Libby twirled a finger in the air, indicating Shelby should spin. She complied, and Libby clapped her hands, gave a little squee of excitement. “It’s perfect. I wish I could be there to see Reece’s reaction. He’s going to swallow his tongue. And probably want to peel you out of it first chance he gets.”
“You think?” Warmth gathered in her belly and spread downward as she studied her reflection again in the three-way mirror. She pictured his long, graceful fingers pulling down the side zipper, his lips tracing the line of flesh he uncovered. Oh, the man was a god with those lips but, despite last night, he was still too restrained. He was still holding back from that darkness she so desperately wanted to see him unleash.
She smoothed a hand down the front of the dress. Would this be the thing to finally snap his control?
Libby laughed. “You’re thinking dirty thoughts.”
“What?” Her cheeks were hot, and not from embarrassment. She fanned them, told herself to chill with the X-rated fantasies of Reece. “No. I’m not looking for a dress to impress him.”
“Oh, c’mon. Fess up. You so are.” A dreamy look crossed Libby’s pretty features. “And when your man sees you for the first time in a dress you picked out just for him…whew.”
“Now who’s thinking dirty thoughts?”
Libby shrugged, unapologetic. “You’ve seen my husband. The long hair, pretty blue eyes, roguish smile, and that body of his…mmm. How could I not have dirty thoughts?”
Shelby laughed and shook her head. “Reece is not my man.”
“Uh, you’re married to him. That pretty much means he’s yours and you’re his.”
“Yes, but it’s not the same. It’s not like you and Jude or Cam and Eva. It’s…complicated.” She turned back to the mirror and pouted. She really liked this dress. “I’m not going to get it.”
“No, no, no, no. I’m here as your personal style consultant and I’m telling you it’s perfect. You’re getting it. Now march your thin self back in there and try on the other one.”
An hour later, Shelby had the lace cocktail dress and the long black gown because, after trying it on, she hadn’t been able to pass that one up, either, although it needed hemming. She also had several pairs of slacks, a few modest pencil skirts, sweaters, and blouses. Except for the dresses, none of it was her style, but it fit the persona of the new Mrs. Wilde, wife of a successful businessman. And Libby did have good taste, so even if it wasn’t anything she’d normally wear, she wasn’t going to look matronly or frumpy.
She cringed when the cashier rattled off the total. Oh, that hurt, but she refused to take a cent from Reece and bypassed the card he gave her in favor of her own credit card. She gathered her bags and waited while Libby paid for the two dresses she’d found. Then, together, buzzing from the shopping high, they headed for the door.
“This was fun—” As Shelby turned to thank Libby for all of her help, she realized she’d lost her shopping companion somewhere between the register and door. She backtracked and found Libby standing in front of the infant section, staring longingly at a display of tiny shoes.
Shelby glanced from Libby’s face to the booties and back. That was the look of a woman with a secret. “Libby, are you…?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice cracking. “I thought I was for about a week, but no.”
“You want to be, don’t you?”
“So much.” She picked up one pair of booties and caressed them in the tender way only a woman desperately wanting a child could. “Jude and I both want a baby. We’ve been trying since our wedding night.”
“It’s only been a few months.”
Libby sighed. “I know. I just thought it’d happen right away.” She started to put the booties down, but Shelby stopped her.
“No. You’re going to buy them.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“They’ll be your good luck charm for next month. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you have the booties, you’ll have to have a baby to wear them.”
“You know what? You’re right.” Libby hugged the booties to her chest. “I’m buying them.”
Shelby waited with her while she bought the booties, then they walked out of the store together. Before they parted ways in the parking lot, Libby pulled her in for a quick hug. “Welcome to the family, Shelby.”
Chapter Thirteen
Reece was exhausted. He wanted to go home after leaving DMW for the day, but he’d promised Vaughn he’d look into Lark Warren’s financials, and he had several hours before the dinner party tonight. Might as well spend them helping his brother.
And, he decided as he drove by the burned-out husk of The Bean Gallery, he wanted his brothers investigating the arson. Something about it sat like coal in his gut. It didn’t add up and, as a numbers guy, he hated when things didn’t add up.