Page 58 of A Perfect Fit

“As you should.” I point to the mannequin next to the clothes rack. “This is Emma, by the way.”

Jackson’s lips twitch with amusement. “What happened to Daisy?”

“She fell again and broke her hip.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he dryly says.

“Thanks.” I take the first dress off the rack and show it to him. It’s a white floral minidress that was inspired by the cheongsam, which is a traditional, form-fitting Chinese dress with a stand-up Mandarin collar and side slits.

“Anyway, this is the first one,” I say. “I wanted to design a few dresses in my collection to honor my culture.”

Jackson studies the dress, a softness in his eyes. “It’s beautiful. You’re so talented.”

I giggle and wave a hand. “Oh, you flatter me. Don’t say things like that, or I might become cocky like you.”

I’m expecting him to say something witty in return, but the tenderness in his facial expression doesn’t fade.

“It’s true.”

My body buzzes at his words, and I wonder what it’d be like if I kissed him right now. We already did it once tonight, so what harm could a second kiss do?

His eyes trail to my lips, as if he’s thinking of the same thing. But then he swallows and turns his head to stare at my clothes rack.

Oh. Guess I was wrong.

“Show me your next design.” Jackson’s voice comes out strained—or maybe I’m only imagining it.

Ignoring the disappointment gliding through me, I move on to the next outfit. It’s a floor-length lilac dress with tulle and hand-embroidered flowers. “This one’s inspired by my favorite song—‘Enchanted’ by Taylor Swift. I wanted to capture the same fairy-tale-like feeling of falling in love.”

Jackson is seemingly lost in thought as he stares at the dress, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

I wave a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay? What are you thinking about?”

He turns to look at me, and when he speaks, his voice is velvety, suave. “How beautiful you would look in that dress.”

Jackson Carter is calling me beautiful?

Exhilaration soars through my body, and I’m not just floating on cloud nine; I’m flying and dancing on it.

I remove the dress from its hanger and align it against my body, doing a twirl. Except now the entire room feels like it’s spinning around me.

“I feel so dizzy,” I groan.

“Let’s sit,” Jackson suggests.

“Okay,” I murmur.

Jackson guides me to the couch and walks to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water. “Drink this.”

“Thanks.” I take the glass. “You know, when you’re not acting all jackassy, you actually have a really caring and sweet side to you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It is one.”

I chug down the water, and when I’m done, Jackson takes my empty glass.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.