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Jessie bristled defensively. ‘I didn’t say I was scared,’ she said fiercely. ‘A bunch of posh clothes don’t worry me.’ But she was saying it to convince herself as much as him, and perhaps he realised that because his eyes narrowed.
&
nbsp; ‘I understood that choosing a new wardrobe was most women’s idea of paradise.’
‘The women you mix with, maybe.’
Women who were nothing like her.
She tried to imagine what it must be like to have nothing more serious to worry about than what you were going to wear.
‘Maybe I haven’t got used to the idea that I can actually have any of this stuff.’ She shrugged awkwardly, reluctant to reveal how inadequate the whole thing made her feel, or how intimidating she found the groomed perfection of the models. ‘Maybe it’s just seeing it modelled.’
‘That seemed to be the best way for you to see the clothes.’ He stretched out his legs and Jessie wished she could be even a fraction as relaxed as he was.
‘I can see how the clothes look on them, but not on me.’ Couldn’t he see the difference? ‘We’re not the same shape, for a start.’
‘So what do you want?’
Her face scarlet, Jessie gnawed her lip, wishing she could just melt into the sofa and disappear. ‘I don’t know. Can I just try them on myself—with no one watching?’
‘No, because I don’t want any repeats of the gold dress. But I’ll agree on a compromise. You can model them for me. I’ll decide.’ He gestured to the woman masterminding the fashion show and moments later the room was empty and they were alone. ‘The clothes are all on rails behind the curtains. Help yourself. If anything doesn’t fit, let me know and they’ll bring a different size.’
Her face burning from his derogatory comments about her gold dress, Jessie looked at the expensive cut of his trousers and decided that being hard up was probably nothing more than a distant memory for him.
‘What’s it like,’ she blurted out, ‘to be able to buy anything you want without thinking about how much it costs? Does it feel weird?’
‘You tell me,’ he drawled softly, and Jessie realised with a flash of disbelief that he was giving her free rein to buy anything she wanted.
For a moment she didn’t move, waiting for him to laugh and name a budget she had to work within, but his attention was back on his BlackBerry, his long fingers flying over the keys as he dealt with another email.
‘Right—I’ll just try something on…’ Relieved that he didn’t appear to be paying attention, Jessie stepped onto the stage, wincing as her cheap trainers squeaked.
Suddenly realising how ridiculous she must look, she giggled and turned to face him. ‘And here we have Jessie, modelling this season’s latest just-pulled-through-a-hedge look—’ she pushed her hand into her hair and pouted dramatically ‘—in last season’s jeans and jumper…’ Her eyes met his and his gaze was thoughtful.
‘It’s good to see you laughing again.’
Laughing?
Oh, God, she was laughing—for the first time in as long as she could remember. And with him.
What was the matter with her?
Buying these clothes was a life-saving necessity, not a frivolous spending spree. She was doing this because she had to, not because she wanted to.
She wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself.
Jessie’s smile faded and she backed towards the curtain. ‘I—I’ll go and try on the rest of those clothes.’ Horrified with herself, she took refuge behind the curtains, her mouth dry and her heart pounding.
This was what happened when you were forced to accept help from your enemy. When the person you hated became your protector, you were in bigger trouble than ever before.
Jessie looked at the rails of clothes.
She didn’t want to take anything from him but she needed clothes so that she could do the wretched job he was offering her. She couldn’t sing for Mr and Mrs Celebrity couple without looking the part.
His words stuck in her head. I don’t want any repeats of the gold dress.
He thought she had no fashion sense.
