Page 75 of California Dreaming

“I couldn’t get the zipper up over my chest.”

He shook his head sadly. “You should have asked for some help… I’d have enjoyed that.”

She wanted to lean in and give him a kiss, but though there was no one in sight, she was too conscious of being spotted.

* * *

“I’m going to get the shirt,” Arch said. “You’re right, it’s a great fit. And the walking stick, obviously.” He tossed it in the air and caught it like Fred Astaire. “What about the red dress? Did you want it?”

He hoped Tessa would say no. She looked great in it, of course—she’d look great in anything—but the dress Mila had found was something truly special, and he wanted to surprise her with it.

She shook her head. “It’s not quite right. I’ll keep looking.”

“I want you to be happy with whatever you wear.”

He’d loved watching her consider all the dresses so carefully. She’d looked fabulous in the two she’d shown him, but he was secretly glad she hadn’t found the perfect one.

As they approached the sales counter, she suddenly stopped—her attention caught by something on one of the shelves. She reached to the top shelf and brought down something shiny. It was a little beaded evening bag, white, with a Deco vibe.

“This is gorgeous.” She looked at him quizzically. “Is it weird to buy the bag before I find the dress?”

Arch shook his head. He couldn’t believe how well what she’d chosen would go with the silvery dress. He and Mila hadn’t even thought to buy a bag. “It’s perfect.”

She opened the purse, showing him the original silk lining. She turned the price tag over and then nodded with satisfaction. “Ten dollars.”

His eyebrows shot up. “No way. I’m about to spend that on iced coffees for us.”

“Way,” she said, clearly pleased with her find. “Told you I’m good at this. And see? It was on a high shelf. There’s nothing quite like a bargain.”

He hadn’t even looked at the price of his shirt. Twelve dollars. He was stunned. The walking stick was thirty-five bucks—and he’d be using it with a tux custom-made for him by Dior.

He went to add the bag to his pile of finds, but Tessa shook her head. “These are on me,” she said. “You can buy the coffee if you like.”

But he held firm. “You wouldn’t even need that purse if you weren’t doing me a favor. So I’m buying it—and your dress when you find one.”

His hope was that if he could convince her to let him spend ten bucks on a handbag, he had a better chance of foisting a dress that cost five grand on her. Many of the women attending the event would be wearing gowns that cost ten or twenty times that. Nonetheless, he had to move carefully. He’d start with a ten-dollar bag.

As they headed toward a coffee shop, Arch realized he’d never been this relaxed with a woman—ever. Even at the aquarium, he’d been focused on how to impress Tessa and make sure she had an amazing day. But now he was just having fun, pure fun, and she was too.

“I love getting to know you better. Thank you for taking me shopping and letting me see more of your world.” He paused as they entered the coffee shop. “And I want to see more of your life. When you go to the beach to paint later, is there any chance you’d let me come with you? I won’t bother you. Maybe I could bring my script, and we could work side by side. What do you say?”

She turned to him, and for a moment, he thought she’d turn him down, keep him locked out of the work she was so passionate about. But then—thankfully—pleasure suffused her face.

And when she said, “I’d love that,” he felt like he’d just won an Oscar.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

At the beach, Tessa set up her easel slowly, with more care than usual. She couldn’t shake the sensation of eyes on her, even though Arch was already settled on a nearby bench, buried in his script. He wasn’t even looking in her direction.

When he’d first suggested coming along, her first instinctive thought had been, No way. Not a chance. Arch might be the only living person who knew about her painting, but she truly did consider it a private, personal pursuit. It was a fanciful dream, painting. Her escape from reality and a way to process her feelings.

It was not a group activity. Especially with a man whose body made her wild with desire. How would she be able to concentrate?

But then she recalled meeting Mylene Fraser, who’d seen her work in this very spot, and had told Tessa that it was good enough to enter the Carmel-by-the-Sea plein air competition. Tessa had put the moment out of her mind, banishing it to some far-off place inside her. But what if Mylene had a point? She was a renowned artist after all. And hadn’t Arch echoed her praise, displaying one of her paintings in the same room as a Picasso?

When Tessa had let his request to come with her sink in, even though it felt fraught with risk, at the same time there was nothing she wanted more than for him to share this space with her, to be part of her world.

Every inch of it.

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