The Dating Dare (Gambling Men Book 2)

Home > Romance > The Dating Dare (Gambling Men Book 2) > Page 6
The Dating Dare (Gambling Men Book 2) Page 6

by Barbara Dunlop


  I was wearing black slacks, a green pullover and a pair of comfortable black flats.

  James was dressed in a blue-and-white-striped dress shirt over dark gray slacks.

  The store clerk didn’t seem impressed by us.

  “May I help you, sir?” he asked James.

  The expression on the man’s face said he thought we’d wandered into the wrong store.

  “I hope so,” James said. “I’d like to look at a tux.”

  “Bold start,” I muttered under my breath.

  James gave me a little shove with his arm.

  I took it to mean I wasn’t being serious enough.

  “A tux?” the clerk echoed. He still seemed skeptical.

  “A tux,” James said with conviction.

  “Then, right this way, sir.” The man turned to lead us farther into the store.

  “This is making me nervous,” I said to James in a low tone.

  Like the clerk, I couldn’t shake the feeling we didn’t belong here. At least, I didn’t belong here. I shouldn’t speak for James.

  It was possible that he shopped at stores like this all the time.

  I doubted it—based on what I’d seen of his wardrobe. But I didn’t know for sure.

  “You need to roll with it,” James whispered to me.

  “It’s your credit card,” I said back.

  “You think you’re getting away unscathed?” he asked, amusement coming into his tone.

  “I—”

  “They have a ladies’ section.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t afford a place like this.”

  “Think of it as an investment.”

  “An investment in what?” It wasn’t like used clothing appreciated over time.

  Vintage dresses in some cases, sure. But I’d have to be royalty or a movie star to have a realistic expectation of that happening.

  I was neither.

  I was very far from being either.

  “In your future,” James said.

  We stepped onto an escalator.

  “I don’t need this much of an image upgrade,” I said.

  I thought about the balance in my savings account. I had some money, not a ton, but I’d rather spend it on a new car or a vacation. I knew I wouldn’t get the same level of enjoyment out of new clothes.

  “Go big or go home,” James said.

  “In that case, I might have to go home.”

  He frowned at me. “You bailing on me already, Nat?”

  I felt bad about that. “I wasn’t...” I tried to frame my thoughts. “I didn’t mean it literally. I just didn’t expect to drain my savings account on day one.”

  He seemed to think about that.

  We stepped off the escalator and found ourselves in the men’s clothing section.

  “I’ll buy you something,” he said.

  “Oh, no you won’t.” That wasn’t where I’d been going at all.

  I was trying to be realistic. I could change styles, but I couldn’t drastically change price ranges like this.

  “I didn’t think about the cost,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not floating in money. But my salary’s got to be higher than yours, plus I get bonuses.”

  “There’s no way you’re buying me clothes,” I said. “We’ll find another way. We’ll go to an outlet mall or something. If you do it right, you can get bargains on good stuff.”

  “You have to know what you’re doing,” James said.

  When I didn’t say anything back, he kept talking. “Face it, Nat, we don’t know what we’re doing.”

  I couldn’t disagree with him on that. We each had zero clues about what we were doing. And zero plus zero was still zero.

  “One outfit,” he said.

  I shook my head but he pretended not to see it.

  “One outfit,” he repeated. “Something we can take on a test-drive to decide if it’s worth the investment.”

  The clerk stopped and turned to face us, looking rather bored. “In this section we have Remaldi. To the left is Dan Goldenberg. And over there is Mende and Saturday Sweet. Do you have a preference for a designer?”

  “I wasn’t thinking off-the-rack,” James said.

  He sounded so posh that I felt a burst of pride.

  The clerk’s expression faltered, and he seemed to reevaluate the situation.

  At least, it seemed to me that he was reevaluating the situation.

  If I was him, I’d be reevaluating the situation.

  He’d written James off.

  That was a mistake.

  Okay, this was kind of fun.

  “Of course, sir.” The man’s tone had changed. His shoulders squared, and his expression became more welcoming.

  I was right.

  I could tell by the amused twinkle in James’s eyes that he saw it, too.

  “Right this way,” the clerk said. “I’ll show you to our tailor. I’m Charles, by the way. Is your purchase for a specific event?”

  “My firm has a number of formal and charitable events coming up this fall,” James said as we fell into step with Charles.

  It was my turn to elbow him.

  He was getting a little carried away.

  He looked down at me. “What?” he mouthed.

  I shook my head and gave him a censorious look.

  He just grinned.

  * * *

  The lack of price tags was making me nervous.

  I was on my fifth, or maybe it was my sixth dress.

  They were all pretty. Some of them fit better than others, but nothing I’d tried on so far was butt ugly.

  I realized now as I stared into the mirror just how much I normally factored price into my buying decisions.

  “Let’s see it,” James called to me from outside the fitting room.

  We were separated by a heavy blue velvet curtain that hung in a semicircle from big wooden rings.

  I stood on a soft carpet in a cubicle with a three-way mirror, a padded chair, and a set of six hooks along the curved wall.

  A salesclerk named Naomi had picked out a dozen dresses for me to try.

  I hadn’t been allowed to pick my own. Oh, no. James insisted we couldn’t trust my taste.

  He reminded me that I got to pick out his new SUV. It was his turn to choose something for me.

  We’d let Charles run wild with the tux.

  Once Charles realized James was a serious customer, his enthusiasm level had risen to impressive heights. Along with the tailor, they’d measured every inch of James, consulted me on fabrics and cuts and accessories, until they finally seemed satisfied with the order.

  James had remained stoic throughout the process.

  I knew he’d spent a fortune. But he’d assured me he could afford it, and he insisted it was my turn next.

  I told myself to forget about the prices. For once in my life, I was going to indulge without guilt.

  I drew back the curtain.

  James stood nearby. Naomi had offered him a chair and a drink, but he’d refused both.

  “Well?” I asked, trying to gauge his expression.

  “It’s better than the last one.”

  “I liked the last one.”

  It had been black with a pretty lace bodice, a V-neck and an A-line skirt that draped to midcalf. You could dress it up or dress it down. It would be very versatile.

  “That one was too librarian.” There was a glint of humor in James’s eyes.

  “Ha ha,” I said, grimacing in his direction.

  “This one has more drama,” Naomi said.

  “You have to match my tux,” James said.

  “Match your tux?” I asked.

  “For the test-drive.”

  “Your tux is coming with me?”


  I don’t know what I’d expected in a test-drive. But it wasn’t a date with James.

  But now I was thinking about a date with James.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about a date with James—tall, striking, handsome James, with the new shoulder set in his custom-fit tux, and his great new SUV.

  The image was sexy.

  He was sexy.

  I found my gaze stuck on his sexiness.

  It was more potent than I’d ever imagined.

  How had I missed that?

  “And me in the tux,” he said, his deep tone only reinforcing my attraction to him.

  Uh-oh. I was attracted to James. This was not good.

  “Turn,” he said to me.

  I was happy to do it. It hid my expression. I didn’t want him to figure out what I was thinking.

  I couldn’t be attracted to James.

  James was Brooklyn’s. Or at least, he used to be Brooklyn’s. From the time we were teenagers, he had dated one of my best friends. And now we were buddies, pals, wing-persons for each other.

  I didn’t dare let attraction into the mix.

  “That’s nice,” he said from behind me. “I like the crisscross, very sexy.”

  I felt my skin heat in reaction to his words.

  He thought I was sexy.

  No, no, no, a little voice said inside my head.

  He thought the dress was sexy. It was the dress, not me.

  It was shimmering green, with a scooped neckline and spaghetti straps that melded into a crisscross pattern over my bare back. It was fitted over my hips, the ankle-length skirt gently flaring out at my thighs. The fabric was light, and I liked the way it moved when I walked.

  “Does it come in purple?” James asked.

  I turned back to him. “Purple? Really?”

  I wouldn’t say I was a purple kind of person. I felt exotic enough going with the emerald green. I was already out of my comfort zone.

  “A dark plum or maybe boysenberry,” he said.

  I stared at him in silence for a moment.

  “We can have one made through our supplier,” Naomi said. “It’ll only take a couple of days.”

  “Boysenberry?” I asked. “That’s a very specific color.”

  “I read,” he said. “I learn from all those blogs. And boysenberry will look good with your eyes.”

  I got a little shiver, maybe a little thrill at the idea that James had been studying my eyes.

  I was staring into his right now.

  I was staring deeply into his. They were dark deep midnight blue, and they were making me warm all over.

  “It’ll bring out the highlights in her hair, too,” Naomi said.

  “I don’t have highlights in my hair.” All I really did with my hair was grow it.

  “But you do,” she said. “It’s chestnut and gold and copper. You have great hair.”

  “Really?” I pulled the ends of my hair in front of my eyes.

  “You have really great hair,” Naomi said. “You should think about doing some layers around your face. Do you put it up?”

  “Not really.” I didn’t think the looped ponytail I used during yoga class would count.

  “Don’t get rid of the length at the back,” Naomi said, scrutinizing me as she talked. “You can do pretty much anything you want with it now. But soften it around your face a bit. It’ll look awesome.”

  I’d never thought much about my hair, my plain brown straight hair. I’d never imagined someone would call it awesome.

  “You could stand to lighten it a bit,” James said.

  I turned my attention back to him. “You don’t like my hair.”

  “I like it a lot,” he said. “But I thought you wanted something different.”

  He was right. I did.

  “Go with something semipermanent,” Naomi said. “That way you’ll keep all the complexity and natural highlights. Just lighten it a shade or two.”

  “How do you know so much about hair?” I asked her.

  “My sister’s a hairdresser. Do you have contact lenses?”

  I shook my head. I’d tried contacts once, but my eyes couldn’t seem to get used to them. It hadn’t seemed worth it at the time.

  “Too bad,” Naomi said. She leaned a little closer to me so James wouldn’t hear. “You might want to think about getting some.” She canted her head in James’s direction. “He likes your eyes.”

  I opened my mouth to explain the situation, but James jumped in.

  “We should probably get your sister’s name,” he said to Naomi.

  * * *

  Sophie swung open her apartment door and froze.

  Her eyes went wide as she stared at me. “What did you do?”

  “You don’t like it?” I was feeling incredibly self-conscious about my new hair and really weird about my contacts.

  I got the haircut just this afternoon. Nobody but me and Naomi’s sister had seen it so far. I’d been practicing with the contacts for three days now, but I still felt like I was blinking way too often. And I was fighting a constant urge to rub my eyes.

  “Are you kidding?” Sophie asked. “I love the new you!”

  She pulled me into a hug and she whispered in my ear. “Ethan’s going to love it, too. Great move, Nat.”

  “Ethan?” I asked.

  I didn’t think I’d given Ethan a single thought since the end of our second “date,” where he seemed about as interested in me as I was in him.

  “Nice to see you again, Nat.” It was Bryce’s voice.

  “Bryce is here?” I asked, pulling from Sophie’s hug.

  This was supposed to be girls’ pizza night at Sophie’s apartment.

  “Surprise,” Sophie said. “I knew it would be more fun with all four of us.”

  “All four?” Then I spotted Ethan.

  He was sitting on one end of Sophie’s cream-colored sofa.

  Bryce had stood up from the love seat and was looking at me.

  “Hi, Bryce,” I said. “Hi, Ethan.” I smiled to cover my disappointment.

  I liked Bryce quite a lot. And Ethan was okay, too. But it was a strain to carry on a conversation with them. And I really wasn’t excited about another deep dive into the ongoing adventures of BRT Innovations.

  I loved Sophie, I truly did. But hanging out for hours on end with three people who were working on the same all-encompassing project grew tiring.

  I wanted to talk to Sophie, just Sophie. I had a lot going on in my life, too.

  Not that I would tell her the reasons behind my makeover, or my deal with James, or my weird feelings about James. Still, I wanted girl talk, generic talk about men and relationships, maybe clothes and jewelry. I didn’t know.

  I did know that 3-D printed desserts wasn’t where my head was at tonight.

  I dropped my bag on her entry table and headed for the sofa. I would have kicked off my shoes, but everyone else still wore theirs.

  I gave an inward sigh as I sat down.

  Sophie and I had planned on making mango margaritas tonight, our secret recipe. I supposed that was off, too.

  Bryce took his seat again.

  “A Hawaiian and a pepperoni?” Sophie asked all three of us.

  “Sounds good,” Bryce said.

  “I prefer vegetarian if nobody minds,” Ethan said.

  “I’m easy.” The last thing I was worried about was the pizza toppings.

  Sophie took out her phone. “Don’t you love Nat’s hair?” she asked as she pulled up the number.

  Ethan looked at me, taking in my hair.

  I resisted the urge to fluff it or toss my head. The actions seemed appropriate, but too lighthearted for the expression on his face.

  “You changed it?” he asked.

  “
I like it,” Bryce said.

  “It’s lighter,” I said to Ethan. “Thanks,” I said to Bryce.

  “She cut it, too,” Sophie said. “Where did you have it done?” Then she got distracted by something on her screen.

  Bryce rose and pulled his wallet from his back pocket, extracting a credit card and handing it to Sophie.

  I had to admit, it struck me as gentlemanly.

  It reminded me of James and how we’d argued but he’d insisted on buying a pair of shoes to go with my dress.

  The upshot was that I never did find out the prices. I probably never would.

  “I don’t know why women insist on doing that to their hair,” Ethan said to no one in particular. “Ammonia, peroxide, p-phenylenediamine, diaminobenzene, toluene-2, 5-diamine, resorcinol. It’s not exactly a healthy brew.”

  “Beauty,” Sophie said without looking up.

  Now I felt like my hair might just blanket the entire Pacific Northwest in a fog of noxious gas.

  “If nobody did it,” Ethan countered, “if you all went natural, all with the lowest common denominator, then nobody would have to put toxic chemicals on their head.”

  “I’ll tweet that out,” Sophie said. “Likely nobody’s ever thought about it.”

  She made me smile.

  “Did you hear back from North Capital?” Bryce asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Ethan said.

  “It’s after five. I thought the committee was deciding today.”

  “That was the schedule,” Ethan said.

  “That’s not good,” Bryce said.

  I was curious, but I wasn’t about to ask a naive question about their business, not after my experiences the last couple of times I’d tried.

  “It’s just one fund,” Sophie said. “We shouldn’t let it discourage us.”

  “If we don’t get the investment ball rolling soon...” Bryce shook his head.

  A light went on inside mine. North Capital was an investment firm. Ethan had said they were looking for investors into BRT Innovations.

  There, I had it.

  I felt better.

  Wait. No. It didn’t sound like it was good news.

  “Maybe we’ll hear tomorrow,” Sophie said, obviously trying to be upbeat. “They would have been meeting all afternoon, right? They could have finished after business hours.”

  “I suppose,” Bryce said. He paused. “You’re right. Worrying is premature.”

 

‹ Prev