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Faith flicked past another few dresses. ‘I told you, I’m not sure. I’ll know it when I see it.’
‘Utterly unhelpful.’ Flinging herself into a cream leather armchair outside the fitting rooms, Sylvia pulled out a small pink suede notepad and a sparkly pen. ‘Come on. Let’s figure this out. First question: cocktail or ballgown?’
‘Cocktail, definitely. No one wears floor-length to the theatre any more, do they?’
Sylvia shrugged her slim shoulders and made a note on the pad. ‘Not anyone your age, anyway. Okay, black or colour?’
‘Colour,’ Faith replied. ‘I’m sick to death of black after a week in that one dress.’
‘Plain or decorated?’
‘Plain. It’ll go with more accessories that way.’ If she was getting to buy a dress on Dominic’s card, it might as well be something she could wear again and again.
She turned her attention back to the rack and was only half paying attention when Sylvia spoke again.
‘Okay, most important question, then—how do you want my brother to look when he sees you in it?’
‘Awed,’ she said without thinking, then smacked a hand over her mouth. ‘I didn’t say that,’ she muttered through her fingers.
Sylvia gave a gleeful grin. ‘Oh, you did. You most certainly did.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t have.’ Faith studied the dresses again with unwarranted attention, since they were all exactly what she didn’t want, but did at least distract from the way her cheeks were burning. ‘He’s my boss.’
‘Only for a few more days,’ Sylvia pointed out.
‘At which point I’ll be leaving. Hardly a winning argument.’
‘You could stay,’ Sylvia suggested. ‘Maybe Dominic could offer you a permanent job.’
‘At which point he’d be my boss again.’ Faith shook her head. ‘Besides, he already did. I think he’s much more interested in keeping me as an employee than anything else.’
‘Given the way he was staring at you yesterday, I’d take that as a compliment,’ Sylvia said, her tone dry. ‘You must be incredibly good at your job.’
‘I am.’ Faith pushed the dresses back along the rail. ‘Which is why we’re going to try the next shop in the hope of finding a perfectly work appropriate dress for tonight, so I can go out and do what I’m being paid for. Nothing more, nothing less.’
‘Are you sure?’ Sylvia asked, holding the shop door open for her. ‘Because I have to tell you, Dominic never looked at Kat that way.’
Something froze inside her, and Faith was awfully afraid it might be her heart. Like it had been shocked into stillness by the idea that Dominic wanted her more than she’d ever dared to imagine.
He’d almost kissed her the night before; she’d seen it in his face. She still wasn’t sure what had stopped him, although she could list a dozen perfectly reasonable options off the top of her head. Probably it was Jerry, she’d decided. Dominic would never try anything so soon after she’d had to fend off the attentions of another man. It wouldn’t be Proper.
And Dominic was all about Proper.
Which was exactly why she couldn’t let herself have him. She had given up any chance of a place in Dominic’s world when she ran away, and that was a decision she had to stick by.
Besides, if they started something, anything real, the truth would come out. It always did. And she couldn’t bear the thought of the disgust and disappointment on Dominic’s face when he found out.
She ignored the small part of her brain that said she only had a few more days. Maybe she could have that, at least. Surely she could keep her secret that long...
It all came down to one simple fact. If Dominic knew who she really was, what she’d done, he wouldn’t want her. And on the infinitesimally small off chance he did, if she wanted a real chance with Dominic, she’d never get to be Faith Fowler again.
Lose-lose.
Kind of like the shopping expedition so far.
She sighed as Sylvia dragged her into the next boutique, another tiny, expensive shop filled with incredible dresses Faith’s mother would have loved.
‘Do you really think we’re going to find anything in here?’ she asked.
‘We won’t know until we look,’ Sylvia replied, already scouring through the individual dress hangers on the walls to find the perfect outfit.
Faith was pretty sure that not one of the dresses Sylvia was looking at would fit over her not exactly model-shaped frame. The women these dresses were intended for didn’t have curves. She couldn’t even swear they had hips, looking at the narrow cuts.
