He waited until she was handing him his briefcase on the tarmac before shifting to the personal again.
“I’d like to take you out for dinner tonight. Someplace nice.”
“Oh. Okay.” She frowned. “That sounds lovely.”
“You don’t want to go out for dinner?” he asked, trying to interpret the frown.
“No. I’m just going to have to get creative with my wardrobe. Or do a little shopping. Which, to be fair, is probably well overdue.”
“Take the afternoon off. I’ve stolen enough of your evenings making you pull overnighters. Check out the city.”
“I might just do that. Or at least finish an hour or so early. I’m not that big on shopping, but if I go in on a search and destroy mission with a specific goal in mind, I’m good.”
“Do I get a vote on what the goal of this mission might be?” he asked.
She tilted her head. “Are you about to make a special request?”
“Not necessarily. But I feel honor bound to point out that you have amazing legs,” he said.
She laughed, her eyes very green. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Is seven okay?” he said.
“Seven is perfect,” she said.
He took a step backward. “I’ll be thinking about you.”
“I’ll be thinking about you too.”
He smiled and shook his head at the look in her eyes, and then he turned and strode toward the car. Given a choice, he’d choose to stay at the airport and flirt with Sierra all day over the many meetings he had today.
Pulling on his seat belt, he started the car and reversed out of the parking bay. Then he drove off to do what he had to do.
*
Sierra hadn’t been shopping in months but she knew the moment she entered the small Macy’s store in downtown Helena that they were not going to have the sort of dress she was looking for. Sure enough, a quick tour of the compact womenswear section confirmed her suspicion. She chewed on her bottom lip for a second, then inspiration struck and she pulled out her phone.
She found Mae Barringer’s number in her address book and sent her a quick text asking for her best suggestion for shopping for a cocktail dress. She figured anyone who owned a pair of Louboutins must know where to shop in Helena. Two seconds later, her phone lit up with a call from Mae.
“Sorry, I had to call. My texting skills aren’t up to this conversation,” Mae said.
“As long as I’m not interrupting anything.”
“The numbers will wait, trust me. What sort of occasion are we talking here?”
“Dinner at a nice restaurant.” Sierra hesitated. “I’m thinking something fun. Maybe even something a bit sexy?”
Tonight would be the first time she and Garret ventured out as a couple, the first night that wasn’t about seeking refuge from the stress of what was happening with his family business or wrestling with their doubts about the wisdom of giving in to what they both wanted.
Tonight was just about enjoying each other, and Sierra was determined to do her bit to make that happen because she understood Garret needed a safe place in his life right now. An oasis where he could stop and draw breath and recharge before returning to the field of battle.
“I’m going to text you the address of the best boutique in Helena,” Mae said with absolute authority. “The owner, Chloe, is a friend of mine, and she will hook you up. Trust her. She knows bodies; she knows fabrics; she just knows.”
“Okay. Happy to put myself in anyone’s hands, really. Shopping is the devil’s work, and anything that makes it easier can only be a good thing.”
“Hush your mouth, Sierra,” Mae admonished. “Shopping is a sacred and mysterious art.”
“Not when I do it. Thanks for lending me your expertise. I owe you.”
“Anytime. And I mean that. I’m a little slammed at the moment, but when I can see some daylight, let’s catch up for lunch like we said.”
“Definitely. Let me know when you’ve got a free hour and I’m there,” Sierra said.
“I will. You’re going to have a good time at my friend’s shop, Sierra.” Mae made it sound like both a threat and a promise as she ended the call.
Seconds later an address arrived with a bright electronic chime, along with a link to a map. Clearly, Sierra had consulted the right person.
The map app on her phone told her it was a ten-minute walk to Mae’s friend’s boutique, so she exited Macy’s and headed back toward the center of town. She found Little Black Dress down a side street in the historic center of Helena. The window was full of beautiful things artfully arranged, and Sierra squelched a surge of panic as she pushed the door open. Small shops like this were usually her kryptonite. Half the time she wound up buying something she didn’t really like or want simply because she didn’t want to disappoint the sales assistant.
But Mae had said her friend would hook her up, and Mae was brilliant and beautifully dressed, so Sierra took a deep breath and smiled as the woman behind the counter turned toward her. In her fifties with sleek black hair that fell in a perfect curtain to her shoulders and dark brown eyes lined with black cat’s eye eyeliner, she was more striking than beautiful and she lit up when she saw Sierra.
“You’re Mae’s friend,” she said. “I’m Chloe. Pleased to meet you.”
She sailed out from behind the counter and Sierra took in her elegant wide-legged black pants paired with towering black ankle boots and a creamy silk blouse. It struck her that despite not being conventionally beautiful, Chloe was sexy, and Sierra decided right there and then to let go of her nervousness and put herself in the other woman’s hands.
“I’m Sierra, and I apologize in advance for being one of those annoying customers who doesn’t really know what she’s looking for,” she said with a grimace.
Chloe was already studying her with an expert eye, sizing her up. “Darling, I could dress you in a hessian feed sack and you’d still be beautiful. Thankfully, we can do a little bit better than that. Mae said you were looking for a cocktail dress, something suitable for a nice dinner out?”
“That’s right. Maybe something above the knee. If you think that would be appropriate?” Sierra asked uncertainly.
Chloe smiled, her deep red lipstick a sharp contrast with her white teeth. “With legs like yours it would be a crime if it wasn’t above the knee. Let me pull a few dresses for you.”
The next hour passed in a blur. Sierra tried on four dresses before pulling on a deceptively simple halter-neck dress made from a shimmering honey-colored fabric. It felt amazing on her skin as it slithered down her body, ending a good two inches above her knees, and when she turned to check the mirror she literally gasped out loud.
“Now that’s the sound I love to hear,” Chloe said from the other side of the change room door. “Care to share?”
Sierra pushed the door open and stepped out into the larger dressing area. A huge floor-to-ceiling mirror with a baroque gilt frame leaned against wall and Sierra stared in wonder at the woman reflected there.
“Oh, yes, that’s the one,” Chloe said with a happy sigh. “This color on your skin tone is sublime. And you have the body to pull it off, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Sierra shook her head, still feeling a little dazed. She’d never been self-conscious about her body, but she’d never been the type of woman who held her shoulders back to draw attention to her boobs or bent over in short-shorts either. But this dress . . . this dress was sex in fabric form. This dress made her breasts look perky and round. It draped over her hips, hugged her butt, and slinked around her thighs when she walked. This dress made her feel like a vixen and a sex goddess and an international assassin all at once.
“Okay. Well, I think I have my dress,” she said.
“Do we need to talk shoes? And how about lingerie? Because this dress is definitely going to require a thong. And no bra, of course.”
“Of course,” Sierra agreed, even though she hadn’t been out in public with
out a bra for ten years. “Shoes would be good. And lingerie.”
What the hell. It had been months since she bought new clothes, and it wouldn’t hurt to indulge herself a little. Just this once.
By the time she left the store she’d also bought a pair of strappy gold sandals and a tiny scrap of lace that was masquerading as underwear. Really, she couldn’t see the difference between wearing it and going commando, but she knew Garret would like it.
She took a cab to the lake house and practiced walking in her strappy new shoes, then soaked in the big tub. She shaved her legs and shampooed her hair, then spent far too long drying and fussing with it until it tumbled in big, loose curls down her back. She heard the front door open and close at around six thirty, and she rubbed moisturizer into her legs, spritzed on perfume, finished her makeup, and shimmied into her new barely there underwear. She checked the effect in the mirror and laughed out loud at how decadent she looked. Yep, Garret was definitely going to love these panties.
She waited until the last possible moment to slip the dress over her head. Chloe had lent her a black cashmere shawl and a small black clutch purse—“just drop them by the store when you can, darling”—and she collected them both before making her way down the stairs, patting herself on the back all the way for having had the foresight to practice in her new shoes.
Garret was waiting in the entrance hall when she arrived, and his reaction to the dress was everything she could have asked for and more. He’d obviously heard the click-clack of her heels and was smiling as she arrived, but the expression froze on his face as he got an eyeful of her dress, to be replaced by a dazed, glazed-eyed look she could only describe as pure lust.
“Sierra.” He took a step toward her, both hands outstretched.
“No,” she said, holding up her hand, palm facing him. Because she knew what would happen if he laid a finger on her right now. They’d miss their dinner reservation and wind up eating frozen pizza in their bathrobes. As inviting as that sounded, she’d spent two hours shaving and dicking around with her hair, not to mention the money she’d dropped on the dress.
“I promise you can touch me as much as you want later,” she said. “But we will never leave this house if you do what you want to do right now.”
Garret shook his head as though he was shaking off the effects of strong drink. “You’re right. We need to go. But baby . . . that dress is something else. It ought to come with its own personal defibrillator.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“Like doesn’t even come close. Can I just touch you here?” He hovered his hand near her hip.
“One little touch,” she said.
His warm hand landed on her hip, smoothing down the silk, and she felt the tremor of reaction go through his body.
“Holy shit. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it through dinner.”
She laughed. “Be good, and I’ll let you touch me again when we reach the restaurant.”
“Define good for me,” he said, taking her shawl and draping it over her shoulders.
“You know what good is,” she said, shooting him a look over her shoulder.
She sashayed toward the front door, and Garret made a frustrated animal sound before following her.
“Am I allowed to know where we’re going?” she asked as they walked to the car.
Garret moved ahead of her to open the door for her. It had been a long time since she’d been on the kind of date where a man pulled out all the stops, and even though she was essentially a no-fuss, no-muss kind of girl, she had to admit it was nice to feel like a princess for a few hours.
“I asked around and Lucca’s came highly recommended. Hope you like Italian.”
“I love Italian,” she said as she climbed into the car, very conscious of the shortness of her dress.
She told him about Chloe and her store and how Mae had hooked her up during the drive to the restaurant and didn’t bother hiding her smile every time she felt the heat of his gaze sliding down her legs.
“So, did I pass the test?” Garret asked after he’d pulled into a parking spot near the restaurant and turned off the engine. “Was I good enough?”
“You were so good,” Sierra said. She reached over to take his hand and brought it back to her thigh. She pressed her own hand over the top and encouraged him to slide higher.
“Baby,” he groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh as he battled for self-control.
“Later. I promise,” she said.
Garret muttered something under his breath and flung open the car door. Sierra laughed to herself, enjoying the small moment of sexual power.
Turned out it was a lot of fun being a vixen, even if it was just for the night.
Chapter Eighteen
The restaurant was rustic and charming, and their table was tucked into a private corner lit with flickering candlelight. They agreed that garlic bread was a must, then gorged themselves on the best spaghetti carbonara Sierra had ever eaten, laughing as they talked about favorite movies, shared memories from high school, and disaster stories from Garret’s college years. At some point he reached across to capture her hand and they wound up eating their food one-handed, unwilling to relinquish each other’s touch. For dessert they shared an insanely delicious square of tiramisu, dueling with each other for the final bite.
“No fair,” she cried when he finally knocked her spoon away and scooped up the prize.
“To the victor goes the spoils,” he said, swallowing the small mouthful with ostentatious relish.
Sierra made a big show out of wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin before pushing to her feet and collecting her purse. “Well. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Mr. Spoils.”
She could feel him watching her as she made her way to the bathroom. Once there, she checked her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ears before wiping away a smudge of mascara beneath her eye. She redid her lipstick, then retreated to a stall to take care of business. She opened her purse while she was sitting there, eyeing the small decorative box she’d slipped inside at the last moment before coming downstairs.
It was the fancy packaging for her barely there underwear, and the idea to reuse it had popped into her head while she was soaking in the bath earlier in the afternoon. At the time she’d laughed out loud at her own audacity. Now, she wondered if she had the courage to go through with her sexy scheme.
Then she remembered the way Garret had shivered when he ran his hand over her hip earlier and knew she had to. It would drive him crazy, in the best possible way, and she wanted to push him, wanted to make him forget all the crappy, stressful things in his life for a few minutes. They deliberately hadn’t talked about his family or work over dinner. This bubble they were in—this sensual, love-filled bubble—was the best thing in his life right now, and she was about to take it to the next level.
Business finished, she flushed, then balanced one hand against the wall as she carefully stepped out of her panties. Then she folded them neatly and nestled them back into the hot-pink tissue inside the box. She stifled a nervous laugh as she tucked the box into her purse.
She held her own eyes in the mirror as she washed and dried her hands, daring herself to go through with it. Then she stepped out into the restaurant.
It had been bad enough getting used to being braless for the evening, but feeling the cool wash of air around her lady parts as she made her way back to the table was more than a little disconcerting. If she tripped, or a rogue breeze suddenly blew up out of nowhere, she wouldn’t have many secrets from the other diners in this fancy schmancy restaurant.
It’ll be worth it. He’ll love it.
The thought kept her head high as she approached the table. Garret’s gaze was warm as she slipped back into her seat.
“I ordered coffee,” he said.
“It’s not like we were planning on sleeping, right?” she said with a smirk.
He laughed, and she reached into her purse an
d pulled out the box.
“A little something for you,” she said, sliding it across the table toward him.
He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Should I guess or just open it?”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to guess what it is. But you’re welcome to try.”
“Now I feel challenged. But just to prove I take instruction well . . .” He lifted the lid on the box and folded back the pink tissue paper inside.
She watched as comprehension dawned on his face.
“Did you just . . .” He made a gesture in the air with his hand, inviting her to fill in the blank.
“I did.”
“So you’re not wearing anything under that dress right now?” he clarified.
“Does perfume count?”
His hand shot into the air, his gaze searching for the maître d’. “Check, please.”
He looked so intense, so urgent, Sierra had to stifle a laugh behind her fingers.
“Laugh it up. Wait till we get to the car,” he said, his gaze flicking down her body with hungry intent.
Sierra shifted on the seat, conscious of her own rising desire. She loved how much he wanted her. Loved that he was just as obsessed with the magic they created when they were skin to skin as she was.
And he loved her.
He loved her, this kind, thoughtful, funny, sexy, strong, compelling man.
If that wasn’t like winning the lottery times a million, she didn’t know what was.
The check arrived in a discreet leather folder and minutes later they were headed for the door, Garret’s hand a burning brand on her lower back as he guided her onto the street.
He held the car door open for her, his gaze avid as she slid into the seat.
“See anything you like?” she asked.
“You’re in so much trouble, Carmody,” was his reply.
He didn’t say anything as he got into the driver’s seat, just put his seat belt on, started the car, and pulled away from the curb. She could feel the tension in him and she wasn’t surprised when he turned down a side road once they’d left the bright lights of Helena. He drove for a minute or so, then turned again into a small parking area in what she guessed was some sort of nature reserve.
More Than a Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 3) Page 22