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For a moment Suzy didn’t say anything. Then she smiled and made a U-turn. “I love challenges. There’s an outlet mall about thirty miles from here. This is going to be fun.”
For the next three hours, Suzy performed like a drill sergeant, leading her from one discount store to another, where she searched out bargains like a bloodhound. She paid no attention to Gracie’s own preferences and, instead, dressed her in the sort of youthful, provocative clothes Gracie would never have dared choose for herself. Suzy selected a gauzy skirt and silky jewel-toned blouse, a watermelon pink tank dress that fell open from mid-thigh to calf, stonewashed jeans with stretchy ribbed knit tops, scandalously short skirts, cotton sweaters that clung to her breasts. Gracie tried on belts and necklaces, sandals and flats, Keds with rhinestones and free-form silver earrings. By the time the last of the garments was packed away in the trunk of the Lexus Gracie had wiped out a huge chunk of her savings. She felt dazed and more than a little nervous.
“Are you sure?” She glanced down at the hot red romper that had been their final purchase. Its off-the-shoulder bodice clung so tightly to her skin that she couldn’t wear a bra, and the knit fabric sparkled with gold-tone studs. A two-inch gold metallic belt separated the clingy bodice from the looser-fitting shorts, and her sensible espadrilles had been replaced by a pair of strappy little lipstick red sandals. The outfit made her feel as if she were pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
For what seemed to be the hundredth time that afternoon, Suzy reassured her. “It’s darling on you.”
Gracie fought to control her panic. Homely women didn’t wear “darling” clothes. She seized on what she saw as a valid excuse to explain her continued hesitation.
“These sandals don’t supply very much arch support.”
“Do you have trouble with your arches?”
“No. But maybe that’s because I’ve always worn sensible shoes.”
Suzy smiled and patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Gracie. You look wonderful.”
“I don’t look like myself.”
“I think you look exactly like yourself. And I say it’s about time.”
Who the hell was driving his T-bird? And driving it too damned fast! Bob
by Tom spotted the rooster tail of dust from half a mile away and grabbed his script from the top of the corral post where he’d propped it to study the scene they were shooting that afternoon.
The T-bird turned off the road, still kicking up dust, and pulled to a squealing stop next to his trailer. As he squinted against the glare of the setting sun, he saw a hot little number dressed in red step out of the car, and his blood pressure soared. Dammit! Gracie was the only person who had permission to drive his T-bird. He’d asked her to pick it up from Buddy’s Garage after she’d finished with her shopping, but she’d obviously decided to teach him another one of her lessons by cajoling some predatory female into doing the job.
He set his jaw and stalked forward, still squinting from the sun as he tried to make out who it was, but he couldn’t see much more than a nice little body, short sexy hair, and a face partially hidden by small round sunglasses. He swore to himself that he was going to have Gracie’s hide for this. She knew better than anyone that their phony engagement was supposed to protect him from just this sort of thing.
And then he froze in his tracks as the sun picked out familiar coppery lights in that flyaway hair. His gaze slithered down over the nicely proportioned body and slender legs to a neat pair of ankles he would have recognized anywhere, and he felt as if he’d been poleaxed. At the same time, he called himself ten kinds of a fool. He was the one who had arranged for Gracie’s make-over. Why hadn’t he been better prepared for the results?
Gracie watched apprehensively as he approached. She knew enough about the way Bobby Tom behaved with women by now to predict exactly what he was going to say. He would flatter her outrageously, probably tell her she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen in his life, and under his barrage of preposterous compliments, she’d have no idea what he really thought about the changes in her appearance. If only he’d be honest with her so she could know whether or not she looked ridiculous.
He stopped in front of her. Several seconds ticked by as she waited for that lady-killer grin to take over his face and the blarney to start flowing. He rubbed his chin with the back of his knuckles.
“Looks like Buddy did a good job. Did he give you a receipt?”
Stunned, she watched him walk right past her, glance at the headlight Buddy had replaced, and crouch to examine the new tires. Her pleasure in the moment faded, and she felt deflated. “It’s in the glove compartment.”
He stood back up and glared at her. “Why the hell were you driving so fast?”
Because the pretty lady with the reckless hair and frivolous little sandals without any arch support is a free spirit who doesn’t worry about mundane things like speed limits.
“I guess I had other things on my mind.” When was he going to tell her she was the prettiest little thing he’d ever seen in his life, just like he told every other female?
His mouth tightened in annoyance. “I’ve been planning on letting you use the T-bird to get around while we’re here, but-I’m seriously thinking about changing my mind after what I just saw. You were driving this car like it’s some old junker.”
“I apologize.” She gritted her teeth as anger overcame her hurt. She had spent a fortune today, and he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’d appreciate it very much if you didn’t let it happen again.”
She straightened her shoulders and stuck her chin up in the air, determined not to let him bully her. She knew she looked pretty, maybe for the first time in her life, and if he didn’t think so, that was just too bad. “It won’t happen again. Now if you’re finished yelling at me, I told Natalie I’d watch Elvis for her this afternoon.”
“You’re supposed to be my assistant, not a baby-sitter!”
“One and the same.” She stalked away.
11
