Page 56 of Entranced
As soon as it was possible, she would slip back into her jeans and boots and faded shirts. And be equally oblivious to the fact that she looked equally spectacular in them.
By Merlin’s beard, you have it bad, Donovan, he thought as he chose a silver evening bag with an emerald clasp. His mother had once told him that love was more painful, more delightful, and more unstoppable when it came unexpectedly.
How right she had been.
The last thing he’d expected was to feel anything more than an amused attraction for a woman like Mel. She was tough, argumentative, prickly, and radically independent. Hardly seductive qualities in a woman.
She was also warm and generous, loyal and brave, and honest.
What man could resist an acid-tongued woman with a caring heart and a questing mind? Certainly not Sebastian Donovan.
It would take time and patience to win her over completely. He didn’t have to look to know. She was much too cautious—and, despite her cocky exterior, too insecure—to hand over her heart with both hands until she was sure of its reception.
He had time, and he had patience. If he didn’t look to be sure, it was because he felt it would be unfair to both of them. And because, in a deep, secret chamber of his own heart, he was afraid he would look and see her walking away.
“Well, I got it on,” Mel griped behind him. “But I don’t see how it’s going to stay up for long.”
He turned. And stared.
“What is it?” Alarmed, she slapped a hand to the slight swell of her breasts above the glittery sequins and looked down. “Do I have it on backwards or something?”
The laugh did the trick of starting his heart again. “No. You wear it very well. There’s nothing that raises a man’s blood pressure as quickly as a long, slim woman in a black dress.”
She snorted. “Give me a break.”
“Perfect, perfect.” The saleswoman came over to pluck and peck. Mel rolled her eyes at Sebastian. “It fits like a dream.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Like a dream.”
“I have some red silk evening pants that would be just darling on her.”
“Donovan,” Mel began, a plea in her voice, but he was already following the eager clerk.
Thirty minutes later, Mel strode out of the store. “That’s it. Case closed.”
“One more stop.”
“Donovan, I’m not trying on any more clothes. I’d rather be staked to an anthill.”
“No more clothes,” he promised.
“Good. I could be undercover on this case for a decade and not wear everything.”
“Two weeks,” he told her. “It won’t take longer than two weeks. And by the time we’ve made the rounds at the casinos, the clubs, attended a few parties, you’ll have made good use of the wardrobe.”
“Two weeks?” She felt excitement begin to percolate through the boredom. “Are you sure?”
“Call it a hunch.” He patted her hand. “I have a feeling that what we do in Tahoe will be enough to set the dominoes tumbling on this black-market operation.”
“You never told me exactly how you convinced the feds to let us go with this.”
“I have a history with them. You could say I called in a few favors, made some promises.”
She stopped to look in another store window, not to peruse the wares, but because she needed a moment to choose her words. “I know I couldn’t have gotten them to back me without you. And I know that you don’treally have a stake in any of this.”
“I have the same stake as you.” He turned her to face him. “You don’t have a client, Sutherland. No retainer, no fee.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
