“I’m ready.”
He turned and looked down at her feet, then frowned. “Heels? We’re in Florida. You need sandals.”
She gave him a disdainful pfft. “Honey, I live in heels.”
“Not on the beach, you don’t.”
“Try me.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
He drove her to one of the nice Palm Beach malls. Everything was outside, the sun was shining, and tall palm trees lined the walkway.
Now they were in her element—shopping. She breezed in and out of a few stores, picking up a few pairs of Capri pants and some shoes, underwear and sundresses.
Gavin laid back and held bags for her while she went on a tear. She knew herself, knew what she liked and what looked good on her. She didn’t really own that much resort wear since she never took much downtime. These would all be new things for her.
He paid particular attention in the upscale lingerie shop, of course, his eyes gleaming when she fingered the sexy and sinful bras and panties. Armed with several items, she stood in front of him at the counter.
“I’m not paying a fortune for new lingerie if you’re just going to ruin it by ripping it off me.”
The saleswoman behind the cash register gaped at them. Elizabeth didn’t care.
Gavin took the bundle from her hand, laid them on the counter, and whipped out his credit card. “No guarantees of that. You look smokin’ hot in this stuff. If we ruin them all, we’ll just come back for more.”
She shrugged. “It’s your dime.”
That saleswoman would have plenty to gossip about after they left.
The temperature in the store rose a few degrees, and Elizabeth took a step back, irritated by the hardening of her traitorous nipples. The young saleswoman shot Gavin a look of pure lust, but he kept his gaze on Elizabeth.
Fine. Score a point for Gavin.
“You need something sexy to wear when we go out at night.”
“We’re going out at night? Where to?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll take you dancing.”
She ignored the tiny little thrill at the thought of being in Gavin’s arms while he toured her around a dance floor. “I thought you just wanted to fuck me.”
He stopped and slid his finger across her cheek. “I do. I will. But we have to come up for air and leave the beach house. You want to have some fun outside the bedroom, don’t you?”
Something fluttered in her belly, something that felt an awful lot like stirrings of emotion. “Gavin, why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“This. Keeping me here with you. Shopping with me. Talking of going out places. I don’t get it.”
He directed her into a store. “Quit asking questions.”
He motioned to one of the saleswomen. “She likes black. So anything but black.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Definitely lots of things in black for me.”
She selected several black cocktail dresses, but by the time she went into the dressing room, they were gone, replaced instead by a red dress, a champagne-colored dress, and another in a soft burgundy.
“These are the wrong dresses,” she said to the saleswoman.
“Your gentleman selected these. Said for you to give in and try them on.”
She rolled her eyes, but the dresses were pretty, so she put one on. The red one first, which she paraded for him. He shook his head so she tried the burgundy one next.
“Nice, but not good enough.”
She put her hands on her hips. “This is why I go for the black dresses. They always work.”
He smiled at her. “Go put the last one on.”
She flounced off to the dressing room, determined to prove him wrong. The champagne dress was fitted, had thin straps, and hugged every single one of her curves. She looked at herself in the mirror and was stunned at how the color accentuated her hair and her skin tone. She would have never thought to go with a color like this.
She came out of the dressing room, and Gavin’s eyes rocketed to her.
He stood, came over to her, and turned her to face the mirror. His fingers grazed her shoulders.
“You’re beautiful, Elizabeth. The dress makes your hair look like fire.”
She’d been told she was beautiful before, but they had been surface compliments. Gavin spoke with his eyes, the way they raked over not only her body, but her hair, her face. His eyes meet hers. The warmth she saw there . . .
Was entirely her imagination.
“Thanks. I guess it’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay. It gives you a sweet innocence instead of the hard edge you always go for when you wear black. I’m getting this dress for you.” He signaled to the saleswoman. “This one.”
“Yes, sir.”
Men didn’t buy her clothes. She was independent, had more than enough money to buy her own things. Anything she wanted. That’s why she’d worked so damn hard the past ten years, so she could be independent.
Never dependent again.