Had I known he was going to make me feel worse about myself, I’d have chosen somebody else. I didn’t need any help in that department. Scowling, I turned off my bedroom lights and made my way carefully down the steps.
Theo, who’d been looking at the painting over the fireplace again, turned to look at me and whistled. Was it horrible and anti-feminist that I liked it?
I tried to keep the frown on my face. “I need help with the zipper on this dress, please.”
“Of course.” His eyes were wide and glued to me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Wow. You are stunning.”
Surprised, I blinked at him. I don’t think I’d ever been called stunning before. Was this part of his act? “Thank you,” I said, a little uncertainly.
Turning around, I moved my hair so it wouldn’t get caught. When his hand touched my back, I felt a little tingle move up my spine. And was it me, or did he take an inordinately long time with the task, slowly moving the zipper to the top? The noise it made seemed to go on forever.
“Hold on, there’s a little hook thing, too.” He stepped closer to me—so close I felt his breath on the back of my neck as his fingers worked to get the tiny hook through the eye.
My heart beat wildly, and I had trouble swallowing. For God’s sake, Claire, he isn’t unzipping your dress! He’s doing it up! Get a grip! But something about the way he was performing the favor felt…erotic to me.
“Sorry,” he said. “My hands are too big. There! Got it.”
“Thanks.” I let my hair fall, but I couldn’t face him yet, so I walked over to the closet. Tried to sound breezy and casual. “You better drop me off at the door, or my legs will freeze.”
“Of course.”
Willing my face to cool, I pulled out my wool dress coat and turned around. Theo was staring at my legs.
“What now?” I asked, steeling myself for another critique. “Heels not high enough? Wrong color? Legs too pale?”
“No,” he said, his eyes traveling up to mine. “Everything about you is perfect.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I shoved one arm in my coat, embarrassed by the way I was blushing. What’s your problem? He probably says that to all his clients—it’s part of the job, to make them feel gorgeous and desirable and wanted. You’re not special.
“Here. Let me help.” Theo reached out and held the coat up as I slipped my other arm in.
“Thank you.” My fingers shook as I buttoned it up, and I had to concentrate hard on pushing each button through its hole, like a five-year-old.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier. Sometimes I say stuff without thinking.”
“It’s fine. You’re probably right about the dress.” Facing him, I pulled my dress gloves from the pockets of my coat. “My friends don’t like that dress either. Not sexy enough.”
“Not sexy at all.”
I shot him a dirty look, and he immediately looked contrite.
“Oops. Sorry.”
Sighing, I tugged on the gloves. “Don’t worry about it. The thing is, I don’t think it’s the dress that’s not sexy. I think it’s me.”
“You think you’re not sexy?”
Again, my cheeks burned. Why the hell had I said that? Closing my eyes, I held up one palm. “Look, just forget it. I’m not fishing for fake compliments tonight, OK? I know I’m paying you to lie to other people, but you don’t have to lie to me.”
He cocked his head. “So the critical stuff about yourself, you’ll believe, but the compliments must be a lie?”
It was so dead on, I wasn’t sure how to reply. But before I could think of what to say, he shook his head.
“Never mind. I promise not to lie to you tonight, Claire. Any compliment I give you is real.” His tone was quiet and serious. No smile teased at his mouth. “You’re beautiful and sexy. And I don’t know what kind of dumbasses you date for real, but if they don’t make you feel that way, then fuck them.”
There went those damn butterflies again. “Thank you. Um, you look nice, too.” Nice was an understatement, but I couldn’t think straight. Was he just flattering me? Or did he honestly think that? How was I supposed to know what was part of the act and what wasn’t?
Jesus, I need a glass of wine.
“Thank you.” Theo took his keys from his pocket. “Ready to do this?”
I shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Don’t be nervous. It’s gonna be great.”
“Three hundred dollars great?” I challenged as we went out the front door. I’d contracted Theo for the three-hour minimum, with a clause stipulating that I could extend it if I wanted to.
“Three million dollars great,” he said, offering his arm for me to hold onto as I navigated the icy front walk in heels. “In fact, you’re going to have so much fun tonight, you’ll think three hundred dollars was a bargain.”
I laughed as he led me to a black Ford SUV that looked at least five or six years old but had been washed for the occasion. He opened the passenger door for me and closed it again once I was in. At least he had manners. The reviewers hadn’t lied about that. And he was so tall and handsome—I couldn’t wait to walk into that reception on his arm. Everyone would whisper about me, and this time, it would be the right kind of whispering. I wouldn’t worry that they were laughing at me or pitying me—they’d envy me.