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Everyone else had worn jeans.
“You look nice, Mama,” Tommy had whispered shyly, slipping his hand into hers, but she’d known she looked as out of place as she felt. Each year since, she’d worn the white jeans and the silk T-shirt. Each time, Tommy said she looked beautiful. Would a man think so, too? Harman wouldn’t. He didn’t like her in jeans, didn’t like her in silk, didn’t like—
Dawn pushed the clothing aside. “Forget it. I’m not going.”
“And you can borrow these,” Cassie said, kicking off her shoes.
“Those? With the nine inch heels? No way.”
“Three inch heels. And I know, it’s not the most hygienic trade but I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, the nail polish on my toes works as an antiseptic.”
Dawn laughed. “I didn’t mean—Cass, this is just so silly…”
“Look, I just spent half an hour battling dust bunnies in your closet. The least you can do is let me see how you look in the only things you own that pass for date clothes, okay?”
Dawn sighed. “It’s all I’m going to do.” She slipped off her robe and stepped into the jeans, pulled on the T-shirt, slid her feet into Cassie’s shoes and gaped down at them. They were all straps and heel. “How do you walk in these things?”
“Slowly. And carefully.” Cassie grinned. “Sometimes, you just have to grab your date’s arm for support, you know?”
“I don’t have a date.”
“This is silly. A perfectly nice man asks you to have dinner and you act as if a sex fiend invited you out for the evening. What’s with you?”
“Nothing’s with me. I just—I don’t—”
“Whoa.” Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think he’s dangerous, do you? That he’s somehow connected to your ex?”
“No,” Dawn said, and meant it. She’d discarded that idea almost as soon as she’d thought it. “I can’t imagine Gray and Har—Gray and my husband in the same room.” She laughed. “I can’t even imagine them on the same planet. And you’ve got it wrong, Cass. I told you, I don’t have an `ex.’ Legally, I’m still—”
“Married. Right. To some no-good bastard who still scares you, even though he’s out of your life. What you need is to go out, forget the past and have some fun.”
Dawn shook her head. Pulling on the T-shirt had loosened the scrunchie she wore. It slid off, and her hair swung loose around her face.
“I don’t want that kind of fun,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to get involved with anybody. I’m perfectly happy just the way I am.”
“Amazing,” Cassie said, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. “A guy asks her for a drink and she hears Mendelssohn playing in the background.”
“What?”
“Mendelssohn. The Wedding March.” Cassie lifted one eyebrow. “Surprising the heck out of you today, aren’t I? Old movies, dead composers…”
“And bad advice. There’s no reason for me to meet this man.”
“He has a name. Why not use it?”
“Fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll say the whole thing. There’s no reason for me to meet Gray Baron.”
“Gorgeous name. Gorgeous guy.”
“You saw him for two minutes.”
“Two minutes was enough. When I spotted you talking to him, I knew he was spectacular. And when I got closer… Mmm-hmm. Those eyes. That voice. That smile.” Cassie clasped her hands over her heart. “Just to hear him say, `Nice to meet you, Miss Berk,’ was enough to turn me inside out.”
“Fine.” Dawn folded her arms. “You go out with him.”
“Well, I would, except I think he’d notice that I wasn’t you.” Cassie jerked her chin toward the mirror. “You look terrific, by the way.”
“I feel dumb. Jeans and heels? It isn’t me.”
