Page 20 of Croatia Collateral

“Do you approve?” she asked, though she didn’t need his approval for anything. Her clothes. Her choice.

A grin spread across his face. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” She spun and would have walked back into the dressing room.

“Wait,” Dax said.

He wasn't in the chair when she turned a frown toward him. He’d disappeared.

“D—” she started, remembered and amended, “Evan?”

“I’m right here, Sweetcheeks,” his voice sounded from around a corner. He appeared carrying a narrow, red leather belt. “Try this, he said, holding out the belt. “You need a pop of color.”

Her frown did nothing to deter him from advancing on her. Before she could anticipate what he was about to do, he slid the belt through the loops on the front of the trousers. His arms encircled her, his fingers feeling their way to each loop, slipping the belt through until he arrived back at the front. He buckled the belt, stood back and nodded. “Better. Look.” He gripped her hips and turned her to face the mirror.

Giva could barely breathe with his hands resting on her hips.

“What do you think?” he asked, smiling over her shoulder into the mirror.

Think? How could she think when he stood so close she could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth of his body against her back? “It’s amazing,” she said breathlessly.

“It reminds me of the red dress and how hot you were in it.” He winked, released his hold on her and moved back. “Go on. Next outfit.”

Giva dove into the changing room and leaned her back against the door, forcing air in and out of her lungs.

The man had only slipped a belt around her waist. He hadn’t kissed her or touched her breasts. Yet, her entire body had lit up like a smelting furnace.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, appalled at the flush of bright pink in her cheeks. “What is wrong with you?” she murmured.

“Everything all right in there?” Dax asked.

“Yes. Everything’s fine,” she squeaked, cursing inwardly.

He’s just a man.

Giva paced the two steps across the tiny space, spun and paced back.

A ruggedly handsome man.

But only a man. One I have to work with.

She clenched her hands into fists and raised her face to the ceiling.

Don’t complicate this.

“Do you need help with a zipper or buttons?” Dax asked, his voice close, as if right outside the door.

“No. I can manage. I’ll be right out.” Giva quickly unbuckled the red belt. Her hands shook as she pulled it out of the loops Dax had found one at a time, his chest pressed to hers, his hands brushing against her as they worked their way around.

Get a grip!

She whipped the belt out and dropped it like a hot potato, then shimmied out of the trousers and into the black high-waisted slacks. She pulled on a black turtleneck sweater, tucked the hem into her waistband then shrugged into a black and white herringbone jacket. As she stared at the combination in the mirror, she shook her head.

Giva retrieved the thin red belt from the floor and threaded it through the loops, hating that Dax had been right about a pop of color but not willing to let him put it on her for the second time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him.

She didn’t trust herself. If she was honest with herself...she’d liked it when he’d slipped the belt on far too much.

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