Carling jerked to a stop so abruptly she nearly fell off her boots.
He was standing in profile by the bed, in the process of buttoning up what looked to be a hand-stitched shirt that molded to his powerful, lean muscled torso. Clothes hangers and tags littered the top of the nearby dresser. The black highlighted his bronzed skin, and the rich coppery and gold highlights in his hair. The chic cut to the linen trousers emphasized his long, graceful legs. A matching suit jacket hung off the bedroom doorknob. No matter how deplorably he dressed, nothing could disguise the fact that he was already elegantly made and handsome, but these clothes lent him an air of sophisticated severity that came so far out of left field she felt sucker punched all over again.
Her mouth worked. It might be time to say something again. Was it her turn in the conversation? She couldn’t remember.
“Uh,” she said.
“What’s wrong, darling? Are the boots not comfortable?” Rune asked. He turned toward her, frowning, and his eyes widened. “Well, I knew it had to be good,” he murmured. “The reality is so much better than I imagined.”
“You, um,” she said.
“I, what?” He bent to pick up something at his feet. It was another shopping bag.
“You didn’t dress the way you usually do.”
“I wanted to look nice for you.” He walked toward her, his big swordsman’s body flowing like a panther’s.
He had thrown away his T-shirt and dressed up for her. Her voice came out all husky and wrong, as she accused, “You said you were going to buy yourself new jeans.”
“I did that too,” Rune said. He stopped in front of her and let his gaze travel down the length of her body. A quiet smile touched the corners of his well-cut mouth.
Before she knew it, she heard herself ask, “What do you think?”
“I love it,” he said. “But the important question is, what do you think? Do the boots fit? Is the outfit comfortable?”
“It is, actually.” She scratched her fingers through her strange, short hair. “I’m just surprised. This isn’t what I was expecting.”
His gaze searched hers. “Do you like it?”
She looked down at herself as well. “I do. I’m not sure it’s me though.”
“It can be you if you want it to be,” said the tempter from the Garden of Eden. “Sometimes, you know, as a mood thing.” He held up a finger. “Wait, don’t make up your mind yet. We’re not done.”
She pursed her lips. “What do you mean, we’re not done?”
His eyes smiled into hers. “Humor me for a while longer. Please? It won’t hurt. It’s just for fun. And this time it’s not even wicked or bad,” said the voice of original sin. “And you might even like it as well.”
Fun. There was that word again, that incomprehensible, three-letter word. His eyes were so warm and inviting, as warm as his body, and more compelling than any fire. It was so easy to indulge him when he coaxed, she found herself smiling back. “Whatever. Just, fine.”
“Thank you, Carling,” he murmured. He kissed her lightly and took her by the hand, and she found herself going back into the bathroom with him. He coaxed her into sitting on the counter. Then he dumped the contents of the shopping bag onto the counter beside her. She looked down at a pile of Guerlain cosmetics and burst out laughing.
Rune opened up a palette of eye color and held it up to her face, considering. He nodded and set it aside.
“You’ve got to be joking,” she said.
Next he opened a blusher compact, held it up to her face, and considered again. He squinted an eye, shrugged then set the blusher aside.
“Rune,” Carling said, staring at him. She had no words to describe the incredulity she felt.
“What?” He gave her that sleepy, dangerous smile. “You said you’d humor me,” he said. “So humor me.”
Carling said, “But I have phone calls to make.”
“Seremela is on her way, the Djinn is working on his task, and any phone calls that need to be made can wait fifteen minutes.” As she struggled to find some argument, Rune raised an eyebrow. “Am I right?”
She heaved a put-upon sigh, because really, sometimes there was just no other way to communicate something.
“I know,” he soothed as he opened a packet containing a sable brush. “High-heeled boots, jeans and now this. It’s all so very hard to take.”
“You have no idea,” she muttered.
“Hush. Now close your eyes.”