…
Jake followed Kim through the department store, admiring her long, leggy figure and the sway of her khaki-clad ass as she sauntered along in front of him. How in the hell had he ended up in love with a woman who thought—and he quoted her here—“love was for dickheads”?
When he’d first met her, she’d been slightly plump and so sweet he’d wanted to rip that bastard of a husband of hers into pieces. Four years later, she had the lean lines of a catwalk model with absolutely none of the self-awareness. She had no clue what she did to him. Did she honestly think he made a habit of taking his operatives dress shopping?
He smiled grimly as he remembered her expression when he’d mentioned the dress thing. She could hardly have looked more incredulous if he’d suggested she strip naked, bend herself over the back of the sofa, and allow him to screw her brains out. One of his more frequent recurring fantasies during movie night.
Occasionally, he picked up a dress and handed it to the sales assistant who trailed behind him. He spotted a pink one and added it to the pile just to piss Kim off.
“You’d better go with her,” he said to the assistant when they reached the dressing rooms. “Left to herself, she’ll probably put them on backward.” He took a seat opposite the cubicle, crossed one leg over his knee, and prepared to be entertained.
“He’s a bit forceful, your boyfriend, isn’t he?” The assistant commented as they disappeared into the room.
“He’s a bit of a patronizing ass,” Kim muttered. “And he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my boss.”
Then the curtains closed behind them, muffling the sound of their voices.
Jake ran a hand through his hair. He’d wanted Kim from the first moment they’d met. But back then she’d been too young and too damaged. She’d needed a friend, not a lover. So he’d pushed those feelings to the back of his mind, and he’d kept her safe and kept her close, and he’d bided his time.
He could remember the exact moment he realized his friendship had turned to love. They’d been at his place, taking in a movie. Kim usually picked action films—lots of blood and guts—but somehow a romantic comedy had slipped through the net.
Watching the film with Kim sprawled on the sofa at his side, the sweet smell of toffee popcorn in the air, he’d had some sort of epiphany.
He’d be quite happy to spend the rest of his life beside her. Even watching chick flicks.
He’d always been restless—ready to move on, easily bored—but with Kim, he felt at peace. He loved her. Really loved her. Her bravery and her honesty, the way she stood up to him, the way she was willing to try to kick his ass when she thought he deserved it, even though she knew she couldn’t win.
He’d turned as the closing credits rolled over the screen, ready to pour out his heart. He’d opened his mouth to spill tender words of love—
“What a total load of bollocks,” she’d muttered with complete contempt. “If I ever show any signs of going all mushy like that, you have my permission to put a bullet in my brain. Not,” she added, taking a last mouthful of popcorn, “that it’s ever going to happen.”
That was four months ago. In the time since, he’d searched for a way to break through the protective armor she wrapped around herself. So far, he’d failed dismally. It was clear she saw him as nothing more than a friend. But when she started to show some interest in Steve, his new hire, he realized it was time to step up his game before he lost her altogether.
He hadn’t been able to think about sleeping with another woman since he’d realized he loved Kim. Nadia was nothing but camouflage to keep him from looking like a complete miserable bastard.
So no sex in over four months. Fucking hell.
Finally, the curtains opened, and Kim stood there as he’d never seen her before, glaring at him and looking breathtaking.
He didn’t take much of the dress in, just that it was black and that Jake could clearly make out the shape of her breasts beneath the material, small and perky.
She tugged at her long, dark ponytail—a sure sign she was nervous.
Ignoring him, she stalked out of the cubicle to stand in front of the full-length mirror opposite. The dress skimmed her narrow waist, her flat belly, and the slight curve of her ass. A stab of lust shot to his groin, and he shifted in his chair.
Smoothing the material over her hips, she flashed an unexpected grin over her shoulder. “Hey, I clean up okay.” She turned to one side, then the other. The dress was slit to the thigh and one long, slender leg peeked out. Her feet were bare. Jake stared, willing his desire to subside so his brain could function again.
“You know,” she murmured not quite to herself, “I bet Steve would love me in this dress.”