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She opened her eyes to stare up into the rich depths of his.
“Any questions?” he asked.
“None whatsoever.”
“Good. I’m glad we got that settled. Now drink your coffee. Breakfast should be here at any time. I got a call from Went. The bookstore and your loft are secure. As soon as we’ve eaten, we can head out.”
“Slade? Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“I don’t get to Bangor very often. There’s a small boutique that deals with handmade clothing. She always has the most gorgeous sweaters. I’d like to stop in and see if she has anything.”
“On one condition: I get approval of what you’re buying.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. If you’re going to buy another shapeless garment that hides all that lush beauty, you can drive back and do it yourself.”
She was saved from making a snarky retort by the knock on the door.
Slade pointed to the bedroom. “Back inside. Same rules as last night.”
She complied and heard room service setting up in the other room. “All clear,” he called.
“That looks and smells delicious,” she said. “I think we should share.”
“Fine by me.” Once again, he stood, holding a chair for her.
They ate their breakfast and then headed to the Blue Lagoon Boutique, which specialized in local artisan clothing. It was one of Fiona’s favorite shops, but she rarely bought anything because she felt exposed and ‘seen’ in the things she tried on.
Once inside she was immediately drawn to a moss green sweater with a large shawl collar and deep V-neck. It was knitted out of soft, silky alpaca wool. When she walked out of the dressing room, Slade’s eyes lit up. But when she turned to look at herself in the mirror she wanted to run and hide. It didn’t look bad, but it also left little to the imagination. It was long enough to cover her ass, hitting about mid-thigh, but it clung in all the right spots.
She went back into the dressing room and tried on several other things that weren’t as slouchy as her usual style but not nearly as daring as the moss green one. She came out with the two sweaters she meant to purchase.
“What about the green one?” Slade asked.
“Oh no, I don’t think I would feel comfortable wearing it outside of my loft.”
“Why?”
“It was far too revealing. I mean it wasn’t tight, and the feel of it was marvelous, but it was just the way it showed off some things the world doesn’t need to see.”
Slade came up out of the chair gracefully, walked past her to the dressing room and picked up the green sweater, handing it to the clerk along with his credit card.
“I said I wouldn’t be comfortable wearing it outside of my loft,” she said, paying for her own purchases.
He tucked the gorgeous sweater into her bag. “Fine. Then just wear it, and nothing else, just for me.”
He thanked the clerk and steered Fiona toward the door. When she balked, his hand glided down her back and urged her forward.
When he’d seated her in the car, put her purchases in the back and slipped into the driver’s seat, she said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to, and unless you have strenuous objections, how about just accepting my gift?”
“You really liked it?” she asked.
“Yes. I could easily imagine you in your loft or my A-frame with nothing else on—just you, me, and that green sweater. Although I doubt it would stay on for long.”
