She turned, looking over her shoulder at the mirror for the rear view. The sight of the bustle made her want to laugh. She finished the turn.
"Excellent. Now, you'll want another walking dress, and a dinner gown, and a theater gown—"
"Let's not get carried away," Annabel interrupted Mellisande's enthusiasm. "I don't want to get so far in debt to Mr. Brady that I can never pay him back."
Mellisande waved an elegantly manicured hand. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, dear. I can't imagine a gentleman such as Cole pressing a young lady for money. He's hardly the type. In fact, you won't find a more stalwart young man in San Francisco." Mellisande laughed lightly and added, "Besides, a beautiful young woman such as yourself can always trade in a different sort of currency, shall we say."
"No," Annabel snapped. "We shall not say."
"Of course not," Mellisande murmured, a little taken aback by the sharpness of Annabel's reaction. "I didn't mean to imply anything, my dear. It's just that you don't have to worry about Mr. Brady's finances. He's quite well-to-do. Although I'm sure you know that about him already."
"On a fireman's salary?"
"Oh, my dear." Mellisande looked at her in surprise. "Do you mean to tell me you don't know about Brady Enterprises?"
Annabel shook her head. "I'd never met Mr. Brady before this afternoon." To tell the truth, there was a great deal she didn't know about him . . . but she suddenly realized, to her surprise, that she wanted to know more.
"Well, then, I shall simply have to inform you that you have been befriended by one of the wealthiest young men in San Francisco. Brady Enterprises owns some of the most valuable real estate in the city, including many of the warehouses along the docks."
That news made Annabel suck in her breath, sort of like the corset had done. She had already seen enough to know that Cole was known and respected around town, but he had told her that was because San Franciscans valued their firemen so highly. That might be part of the reason people treated him as they did, she thought, but money was a more logical explanation.
"You honestly didn't know, did you?" Mellisande asked.
Annabel shook her head. "No, I didn't. Why in the world . . . If he's so rich, why does he work as a fireman?"
Mellisande rolled her eyes, shook her head, and said, "Because, for some completely unfathomable reason, he likes being a fireman."
****
The hour's walk had made Cole feel better. He had nodded to a dozen or more acquaintances as he strolled along the hilly streets. Once he had even found himself near Chinatown, but he had stopped before venturing into that quarter. It wasn't that he was afraid of Wing Ko's men; he just didn't believe in asking for trouble.
Now, as he approached Miss Mellisande's Emporium, he found himself looking forward to seeing Annabel again. He had missed her—difficult to believe given he'd been totally unaware of her existence until today, but true. Something had seemed to be missing the entire time he was apart from her.
The little bell above the door chimed again as he went inside. Mellisande Dupree bustled out through the curtain that closed off the rear of the shop. "Cole!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're back. Are you prepared?"
He frowned a little. "Prepared for what?"
'To be dazzled," Mellisande said with a smile. She laughed and turned, clapped her hands together twice, then swept the curtain aside.
Annabel walked into the front room and stood there rather stiffly, as if she were unaccustomed to posing. Cole's eyes grew larger as he looked at her taking in everything from the brown hat on her head to the high-topped, pearl-buttoned shoes on her feet. The strange yellow overalls and the work boots were gone. Her long brown hair, which had hung thick and luxurious down her back, was now carefully arranged atop her head. She was still beautiful, but she looked so different that he might not have recognized her had he not known it was her. He could have passed her on the street without taking any more notice of her than he did of the thousands of other pretty girls in San Francisco.
That is, he could have if it hadn't been for her eyes. Those had not changed. They were still rich and brown and sensuous, still intelligent and alert and challenging. Cole met their gaze squarely and murmured, "My God, it is you, isn't it?"
"Do you like it?" Annabel asked. Her tone told him that she cared what his answer was going to be.
"Of course he likes it," Mellisande said without giving Cole a chance to open his mouth. "What man wouldn't like a dress such as this on such a lovely young woman? She is lovely, isn't she, Mr. Brady?"
"Very much so," Cole said. "The belle of the ball."
Mellisande shook her head. "Oh, no. This isn't the ball gown. This is just a simple walking dress." She fluttered a hand toward the back room. "We have all the ballroom accoutrements boxed up and ready to be delivered, however, as well as an excellent selection of other evening wear and everyday clothing. I knew you wouldn't wish to skimp on anything."