, selecting one with six turquoise chunks separated by silver beads on leather cords and held it to her neck.
“The necklace would be perfect with what you’re wearing,” Rosalie said.
“Jewelry will have to wait. I need to get to work before the boss gets mad.” McKenna returned the necklace to the display. “Rosalie, could you select two other work appropriate outfits and a couple dresses for weddings I could try on tomorrow? I can stop in when you open. After being in your shop, I’ve realized my wardrobe needs a serious overhaul.”
“That’s for sure.” Zane chuckled. His purchase completed, he stepped aside, but made no move to leave.
“I’d be happy to, but if you’re short on time, you can take the items, try them at home whenever, return what doesn’t work, and we’ll settle up.”
“That would be a huge help since my weekends are crazy.” McKenna chewed on her lower lip. “Just nothing ornate, busy, or flashy.”
“Don’t worry. I want you to not only look wonderful but feel comfortable and confident. My customers are my walking advertisements.” Rosalie placed McKenna’s ugly, black clothes on tissue paper.
“Don’t waste your time bagging that stuff,” Zane turned to McKenna. “You ought to have Rosalie throw ’em out.”
“That would be wasteful. If I don’t keep them, I’ll give them to charity,” McKenna said.
“Lord don’t do that. People down on their luck have enough trouble hanging on to hope without dressing in all black. Those clothes would depress Mother Teresa.”
McKenna chuckled. “Okay. That was funny.”
She admitted it? He’d better be prepared. Who knew what miracle could happen next?
“Zane, your sense of humor reminds me of your dear grandfather,” Rosalie said and handed him scissors. “Would you cut off the price tags?”
Cut off the tags? On the clothes McKenna had on? He paused. As in reach inside her shirt and skirt to get the tags?
