Page 90 of His Wild Attraction

Yes, I was afraid he’d push his claim on my son, but I trusted Andres to deal with it.

Thank God for Andres.

I headed for the walk-in closet and looked at what was my side of the enormous space.

Andres had told me to use it when I first moved in. But my meager belongings hadn’t filled even a third of the shelves, drawers, and racks available.

Like he had shown me in so many other ways, Andres understood my discomfort.

There was nothing wrong with flannel pants and sweatshirts, but if I was going to live in his world, I needed something more than the few pieces of clothing I’d managed to collect these past months.

After moving in, as if by magic, I woke up one day to dozens of new articles of clothing, both on hangers and lining the shelves, filling the previously empty spaces.

I’d already blubbered all over him for the amazing things he’d gotten for Sammy. Clothes, toys, the cat condos lining just about every free wall in the place.

Everything was by the same designer as the wedding dresses Andres had sent me. He was just the most thoughtful man.

Tonight was going to be rough, and I needed something staid. I needed to look respectable, but it had to be something that bolstered my confidence.

I moved around, touching hangers and perusing shelves. Each thing was more beautiful than the last, and I was just overwhelmed. Even when I had money, I never dressed that way.

Finding trendy clothing for my plus-sized body was always a challenge. Also, there was the fact I was always trying to live up to someone else's expectations of what I should wear or look like.

I recalled something I read in a magazine article once upon a time and I finally recognized the wisdom of the statement.

Just because it looks good on the mannequin doesn’t mean it looks good on you.

Truer words were never spoken, I thought and snorted.

Andres seemed to know exactly what would look good on me. The designer dressed a lot of plus-sized women, and I appreciated the quality and cut of the clothes almost as much as I appreciated my husband purchasing them for me.

Every piece was superb and just what I’d want for myself. It was like Andres had told him I was a mom, someone who liked to cook, and that I kept fairly active.

There were several versatile pieces and activewear, both of excellent quality and durability. But there were fancier articles, too.

Even those were edgier than I’d ever bought for myself. I bit my lip, excited about clothes for the first time in a very long time.

All the colors were bright and bold. Not soft pastels that made me look washed out.

They suited me, and I bit my lip, grinning at the deep necklines and fitted waists. The one place where his preferred color choice for me, black, reigned supreme was in my panty drawer.

“Let’s see,” I sighed, running my hands over the dozens of silky, lacy confections.

Okay, so Andres certainly knew how to bolster a girl’s confidence.

Sweet, sexy man.

I sucked in a deep breath, swapped the plain underwear set I’d put on for one of the new, sexier black lace panties and bra sets that filled my lingerie drawers.

After making sure my new under things were in place and comfy, I grabbed a pair of black, high-waisted, wide-legged pants and paired them with a deep green sweater.

The scoop neck wasn’t immodest, but it did marvelous things for my breasts and belly, making the former appear larger than the latter, and making me feel ultra feminine but not wimpy in the slightest.

I pulled on a pair of black ankle boots and used a spritz of my favorite scent. Then I headed to the living room to grab my purse and cell phone.

“Whoa,” a deep voice rumbled behind me.

I turned around and slapped a hand to my chest, startled.

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