Page 14 of Ruthless Creatures
So is the jarring fact that it doesn’t fit.
Frowning, I pinch a few inches of loose fabric around the waist.
I’ve lost weight since I last had it on at the final fitting two weeks before the wedding. I’ve never been curvy to begin with, but it’s only now that I realize I’m too thin.
David wouldn’t have approved of this body. He was always encouraging me to eat more and work out more, to look more like Sloane.
I’d forgotten how much that hurt my feelings until right now.
I turn slowly left and right, lost in memories and mesmerized by how the crystals catch the light and sparkle, until the sound of the doorbell jolts me out of my daze.
It’s Sloane. She’s early.
My first instinct is to tear off the dress and stuff it guiltily back into the closet. But then it occurs to me that seeing me in it—and seeing me calm—is the best way to reassure her that I’m fine. That she doesn’t have to be so vigilant about watching over me.
I mean, if I can handle this, I can probably handle anything, right?
I shout toward the front door, “Come in!” Then I stand calmly in front of the mirror and wait.
The front door opens and closes. Footsteps echo through the living room, then stop.
“I’m back here!”
The footsteps start up again. Sloane must be wearing boots, because it sounds like a moose is clomping through my house.
I smooth my hands down the bodice of the dress, expecting to see Sloane’s head pop through the door. But the head that appears isn’t hers.
Gasping, I whirl around and stare in horror at Kage.
He dwarfs the doorway. He’s in all black again, leather and denim, combat boots to match. In his big hands is a package, a brown box sealed with tape.
On his face is a look of open astonishment.
Lips parted, he stares at me. His heated gaze rakes up and down my body. He exhales in an audible huff.
Feeling like I’ve been caught masturbating spread-eagle on the kitchen floor, I cover my chest with my arms and cry, “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“You told me to come in.”
God, that voice. That rich, husky baritone. If I weren’t so horrified, I might think it was hot.
“I thought you were someone else!”
His unblinking gaze rakes over me again, head to toe, as focused and intense as a laser. He moistens his lips.
For some reason, I find that simple gesture both sexy and menacing.
His voice drops to a growl. “You getting married?”
It could be the embarrassment, the surprise, or the fact that this man was so rude to me last night, but all at once, I’m furious. My voice shaking and my face red, I take a step toward him.
“None of your business. What are you doing here?”
For some reason, my anger amuses him. A hint of a smile crosses his lips, there then quickly vanished. He gestures with the box in his hands. “UPS left this on my porch. It’s addressed to you.”
“Oh.”
Now I’m even more flustered. He’s being a friendly neighbor. Judging by his performance last night, I would’ve expected him to set the box on fire and kick it over the back fence, not hand deliver it.
