Page 44 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

I choked down a laugh. “David doesn’t have dentures.”

“Figure of speech.” TJ patted my arm. “Now let me see that booty in this rocking dress. Go on now.”

I was going.

An hour later, I wore heavier makeup than usual, and I was cinched into my dress—lo and behold, it still fit, slightly more tightness in the backend aside. My hair was done in an elegant updo I never could have managed without TJ’s help, and my toes were squeezed into a pair of heels that I hadn’t worn in so long I’d forgotten how to walk in them.

Forget dancing. I’d probably fall and break my nose.

I was so nervous I was on the verge of texting Dex to tell him I had the flu.

“I shouldn’t have asked him. He’s a client. I was just desperate.”

“You weren’t desperate. You know a good man when you see one. He likes you. You like him. Just because David was a fucking A-1 dick doesn’t mean you don’t have good judgment, sweetie.” TJ straightened the shoulders of my dress and then stepped back to smile at me. “You are fucking hot. Trust me. Dex will swallow his tongue.”

“We have a professional relationship—”

She snapped her fingers. “Not yet you don’t. He hasn’t signed those papers yet.”

I cocked my head. “You think that’s why?”

She shrugged. “It could be. And if it is, he already knows you pretty damn well. Impressive in such a short time.”

“I spent most of the weekend with him. Platonically,” I added quickly, recapping what had happened. “It ended up being most of Saturday, and then Sunday we were at his house until after dinnertime. He ordered out both times.”

TJ feigned a gasp. “And you tolerated such?”

“Berry loves takeout. She gets so excited.” I jerked a shoulder. “I mean, I don’t want her to expect—”

“You can expect good things sometimes. It’s not character building to always anticipate drudgery.”

I had to laugh. “I don’t. I just don’t want her to want things I can’t always deliver.”

“Not your job to police her wants. She’s a smart kid. Both of you need some fun in your life. Trust Aunt Teej.” She leaned in to grab my sparkly clutch. “You got condoms in this tiny thing?”

“No.” I snatched the bag back. “Why would I?”

“Just in case. I know you’ll relax more if all the angles are covered.” She wiggled a strip of foil packets she pried out of the pocket of her tight jeans and dropped them in my bag before returning it to me. Then she reached up to close my lips. “Live a little. You can go back to being sensible Shelbster on Monday.”

I fumbled in my bag for my phone. Not to run my fingertips over those condoms as if reassuring myself they were real. That this whole date was really happening.

Assuming he showed.

“I need to check on Berry,” I mumbled as I yanked out my phone.

“No, you don’t.” TJ closed my bag on my fingers. “She’s at your parents’ house, probably baking cookies and watching cartoons. Not like she’s at a rave.”

“Do they even have raves anymore?”

“Who knows?” TJ waved her sparkly lime-green fingernails. “She’s fine. You’re fine. Stop overthinking for a couple hours and go have some fun.”

The doorbell rang and my face must’ve revealed my sheer panic, because TJ hurried down the stairs and went to open the door. “Fluff your hair,” she mouthed.

I followed her, fluffing my hair for all I was worth while I lamented not wearing something less revealing. Did they sell burlap sacks anywhere nearby?

The bell rang again just as TJ turned the knob. I turned away from the door. He’d probably be able to see my heart on the verge of throbbing through my chest.

“Hi TJ. Is Shelby—hi, Shelby?” The question in his tone had me turning toward the open doorway. My gaze snagged on Dex in his tux—not a suit, a damn tuxedo—and I tried to formulate words as he held out a single white rose. “For you,” he said, probably thinking I’d bolt and let him give it to TJ.

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