Fearless (14 page)

“It's beautiful,” I agree. “I wish it was permanent. What is it?”

He lightly traces the ink swirls across my abdomen with his finger and my stomach quivers at his touch.

“It's Cauac, the Mayan glyph or symbol for the storm which brings transformation and liberation. In the Mayan culture, the rainstorm transforms the fear of the unknown and allows you to step free of denying and judging your experience. It symbolizes freedom.”

I stare at him, both stunned and touched, and then kiss him full on the lips. No one has ever understood me the way he just has. “It's beautiful,” I say reverently. “And perfect. Thank you.” I pause. “How do you know Mayan symbols?”

“My father spent years in the Amazon. He made sure we were well versed in Mayan culture,” he says lightly.

He sets me on my feet and lightly swats my bottom.

“We're supposed to be at the costume shop at ten o'clock. I trust you aren't planning to wear that,” he says, nodding at my cropped t-shirt.

“What's wrong with it?” I ask innocently.

“Emma,” he says, and the sound of his voice, raspy and possessive, sets my pulse racing again.

“I'm going, I'm going,” I say, laughing as I go into the bedroom to take a shower.

An hour and a half later, after a brief stop at Beckett's apartment for him to shower and change clothes, we pull up outside a glass fronted brick building that appears to be deserted.

“This is the costume store?” I ask questioningly.

“It is,” Beckett says, coming around to open the door for me. He links hands with me. “They're normally closed on Saturdays.”

Before I can ask why the store owner has agreed to open for us, Beckett is ushering me inside. As the door closes behind us, I stand still in the immense space and look around, stunned. Costumes of all kinds hang from floor to ceiling. These aren't the cheesy costumes they carry at the stores Nikki and I peruse before Halloween. These are beautiful and elaborate, made of rich fabrics and rendered with such stunning detail they must cost a fortune. They seem to encompass every possible genre. I'm ogling a bejeweled Cleopatra dress when a slight man in his late twenties emerges from behind a rack of flashy, sequined flapper dresses.

“Gavin,” Beckett acknowledges solemnly, clasping the younger man's hand in a handshake. “Thanks for fixing us up on such short notice.”

“Certainly, Dr. Black,” Gavin practically gushes. “It is my pleasure sir. What can I do for you?”

“This is Emma. She has agreed to be my date at the last minute and is in need of a costume.”

The man turns to me and I offer my hand, smiling. “It's nice to meet you,” I say. “Thank you so much for helping me with a costume.”

Gavin shakes my hand and smiles back. “What exactly are you looking for?” he asks, looking from Beckett to me. I shrug and look at Beckett.

“Something medieval obviously, to fit the theme of the gala. And it should go with my costume.”

“Which is?” I prod curiously.

“For you to find out later,” he returns calmly.

I pout, and he leans over to kiss me.

“Why don't you look around while I speak with Gavin,” he suggests.

“I just need to get a few measurements,” Gavin interjects, whipping out a tape measure.

I wander around the store as soon as Gavin has finished measuring me, enthralled by the elaborate costumes. I'm trying on a genie veil when Beckett finds me.

“Beautiful and sexy, but unfortunately not what the evening calls for,” he says, wrapping his arms around me from behind and biting the back of my neck lightly. I lean into him. “Come on,” he says. “Gavin has pulled together some things for you to try on.”

So much for choosing my own outfit. But since I've never been to a gala, much less a medieval themed one, I suppose I should trust his judgment. I follow Beckett to the dressing area, which is a huge open space surrounded by four large dressing rooms that share a large three way mirror and a pedestal in the middle like the ones they have in bridal shops. Beckett holds back the thick drapery that serves as the dressing room door for me, letting it fall closed behind him as he steps inside behind me.

“You aren't staying in here while I try clothes on!” I protest.

“They had maids back then to help them get dressed for a reason,” he says mildly. “You're going to need help getting into these dresses. It's either me or him,” he adds, nodding his head toward the store where Gavin is.

“Fine,” I snap. “I'll take you.”

My complaints fade as I catch sight of the dresses hanging in the dressing room. There are at least a dozen of them and every single one is stunning. Some are made of rich fabrics in jewel tones, and others are ethereal and floaty.

“I think I've died and gone to dress up heaven,” I sigh. “I don't know where to start.”

Beckett chuckles. “You might start by stripping,” he suggests.

“Do I really need help getting dressed or do you just want to see me naked?” I grumble playfully.

“Both,” he says as he casually leans against the wall, watching me undress with appreciative eyes.

“Alright, which one first?” I say, turning to him now that I'm stripped down to my bra and panties.

“Take it all off, Angel,” he drawls. “You can't get medieval cleavage with a twenty-first century bra.”

“Are you serious?” I gape at him and then turn my back to him, slipping off my bra. He gently turns me so that I am facing him.

“How can you hide from me still?” he asks gently. “You're beautiful.” His knuckles skim over my nipples which harden in response. “Do you need me to remind you?”

“Old habits, I guess,” I say, slowly lifting my gaze to his.

“Maybe I'll make you spend an entire weekend naked until you get comfortable with me seeing your body.”

He laughs at the expression on my face.

“Here,” he says, handing me a white, short-sleeved, gypsy-style blouse with puffy sleeves.

“This is a chemise, right?” I ask. I've read about these. I slip it on, followed by a full black skirt with a layer of red over it that he hands to me, and tuck the blouse into the waistband of the skirt. “Now what?”

He holds up what looks like a beautiful brocade bustier that's missing the top portion. “The corset. It's a staple of medieval and renaissance outfits. Turn around and I'll help you lace it.”

I turn and he places the bustier around my mid-section, just under my breasts. “Ummm, what kind of party is this?” I ask as he pulls the laces tight, forcing my breasts up so that they look like they might spill over the top of the blouse.

Ignoring me, he says, “Is that too tight?”

I shake my head. He turns me so I can see myself in the mirror. I look at my reflection, stunned. Coupled with the full, dark skirts, the corset makes my waist look tiny and my breasts several sizes larger, and although I'm not sure how comfortable I would feel actually wearing this revealing of an outfit in public, I have to admit that the jewel tones perfectly offset my dark hair and fair skin.

“Wow,” I say. “I can see why women wore corsets over their clothes.”

“I'd personally like to see it without the clothes,” he offers.

I smile at him flirtatiously. “I'll keep that in mind,” I say, echoing his words from earlier. “But I'm afraid I'll have a wardrobe malfunction in this.”

Next, I try on a sage green dress with bell sleeves topped with a black overskirt and a black corset that laces up the front, and then another one with a black velvet skirt and black and gold striped under bust corset. Shopping with Beckett is as good as shopping with any of my girlfriends; he uncomplainingly hands me dress after dress and laces up the corsets for me. I'm surprised by how easy it is to be with him.

After I try on two more dresses, one sapphire blue and the other a dramatic red and black, he says, “You've tried on all of the types of dresses the nobility would have worn. Want to try something a little more daring?”

“Bring it!” I say with a laugh. Beckett smiles and the warmth of it spreads through me.

I try on a gypsy outfit that has a brightly colored skirt with a coin belt and a halter top that bares my midriff, and I admire my temporary tattoo in the mirror. “I don't think gypsies had tattooed stomachs,” he says.

“Then this one's out, because I'm not taking it off,” I say.

Next I try a simple tavern wench outfit that's actually pretty comfortable but Beckett nixes it, although he won't tell me why. I try on a pirate costume with black velvet knee breeches, a white blouse, a bronze corset, and a pirate hat, followed by a fairy dress made of gossamer light layers of pink and purple with silvery wings. They are all so beautiful my head is starting to spin.

We have just stepped outside of the dressing room so I can see myself in the three way mirror when Beckett's phone rings. He glances at the screen and says with a frown, “It's my answering service. Let me take care of this. I'll be right back.”

“That is one fine specimen of a man,” Gavin whistles appreciatively as Beckett strides out of the dressing area.

I laugh. I had been fairly certain Gavin was gay, but his heartfelt statement, which pretty much echoes exactly what I was thinking, confirms it. I can't blame him. Beckett is one of the most virile and masculine men I have ever met.

“I'll bet he's a demanding master,” he says wistfully.

I look at him, puzzled. “I guess that's one way to put it,” I say drily.

“You know, I'm not sure I've ever seen him smile until today,” he adds thoughtfully.

“Really?” I say. I'm liking Gavin more and more. I also realize I could really use his input. “I'm a little nervous about this gala tonight,” I confess. “Which dress do you think I should wear?”

“Which one do you like the best?”

I sink down into one of the chairs. “I don't know,” I moan. “They're all so fabulous I can't decide. How do you even work here? Do you take a different costume home for every night you go out?”

“Sometimes,” he says with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and I burst out laughing. He and Lainey would adore each other.

“Stand up,” he instructs. “Let me see that one.”

I stand and spin around slowly while Gavin studies me thoughtfully. “You have to figure out your party persona,” he says. “Do you want to be elegant, ethereal, sexy, tongue in cheek?”

“I don't think sexy or tongue in cheek is a good idea. I don't want to stand out in the wrong way. I'm guessing everyone will be dressed in elegant gowns, so that's probably what I should go with. It doesn't help that I have no idea what Beckett's costume is,” I grumble.

“Ah, but I do,” Gavin says conspiratorially. “I've got an idea. Wait here.”

He returns shortly with an armload of rich purple fabric. I follow him as he carries it into my dressing room.

“Put this on and then come out and I'll help you put the corset on.”

Alone in the dressing room, I take off the fairy gown and slip on the one Gavin brought in. The silken fabric is so soft that it caresses my skin as it hugs my curves gently. It has a slightly straighter and more fitted skirt that the other gowns I have tried on, and unlike the others, this one is strapless, baring my arms and shoulders. Even without the corset, it accentuates all of my curves. I step out of the dressing room and Gavin whistles appreciatively.

“Don't peek,” he says, settling the corset over the dress and lacing it up expertly. “Okay, now look.”

I turn so that I can see my reflection in the mirror and gasp. I barely recognize myself. The purple dress, accentuated with the deeper purple corset encrusted with tiny shimmering jewels, makes me look like a princess. Gavin claps his hands excitedly.

“What do you think?” he practically squeals.

“It's perfect!” I say reverently. “How is it possible that you still have this one?”

“No one else has seen it because I just finished it,” Gavin says confidentially. “But it looks absolutely divine on you. Please say you'll wear it.”

“Of course I'll wear it!” I say, impulsively throwing my arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He smiles, looking pleased. “If you take it off now, Dr. Black won't see it and you can surprise him.”

“I like the way you think,” I say with a smile. I wait patiently as Gavin unlaces the corset and then I quickly take the dress off, handing it out the curtain to Gavin. I put my own clothes back on and meet him back in the dressing area.

We're discussing what I should do with my hair when Beckett returns.

“Did you choose one?” he asks, surprised.

“Yes, but I'm not going to tell you which one,” I say teasingly. “Two can play that game.”

“Is that so?” he says, his gaze inscrutable.

“Yes!” I say flippantly. “But it has Gavin's seal of approval so you can rest assured it's appropriate.”

Beckett glances at Gavin and then shakes his head at me. “Alright,” he concedes. Turning to Gavin he says, “Have it delivered to my place along with my costume this afternoon.”

“Actually, I'd like mine to go to my place so I can get ready there,” I say.

“You'll get ready at my place,” Beckett states.

“No I won't!” I protest. “Everything I need is at my house. I want to get ready there.”

“Emmaline,” Beckett says dangerously. “If you continue to argue with me you will get that spanking you were so eager for last night.”

“Not here!” My face flushes as I realize Gavin is still standing there.

“Yes, here,” he affirms. I look at him closely. He looks dead serious.

Gavin is watching our exchange like it's a tennis match.

“This is one of those areas where you're going to have to compromise,” I say. I'm not going to give in on this one, no matter how much he scowls at me. “Looking perfect for you tonight is important to me. I don't want to have to pack up everything I might possibly need for my hair and makeup.”