Page 41 of The Texan's Secrets

“The wine?”

“You, getting in front of the camera.”

“We should go with our strengths, and you’re really good at it.”

The waitress arrived, and the two began conferring on the choice of wine.

Emilia blew out a sigh and gave up trying to get answers out of Nick. Taking a bite of her breadstick and a hearty swig of her martini, she instead settled in to enjoy what looked to be a fabulous meal.

Who wanted to argue in a place like this?

“No argument from you, Emie,” Paris insisted while Emilia stared into the mirror. “The invitation said formal, andthisis the one.”

“Did it say ball gown?” It was the third of Paris’s dresses Emilia had tried on tonight and the fanciest of them all.

“This isn’t a ball gown.”

Emilia swayed, and the full-length, layered chiffon skirt rustled around her legs. It sure looked and felt like a ball gown.

“It’s an evening dress,” Paris finished.

“It’s gown-like,” Emilia insisted, although she’d admit she was no expert.

“You cannot wear a cocktail dress to the party tonight. And do you still have your contact lenses?”

“Somewhere.” Emilia hadn’t worn them in months.

“Put them in. That way you won’t hide your eye makeup.”

“Are you insulting my glasses?”

“No.” Paris took a couple of steps back to survey Emilia. She grinned. “I’m just getting into this Cinderella thing.”

“I’m not Cinderella,” Emilia insisted, although she felt transformed in the plum-colored dress. The V-neck of the bodice and the drop sleeve were made of sheer netting with beautiful lace appliqué. A jeweled belt showed off her waist and matched the strappy silver rhinestone heels Paris had lent her.

It was one of the most dramatic outfits she’d ever put on.

“Into the bathroom. We’ll put a little mousse in your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Trust me.”

“I don’t know.” Emilia wasn’t sure she wanted to feel even less like herself. “What about you? Shouldn’t you get dressed?”

“It’ll take me fifteen minutes, tops. Everything’s ready.”

“Did you hear from Chase?” Emilia tried for a distraction as Paris ushered her toward the bathroom.

“Yes.”

“Youdid? Why didn’t you say something?”

“He called this afternoon. He asked if I was coming to the party. As if I wouldn’t be.”

“Did he offer to pick you up?”

Paris turned on the taps and ran her hands under warm water. “He said he’d meet me there.”

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