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‘Surely tonight it doesn’t matter? After all I am your subject and I know you’re observing me already, so please don’t hold back on my account.’
Perhaps his motivation
was selfish—he knew she would look incredible in the dress and he wanted to see her in it.
‘I would still prefer to be less visible rather than more. This event will be star-studded—I’d like to observe the guests without being noticed.’
Gabrielle waved away the objection. ‘At an event like this one you will stand out if you do not wear something like this. There will be nothing that will mark you out more clearly as an observer than wearing a dull black dress that conceals your assets rather than showcasing them.’
Her gaze swept again over April’s current outfit of jeans, T-shirt and blazer, and although she was way too professional to shudder, Marcus felt it was a close-run thing.
It was clear that Gabrielle’s argument had temporarily stymied April, and Marcus settled back on the small spindle-legged chair to observe the action.
Gabrielle continued with enthusiasm. ‘Take this opportunity. Tonight you will be noticed no matter what; you will arrive on the arm of Marcus Alrikson, and no matter what capacity that is in people will be looking at you. So...this dress...it is a necessity.’
April paled, and now there could be no mistake—for some reason Gabrielle’s words had left her stricken, and without thought Marcus rose to his feet, his amusement routed by concern and an instinct to protect her. For some unfathomable reason the idea of wearing this dress clearly had April in a state...
‘We appreciate all the help. But I think it would be best if you could find April a simple black dress, or whatever it is April wants. After all Sunita always tells me it is important that a person feels comfortable in her skin as well as in her dress.’
The mention of Sunita did the trick. ‘Of course.’ Gabrielle hesitated, then turned to April. ‘I apologise if I overstepped—but you are a beautiful woman and it is my instinct to want to show that to the world.’
April managed a smile. ‘Thank you. That is a generous thing to say—and please don’t feel you’ve overstepped. I am just not very good with clothes.’
Once Gabrielle had left she turned to Marcus.
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’ He gestured towards the dresses. ‘If you don’t like them then you don’t like them. That’s your prerogative. You should wear whatever you want to wear.’
‘And it doesn’t bother you?’
Her question held an element of timidity that seemed totally out of character.
‘No. Why should it?’
‘Because... Well, it’s occurred to me that Gabrielle is right. All eyes are going to be on us. You never take a plus-one to events like this, and you don’t ever give interviews.’
He shrugged. ‘I have no problem with people looking at us.’
‘And you have no problem with me wearing whatever I choose to wear?’
‘No.’ He had absolutely zip idea where she was going with this.
For a long moment she studied his expression, and a small sweet smile tipped her lips. ‘You mean that, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do.’ Marcus frowned. ‘Are you worried about what I choose to wear?’
‘Of course not. You can come in your pyjamas for all I care—’ She broke off, a ludicrous look of dismay on her face. ‘If you had any, I mean...though... I mean... Well...obviously I’d prefer you to be wearing something.’ Suddenly she giggled. ‘Though if you weren’t I guess at least no one would be looking at me. Whatever I wear.’
Her laughter was clear, melodious and infectious, and he couldn’t help but join in. Then somehow the whole conversation, her sheer beauty, and their shared laughter prompted a change in the atmosphere and their mirth subsided.
They stared at each other and then he stepped forward, reducing the gap between them. She followed suit. Now they were so close he could count the smattering of faint freckles on the bridge of her nose.
‘April...?’
But before she could answer there was a knock on the door. April jumped backwards and turned away from him as Gabrielle re-entered.
She looked from one to the other but said nothing. ‘I have found this,’ she announced, holding up a long black dress, her nose slightly wrinkled in disapproval.
