Page 52 of Failure to Match

“What d’you think, cutie?” I turned to Toebeans, holding the dress against my shoulders for him to see. “Should I wear it and go along with whatever lunacy The Bad Man has planned? One tail flick for yes, two for no.”

The shimmer had managed to capture his wide-eyed attention, and after a few entrapped moments, his fluffy tail swept through the air once. Twice.

Three times.

“That wasn’t one of the options,” I chided, carefully placing the dress back in its box before stripping out of my jeans.

It was one night. What could it possibly hurt?

I was twirl-walking in front of the lengthy wall mirror when the knock came, gleefully watching the liquid fabric dance mesmerizingly around my feet.

He was exactly on time.

“Coming!”

My fingers were a little clumsy as they adjusted the dainty straps of the dress and checked the pins holding my loose updo together, but it was just work nerves. The last time I’d gone on a fake date with a client, it hadn’t exactly gone according to plan.

Wiping my palms against the shimmering fabric, I leaned in to double-check for lipstick smudges and loose mascara flakes. I’d stuck to pink and neutral tones for my makeup, except for the delicate black liner sweeping across my upper lids, giving their outer corners a sultry lift.

Oh, and I may or may not have dabbed on the tiniest bit of the emergency perfume I kept in my purse. Not for Jackson, obviously. It was all for The Dress.

The Dress was pure magic.

I loved it more than I’d ever loved any nonliving thing in my life. If it were mine, I’d cuddle it to sleep every night. Every. Single. Night.

I all but pranced to the door, my serotonin levels spiking every time I caught a glimpse of my shimmery pink self on a reflective surface. The slit was sexy as all hell, though it would have been even hotter with the right shoes. I hadn’t packed fora black-tie evening though, so a pair of my work heels had to suffice.

They didn’t do The Dress the ethereal justice it deserved, but they were better than sneakers.

I paused when I reached for the door handle and realized my fingers were still unsteady. Clearing my throat, I took a deep, grounding breath, not wanting Jackson to mistake my excitement about The Dress for excitement about our non-date date.

I was not excited about our non-date date. If anything, I was dreading it. Because, again, the last one had been a nightmare.

I took another breath.

“Jamie.”

I blinked. His voice was crystal-clear from the other side of the door. No wonder he’d overheard me talking to Toebeans the other day.

“What?”

“I can hear you.”

I narrowed my eyes at the slab of wood. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re breathing very noisily.”

“I’m breathing normally.”

“Are you that nervous?”

My fingers curled tighter around the silver door handle. “Of course not.”

“It’s okay if I make you nervous.”

“You don’tmake me nervous,” I insisted as an odd, fluttery sensation swept up my chest. What was with him? He sounded different.

“Are you going to open the door, or shall we conduct our date like this?”

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