Page 33 of Captive of Outlaws

I shimmy the T-shirt down, then kick off the sweatpantsand tug up the jeans.

“Bastards,” Rob says. “Listen, Jack, I’ll see what I can—”

I push back the curtain as emphatically as I can, interrupting in a way I hope makes it clear I wasn’t eavesdropping.

“What do you think?” I ask.

Jack springs to life. “Well, whatIthink doesn’t matter,” he says, ushering me back on the pedestal. “But if you ask me...Ms. Hepburn to the set! Ms. Hepburn to the set!”

I smile, even though I know he’s just flattering me to be nice, and I take in my reflection.

It’s...not bad.

Granted, I still look a little rough, what with my early morning and the wind in my hair the whole ride here. But the T-shirt clings to my curves in a way that’s flattering but not too look-at-me-sexy, scooping just below my collarbone and revealing some of my freckles, and while the jeans are definitely designer, they feel like they can take a licking and keep on ticking, and they make my legs look a mile long.

“That’s the look,” Jack says, more to Rob than to me. “She’s feeling herself. Aren’t you, Miss Maren?”

“I think so,” I admit. “You do good work.”

“From your lips to God’s ears!” Jack says, clapping his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t work with all this country-club nonsense. So much fun to dress a real sophisticate once in a while.” He turns to Rob, tipping his head slightly. “Sir?”

Rob’s hunched forward in his chair a bit, rubbing his chin. I meet his eyes in the mirror and see they’re...not distant, exactly, but almostdistracted.The green color is fogged with something heavy and potent as his gaze slowly makes its way up my body.

He’s checking me out.

I feel it more than I think it, a truth as instinctual as the need to breathe. Even wearing these new clothes, I feel almost naked, like he’s seeing everything about me for the first time.

It’s not a comfortable feeling. But it’s not a bad one either.

Rob presses his lips together and sits a bit straighter. “She’ll need a bra. Several, probably.”

Confused, I glance at myself in the mirror again. Sure enough, the T-shirt’s thin enough that my nipples perk up right through the material, unmistakable.

My throat catches. I swallow thickly and fold my arms. It’s just a bit cold in here, I tell myself. That’s all.

“Of course,” Jack says smoothly. “I’ll put together a full repertoire for every occasion. Unless you’d like to pick them out individually, Miss Maren?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, I trust you. Let me just...” I practically stumble off the pedestal and back into the changing stall.

Once inside, I breathe hard, trying to force myself to get a grip. I manage to calm down enough to change out of the T-shirt and jeans, but as I pull the loaner sweats back on I can’t help but feel a pang of regret that I’m getting into something so much less...appealing.

When I reemerge, Rob is finalizing things with Jack at the register.

“Please,” Jack is saying. “I insist.”

“I don’t take discounts,” Rob says. “You know that. And that’s final.”

“But...” Jack’s eyes flit to me as I sidle up, notnotinterested in what’s going down. He puffs out a short, exasperated breath, but never loses his cheery demeanor. “Very well.”

“Thank you, Jack. Obliged as always.” Rob flashes a smile.Jack bobs his head gratefully.

“Oh, anything for you, Robin. The least we can do around here.” He grasps Rob’s hand in both of his, shaking vigorously. “And you, Ms. Bacall. Thank you for the chance to dress you. You’ll look a real treat.”

“Thank you,” I say, and mean it. I’ve never had a personal shopper before, but if they’re all as kind and flattering as Jack, I can see why people get into it.

If they have ungodly amounts of money, anyway.

I try to glimpse at the receipt as Rob scribbles at the bottom, but he deftly crumples it away before I have a chance. Whether he caught me staring or not, I can’t say.

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