Page 32 of Sinful Escape

She plumped up my hair. “Your stunning curls are highlighted with this simple black fabric.”

She pointed at my boobs with a satisfactory smile. “It shows off your marvelous assets.”

Divine. Stunning. Marvelous. She was a walking thesaurus.

She was also very good. It really did look good on me. But what was the point of owning a dress I would never wear?

I must’ve pulled a face because she sighed and put her hand on her hip. “Would you like me to show you something different?”

“Oh, no thank you.” I shrugged. “I don’t have an occasion to wear it.”

“Ahhh, but when you do have an occasion, you’ll be pleased to have this in your wardrobe.”

And therein lay her next mistake. I didn’t have a wardrobe. This beautiful dress would crumple in my suitcase for weeks on end.

Not wanting to explain that little scenario, I decided on a different approach. “How much is it?”

Her face lit up. “You are in luck. It’s on special—thirty percent off.”

Matching her smile, I waited for her to reveal the price. She didn’t. “And what is the special price?”

“Just two hundred and ninety euros.”

If I’d had a milkshake rather than a coffee earlier, it would now be a mighty mess on the plush carpet. Two hundred and ninety euros! Lordy! It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it, but I couldn’t comprehend how such a simple piece of clothing could cost so much. “I’m sorry, but that’s way outside my budget. I shouldn’t have tried it on.”

Her smile snapped to a thin line. If her eyes were daggers, they would’ve sliced my head clean off.

I scurried back into the cubicle, and she yanked the curtain closed.

I couldn’t undress and redress fast enough. With the dress back on the hanger, I tugged the curtain aside and was surprised to see her still standing there. Her angry scowl was accentuated by her hands on her hips.

Not my fault the stupid woman had lured me into her stupid dress shop with those stupid fluttering lashes. I was not going to feel bad about this. Nuh-uh, no way.

“There you go.” I handed her the dress with my most dazzling smile.

Her eyes blazed into my back until I crossed the exit threshold.

Outside, I raised my chin to the glorious sunshine and strode toward the hostel like I owned the whole building.

But it was like I’d become some kind of romance magnet. Couples were everywhere.

Young. Old. In-between.

All bombarding me with public displays of affection.

William and I had never shown affection in public. We hadn’t even held hands.

My gaze whipped from one couple to the next. Lovers kissing, hugging, holding hands, laughing. Taunting me. Teasing me. Sucking me down a single-status black hole.

Picking up my pace, I gave my Del Reys and my size-F boulder-holder a workout as I dashed to the safety of my room.

Once inside, I dove onto the bed, shoved my face into the pillow and bawled my eyes out.

What the hell is happening to me?

I rarely cried. This was my second time in two days. Pierre’s comment about me being lonely for love shot through my brain like a cupid’s arrow.

Was I lonely for love?

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