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A flush rose in Jennifer’s cheeks. “Oh, but he’s not—” She hesitated. What harm could there be in pretending? It was such a wonderful thing to imagine, a fantasy beyond all fantasies, and it would hurt no one to indulge it for just a little while. “All right,” she said. “Let’s give him a fashion show, if that’s what he wants.”
“I think,” the assistant said in a conspiratorial whisper, “that he just wishes to make you happy. I have never seen a man smile so when his lady twirls before him in a new dress.”
He did look happy, Jennifer thought each time she stepped out from behind the fitting room door. And by the time she had tried everything on, she was happy, too.
Part of it was because of the beautiful clothes, but more of it was because there was such joy in pleasing Roarke.
Her thoughts darted to the woman who had once been his wife.
Had she had ever taken any pleasure at all in making him happy?
When the little fashion show was over, Jennifer slipped her own dress on and combed her fingers through her hair.
The bubbling saleswoman would be disappointed. All this time and there wouldn’t be anything to show for it.
Maybe she’d look at a silk scarf or something. It would still cost a fortune and it wouldn’t come close to making up for the woman’s hopes of having made an enormous sale, but—
She caught her breath as she stepped out of the fitting room. Roarke stood waiting at the door, surrounded by stacks of glossy little boxes and sacks.
“Enjoy your new things, señorita,” the saleswoman said happily and while Jennifer was still trying to come up with a response, Roarke took her by the arm and led her out to a waiting limo. He handed her inside, leaned forward and spoke to the driver who smiled, nodded, and went inside the store.
“Roarke,” Jennifer said in a warning tone.
Too late.
The driver and the salesclerk emerged, arms loaded with packages, and dumped them in the car’s trunk.
“Roarke,” Jennifer said again, “what did you do?”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide which things I liked the best, so I took them all.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You took them—”
He silenced her with a kiss.
“Including that little silk bra and the thong that goes with it.”
She blushed as the driver got behind the wheel and the cab pulled into traffic.
“He’ll hear you,” she hissed. “And weren’t you listening to me? I told you I wouldn’t let you buy me—”
“Yes. I know.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “But it gave me more pleasure that I can describe.”
“Roarke, that may have worked once. But—”
“Please.” His hand tightened on hers. “Please say you’ll accept my gifts.”
Please, he’d said, and with that one simple word he’d changed everything.
There was something incredibly touching in knowing that she held such power over this man who could make the world jump at the snap of his fingers.
“You’re impossible.”
His grin was quick, sexy and undeniably wicked. “Is that a yes?”
“Truly.” She tried hard to sound angry. “Truly, you are—”
He pulled her to him and kissed her.
