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Her hair was down for once. Tousled around her shoulders almost carelessly, she polished off what little makeup she wore with a bold deep wine lipstick. The Jillian Quinn I’d arrived in the city with was gone, and I was almost afraid to ask who was standing in front of me.
“You look stunning,” I managed as I took a breath. “Absolutely stunning.”
“You like it?” She did a little twirl. “It’d take me six months to pay it off, but Madame Darla insisted on not charging me. She said that it was made for me. Of course, I expect that Cindy does so much shopping in her store that it doesn’t matter if she gives away a dress for free.”
The woman clearly had no idea what she was doing to me. “I’ll buy you one in every color,” I said huskily. So I could have the pleasure of peeling each and every one off of her, but I didn’t voice that part out loud.
We were supposed to be just friends.
“Not necessary. I doubt I’ll ever be at something this fancy again.” She laughed before reaching up to gently run a finger over a button of my shirt. “I’m ready. You look very handsome. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tuxedo.”
It was an intimate moment, but from the look on her face, it wasn’t one that she’d planned. No seduction. Just instinct. “Necessary evil. I prefer jeans,” I admitted. Without thinking, I held my hand out to her, but she took it almost instantly, and I pulled her gently toward me.
“You can pull off both,” she said with a smile. “I don’t suppose we can grab some dinner on the way? My lunch was cut short by a crazy actress who needed to take me dress shopping.”
“Crazy actress?” I opened the door and stepped out in the hall. “Just who is your client?”
“Cindy Collins.”
At the sound of the famous actress’s name, I squeezed her hand a little too hard. “The Cindy Collins?” I demanded. “Did you tell her about us?”
“Whoa, Brendan, calm down. No. She doesn’t know about you. You can still play your games with Blackwell.”
It was obvious that I’d upset her, and I forced myself to relax.
“I’m sorry, Jillian,” I said sincerely as I brought her hand up and crushed my lips across her knuckles. “I didn’t mean to react like that. It just took me by surprise.”
Smiling gently, she reached up and briefly touched my face. “I keep my personal and professional life as separate as possible, so we should be fine. No worries, okay? Let’s go dazzle Blackwell so I can get out of this dress. I had to swear on everything that’s holy that I wouldn’t wear anything underneath it, so I feel super exposed right now.”
“You’re naked under that thing?” I wished she hadn’t told me that. I was going to sweat all night just thinking about it. “Never mind. I’m just going to picture you in granny panties.” Which wouldn’t do a thing to ease the ache inside of me.
By the time we reached the gala, every bone in my body wanted to turn around, go back to the hotel, and spend the night in her sweet arms. Money and land be damned, but there was something about the twinkle in her eye, the excitement on her face that stopped me.
This was the kind of night that I’d never been able to give her before. Beautiful dresses, expensive champagne, and dancing amongst the rich and famous. She’d never wanted it then, and I felt just as sure that she wouldn’t have wanted it now had she not been given the opportunity, but she looked around like a kid at Christmas. For the first time, there was no evidence of the stress of her job or our marriage.
As we climbed out of the car, I tossed the keys to the valet kid who hardly looked old enough to be driving. Placing my hand gently on Jillian’s back, I leaned down and brushed my lips against her ear. “Don’t worry about us tonight, sweetheart. Just relax and have a good time, okay?”
“I thought I was here to make an impression,” she said with a puzzled look on her face.
Not anymore. “You’re just here to enjoy a fun night out. Tonight, I think, all the men will be looking at me in jealousy.”
A shy smile spread across her face, and she blushed a little. Never in my life had I seen that woman embarrassed. Had I not complimented her enough before? Made her feel so special?
I certainly hadn’t after the miscarriage. She wanted space, and I gave it to her. In spades. All the nights that I’d stayed out drinking and came home to find her curled up on the couch, the pillow beneath her stained with her tears. All the times I’d been so hurt when she flinched from my touch that I’d just stormed out.
