Page 35 of Mr. Wolfe's Nanny

I don’t expect him to reply anytime soon but he does.What do you mean? Are you alright?

I appreciate that he’s concerned but didn’t mean to worry him.I’m fine. Just up to my eyeballs in designer dresses and champagne. If I’m too intoxicated to pick up the kids later, I’ll insist you recall the reason this was necessary.

Theo: Where are you?

Quinn: I’m not really going to drink!

Then, I give the name of the boutique and put my phone away. Time to try on.

I pick up the first dress, see the price tag and tell myself to breathe and not vomit. He said to buy whatever I need and probably wouldn’t bat an eye at the cost.

The purple one is low-cut and makes my breasts look amazing but the fading bruise on my neck is very noticeable. I lightly stroke it, remembering Friday night.“I’m going to mark you, Quinn. What do you think of that?”

I press my lips and thighs together. I’d really like to be marked by him again. In many ways. Hopefully, this bruise will be easy to conceal with a little make-up by Saturday though because none of these dresses have turtlenecks and I’m not really intending to cause a scandal.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the dressing room in the purple. I don’t care what the saleswoman thinks of the fading hickey on my neck but I know Isa will have questions. Her eyes narrow but she only remarks that I look beautiful. Butterflies dance inside me. Will Theo think so too?

Next, comes the royal blue. It looked lovely hanging but it’s a definite no on me. The black is pretty but Isa and Jena both shake their heads. “Too dowdy.”

Back to the trenches, I pull on the ivory silk. “Oh, you look gorgeous, Quinn!” Isa squeals.

Ifeelgorgeous. Will I feel gorgeous enough next to him though? I give myself a critical, head-to-toe appraisal in front of the floor-length mirror. “It might do,” I say as if I’m in the habit of judging thousand-dollar dresses every day. “But doesn’t it look a touch… bridal?”

Isa hums an agreement and Jena looks torn between honesty and a fat commission.

Deciding ivory in November amongst a bunch of journalists isn’t the ticket, I try on the red just to get it out of the way.

Out of the way? What am I talking about? Thisisthe way.

It clings to my form perfectly, the soft fabric so delicious. It makes my waist look tiny. Off-the-shoulder with a slit to mid-thigh, this dress is the siren’s call. It’s sexy and elegant and probably a little over-the-top for a collection of journalists at a stuffy awards banquet, isn’t it?

“I look like I’m about to commit murder on the Orient Express in this,” I tell my audience as I dramatically exit the changing room.

“Consider me your victim but what a way to go,” a deep, masculine voice replies, amused.

“Theo!” I gasp. He’s seated next to Isa with Jena gleefully bringing him a glass of bubbly. “What are you doing here?”

“I was nearby when you texted. I wanted to see how it was going. Thank you,” he tells Jena as he takes the champagne.

“Um… you remember my sister, right?”

“Of course,” he says, nodding to Isa. Isa’s mouth is pursed as she looks between the two of us. There’s a bit of tension hanging in the air. Did I miss something?

“So, that’s the one, right?” Theo asks next. The obvious appreciation glowing in his eyes makes it hard to say no.

“Maybe. Come up here. Let me see how I look next to you,” I tell him.

Gracefully, he rises from his chair, still holding his champagne flute, and joins me on the little raised platform. We face the three-way mirror, him in his tailored suit and me in the red dress. He smells good, looks amazing. My eyes snag on the reflection of his mouth in the mirror. I remember how it felt on me. His hand is close to mine, those strong, skilled fingers. I want to grasp them.

I divert my attention to the purpose of this outing. I do look like I belong on his arm dressed like this and feel warm all over. Really warm. A very nice sort of warm. Dammit, I’ve got to keep my cool.

“Well, is this the one?” he prompts, pitching his voice low. “I think you look absolutely radiant, Quinn.” He draws a hand up towards my throat, stretching out a finger as if he’s going to touch where he marked me but then drops his hand. His tone turns teasing. “Can I still be your date Saturday night or is there some hot actor or musician you plan on dumping me for?”

I smile giddily, unable to contain it, and then clear my throat to haughtily answer, “This is the one and you’ll do, Mr. Wolfe.”

∞∞∞

There’d been sounds of haggling outside the dressing room as I’d been changing back into my jeans but, after a quick trip to the ladies’ room, I find Theo waiting for me with a garment bag thrown over his shoulder and Jena looking ready to melt with happiness. Granted, he looks so fine she might be ready to melt just being in such close proximity even without any commission. I am.

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