Page 42 of The Texan's Secrets

Emilia wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to offer sympathy, but she didn’t want to be falsely cheerful either. Paris would see right through that.

Paris ran her wet fingers through Emilia’s hair, dampening it. “He doesn’t want to pick me up? Okay. Then I’m going to dress to the nines and knock his socks off.”

“So, you should be getting yourself ready instead of worrying about me.”

“You’re the one with a hot date.”

“He’s not a hot—”

“Oh, yes he is.” Paris smoothed some mousse into Emilia’s hair, then went at it with a brush and a blow dryer.

“Okay. Maybe a little hot,” Emilia admitted.

She’d spent the day working with Nick on the video workshop. Taylor had been with them, so she’d kept her hands to herself. She’d admit that she was looking forward to dancing with Nick tonight.

“There,” Paris said with satisfaction, surveying her work.

Emilia turned to the mirror. Her hair was parted at the side and waved in sections over her head, giving it volume and sophistication. Paris had tucked the rest behind the opposite ear and somehow turned it slightly under at the neck. It looked like something from a fashion runway.

“What do you think?” Paris asked.

“It’s...not exactly me, is it?” But Emilia liked it.

“You need something dramatic on your ears. And I seriously want you to put in your contacts. I’m going to swoop your eyeliner, and I want him to see your gorgeous eyes.”

“Swoop my eyeliner?”

“If not tonight, Emie, seriously, when?”

The only answer Emilia had for that was never. But she didn’t say it out loud.

“Contacts.” Paris said the word like an order as she marched out of the bathroom. “I’ll find you some earrings.”

It took Emilia a few minutes to get her contacts in. Then a few more minutes to get used to wearing them again.

“Here we go.” Paris returned carrying a pair of long drop crystal earrings.

“Those aren’t mine.”

“No kidding. Try them.”

Emilia slipped them into her ears. They felt heavy, and they sparkled and swayed as she moved.

“They look really good,” Paris said as she dragged a chair into the bathroom and set it down in the middle of the floor. “Sit.”

“You aresobossy.”

“We don’t have a lot of time here.”

“That what I keep saying. Go get ready already.”

“I’m not worried about me. The worst that can happen is I’ll be fashionably late. You have to be ready for Nick.”

Emilia agreed on that. “I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Compulsively punctual,” Paris muttered. “So, close your eyes and let me get to work.”

Emilia sat still while Paris fussed over her makeup. Finally, after what seemed like an inordinately long time, Paris gave her permission to look in the mirror.

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