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‘Oh, look—’
‘Dallas, we’re all professionals. You have to try on the foundation for the wedding dress. It will certainly need a few adjustments.’
She’d already been felt up by a stylist, Eve decided. Why not stand naked in a roomful of people? She shrugged out of the robe.
Leonardo came at her with something white and sleek. Before she could do much more than squeak, he had it around her torso and snugged at her back. His big hands reached under the material, fussily adjusted her breasts. Bending down, he drew a swatch of material between her legs, secured it, stepped back.
‘Ah.’
‘Holy hell, Dallas. Roarke’s tongue’s going to land on his feet when he gets you down to that.’
‘What the hell is it?’
‘A variation on the old Merry Widow.’ With quick nips and tucks, Leonardo perfected the fit. ‘I call it a Curvaceous. Added a bit of lift under the breasts for you. Yours are quite nice, but this line adds more contour. Just a touch of lace, a few pearls. Nothing too ornate.’ He turned her to face the mirror.
She looked sexy, curvy. Ripe, Eve realized with some amazement. The material had a faint gleam to it, as though it was damp. It nipped at her waist, molded her hips, and,
she had to admit, lifted her bustline to new, fascinating heights.
‘Well . . . I guess . . . for, you know, wedding nights.’
‘For any nights,’ Mavis said dreamily. ‘Oh, Leonardo. Are you going to make me one?’
‘I already have, in Rascal Red satin. Now, Dallas, does it pinch anywhere? Rub?’
‘No.’ She couldn’t get over it. It should have been torturous, but it was as comfortable as a sprint suit. Experimentally she bent, twisted. ‘It’s just sort of there.’
‘Excellent. Biff found the material at a little cottage shop on Richer Five. Now the dress. It’s only basted, so we take care. Lift your arms, please.’
He slipped it over her, let it float down. The material was stunning. Eve could see that, even when it was streaked with tailor’s marks. It seemed perfect to her, the sleek column, the snug sleeves, the simple line, but Leonardo creased his brow and tugged at the material, folded, bunched.
‘The neckline works, yes. Where is the necklace?’
‘Huh?’
‘The copper and stone necklace. Didn’t I tell you to ask for it?’
‘I can’t just tell Roarke I want a necklace.’
Leonardo sighed, turned Eve around, and exchanged a look with Mavis. He nodded, then tested the line at Eve’s hips.
‘You’ve lost weight,’ he accused.
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Yes, at least two pounds.’ He clucked his tongue. ‘I won’t take it in yet. See that you put them back on.’
Biff marched over and held a bolt of material next to her face. With a nod, he marched away, muttering into his notebook.
‘Biff, would you show her the other designs while I note the adjustments to the gown?’
With a flourish, Biff switched on a wall monitor. ‘As you can see, Leonardo has taken both your lifestyle and your body line into consideration with these designs. This simple day suit is perfect for a corporate lunch, a press conference, unrestricted, yet tres, tres chic. The material we’re using is a blended linen with just a whisper of silk. The color is citrine with trim of garnet.’
‘Uh-huh.’ It looked like a nice, simple suit to Eve, but it was a jolt to see the computer-generated image of herself modeling it. ‘Biff?’
‘Yes, Lieutenant?’
‘Why do you have a map tattooed on your head?’
