Surrender in Silk (16 page)

For a single heartbeat, he allowed himself to think about what it would mean to have a child of his own. Someone who loved him and trusted him because he’d always been there, done the right thing. Then he pushed away the fantasy. He wouldn’t always be there and he wouldn’t know how to do the right thing. In the end, he would be dangerous for the child. Not because he wanted to, but because one day he wouldn’t be able to keep perfect control. One day the demons inside would escape, and everyone around him would be destroyed. He refused to risk hurting anyone he cared about.

Jamie released him and took a step toward the next enclosure. Zach grabbed her hand and followed.

“It’s so weird,” she said when they were staring at a pair of black bears. “That woman was probably a couple of years younger than me and she’s already got two kids. I bet a lot of the girls I went to high school with are married with families.”

“If they knew what you had done with your life, they would envy you.”

She leaned forward on the railing. “You think so? I’m not so sure. I mean it’s hardly glamorous.”

“Not James Bond?” he teased.

“Exactly. Sometimes I think about going back and making other choices.”

“What would they be?”

She scrunched her nose up as she thought. “Maybe I’d be a barrel racer instead.” She laughed. “Or a pilot. I always wanted to learn how to fly. I could have been a scientist.”

“I can’t see you trapped in some lab all day.”

“Me, either. I’m not conventional enough. But sometimes I wonder what it must be like to have regular goals, to live a perfectly ordinary life.” She straightened and smiled. “I knew girls who wanted to be cheerleaders or the homecoming queen. I never went to a dance my whole life. I don’t even know how to dance.”

“It’s not so hard.”

She looked startled. “You can dance?”

“I get by. An undercover assignment put me in an embassy once. It’s a real party circuit. I learned how to dance to protect my cover.”

“You mean like the tango?”

“No. I do simple stuff. Waltzes, fox-trot, even a pretty mean Texas two-step.”

She laughed. “Every time I think I know everything about you, you surprise me. What other secrets are trapped inside?” She placed her hand against his chest.

He grabbed her fingers and bent down, then kissed her palm. Her smile faded, but a hot light burned in her eyes.

“No more secrets,” he said, and knew it was a lie. He had plenty—they both did—but it was easier to pretend there was nothing left to hide.

Jamie turned and leaned her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. Although he’d had short-term relationships with women before, no one had touched him the way she did. No one made him want more than was safe.

She’d done more than save his life by rescuing him. She’d also come to the cabin to make sure he got better. In return, he wanted to give her something special. Jamie wasn’t the kind to appreciate an expensive bauble, so he would have to think of something else. Something that could never fade or be lost. Something precious, like the memory of their time together.

He was getting stronger every day. Eventually he would have to go back. It was, he told himself, a great-sounding concept that had its basis in deceit. He wasn’t willing to give Jamie the one thing she wanted—the truth. He wouldn’t even give her something real and lasting. Instead, he was going to show her a good time. When had he become a low-life bastard?

She turned her head slightly and nuzzled his neck. The moist heat of her kiss aroused him. Her position left her off balance, but she trusted him to keep her upright. Just like the child with her father. Implicit trust—when the hell had he earned that?

If he was any kind of a man, he would tell her what she wanted to know. He would explore the emotions he’d seen flickering through her eyes. He would risk some feelings of his own. If he was any kind of a man, he would tell her—

Tell her what? He didn’t have the answers. Truth was a relative term. The only thing he knew for sure was that when the time came, he was going to let Jamie go. Because it was right for her, because he didn’t deserve any better.

“B
ut why?” Jamie asked, then realized her voice sounded uncomfortably close to a whine. She couldn’t help it. She really, really didn’t want to do this.

“It will be fun.”

She stared at the elegant lettering on the front of the upscale boutique and shook her head. “No, it won’t. It’s physically impossible to have fun while shopping.”

Zach smiled. “And here I thought all females loved to shop.”

“I’m not like other females. That’s the whole problem. I never learned how. I don’t have the shopping gene. I don’t know what’s in style or what looks good on me. Please don’t make me do this.”

She stared up at him and begged silently. His eyes darkened with something that looked like compassion. She didn’t care if he thought she was crazy or even if he pitied her. At this point, she would take a month in prison rather than face going into the store in front of them. She couldn’t do it again. Her
last shopping trip, an impulsive stop she’d made on her way from the airport to the cabin, had been a disaster. She’d bought that hideous frilly blouse and full skirt. Just thinking about how awful she’d looked made her shudder. She wanted to burn those clothes and all clothes like them.

She glanced down at her casual attire of jeans, a shirt and a blazer. This was as feminine as she was likely to get.

“I thought you wanted to find balance,” Zach reminded her. “Shopping is a part of being normal.”

She grimaced. “I thought you were going to say shopping is a part of being female.”

“I have a lot of flaws, but sexism isn’t one of them.”

She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t want to.”

“I know, but it will be good for you.”

He took her arm and started to pull her toward the store. She resisted, wishing they were standing on soft earth instead of a concrete sidewalk so she could really dig her heels in.

“Jamie.” He sounded impatient.

“Just tell me why I have to do this.”

“Because we’re going out to a nice restaurant tonight, and you don’t have the right clothes.”

She fingered the lapel of her blazer. “I look fine.”

“You look great, but you’ll look even better with a cocktail dress. If you behave, I’ll even give you a surprise later.”

That caught her attention. She wondered if this surprise would take place in bed. They hadn’t been intimate since arriving in the city. Although her body was still pleasantly sated from their time at the cabin, she wouldn’t complain about a repeat performance.

“What’s the surprise?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“I want to know now.”

He glared at her. “Have you always been this stubborn?”

She nodded once. “It’s my best quality.”

“Sanders, get your butt in the store. Now!”

There didn’t seem to be any way of talking him out of the situation, so she gathered the little dignity she had left, pulled her arm free of his grasp and pushed open the glass door.

The interior was terrifying enough to make her knees quake. Frighteningly elegant furnishings, complete with antiques, subtle lighting and carpet thick enough to hide a cat. The pale walls were a neutral but warm color between white and gray. Racks of clothes stood in small collections. Jamie couldn’t tell if they were bunched by size, function or color. In her entire thirty years, she’d never been in a place like this.

There were other women shopping. Well-dressed women in coordinated outfits. Pants with fitted jackets, dresses with stockings and high heels. Well made-up women who wore jewelry and scarves and probably had an entire dresser covered with perfume bottles.

Jamie felt as if she were from another planet. A place where ugly, stupid people hid out until they were forced into landing on earth. She knew the saleswoman and other customers were going to know instantly she was inept. If she was lucky, they would just throw her back into the street and tell her to come back when she knew what she was doing.

“May I help you?”

She spun toward the voice, feeling oddly guilty, as if she’d been caught reading someone else’s mail.

“No,” she said quickly.

“Yes,” Zach said just as fast. He frowned at her, then turned his attention to the clerk. “We’re looking for a cocktail dress.”

The woman was in her midforties, with perfect, pale skin and red hair swept back into some kind of twist-bun-looking style. Jamie was sure it had an unpronounceable French name. The clerk glanced between the two of them, but her gaze never dipped below the neck. If she noticed Jamie was dressed worse than the cleaning lady, she didn’t let on.

“This way,” she said, and turned toward the back of the store.

She was dressed all in black. Slim dress, stockings and midsize pumps. Jamie wondered how she kept from falling on the thick carpet.

She walked to a gilded arch, then motioned with one outstretched arm. “Our evening wear is here. May I show you a few things, or do you know what you want?”

“I just want to look around,” Jamie muttered. It was humiliating enough that she had to find something to wear. She didn’t need witnesses.

“Very well. My name is Monique. Please let me know if I can be of assistance.”

She left them alone.

Jamie stared at all the fancy dresses. She didn’t know where to begin. “What did you have in mind?” she asked.

Zach shrugged. “Something pretty. Are you going to be okay by yourself? I have to go talk to Monique.”

She looked at him. “You’re leaving me here?”

“Is that a problem?”

She would rather be in a roomful of snakes. “No problem,” she said tightly. “I’ll be fine.” She’d been alone on mountaintops in hostile territory and survived. She could do this. Of course, on the mountaintop she’d had a gun.

She pressed her lips together when Zach actually smiled at her and walked away, leaving her in the torture house of beads and baubles. Damn him.

She fought against a feeling of helplessness. She didn’t know what to do or what to buy. She didn’t even know exactly what size she would wear in this expensive boutique. Were designer clothes bigger or smaller or the same? She vaguely recalled overhearing a conversation on the subject once, years before, but she couldn’t remember the details. She hadn’t been interested.

She circled one of the larger racks, trying to gather her
courage. Thousands, millions, of women bought clothes every day. How hard could it be?

She focused on the clothing. There were mostly dresses. She saw a couple of pants outfits but didn’t think that was what Zach had in mind. She stared at the different fabrics, some soft, some beaded, some sequined, some smooth. There were too many choices.

Finally she thrust her hand in and grabbed a dress. It looked short, maybe too short. It had broad, padded shoulders, a deep neckline and lots of hanging beads. What she liked most was the color. A pale cream at the top, darkening to the color of fire at the bottom, as if the garment were a flicker of flame. She walked to the three-way mirror and held the dress up to herself.

Her eyes changed to a muddy shade of gray. All the color left her face, and her mouth looked small and pinched. She stared in astonishment, then put the dress out to one side. The color returned to her face, and her eyes were once again a pleasing shade of hazel. With the dress close to her face, she looked as if she were coming down with malaria. Without it she was fine.

“Obviously not my best color,” she said softly, and put the dress back. She felt oddly pleased, as if she’d just made an amazing discovery.

She reached for another garment. This was a two-piece outfit, a tapestry jacket with a long, soft, flowing purple skirt. Pretty, just as Zach had requested.

She returned to the mirror and held it up to her face. Her eyes deepened to blue, and her skin took on a luminous sheen. “Perfect,” she said, and glanced around for a dressing room.

Several gilded doors stood at the far end of the room. Jamie approached them cautiously, bending over to make sure one was empty before pulling on the handle.

The dressing room was nearly as large as their bedroom back at the hotel. There were mirrors on three walls, a small
vanity, a wing chair and a long rod for the clothing. She hung her single dress there and tried not to think about having to go out and find something else. Surely this was going to work. Then she could pay for it and leave.

She quickly stripped down to her bra and panties. The plain cotton undergarments looked out of place in the elegant surroundings. She reached for the skirt and stepped into it. The button at her waist was a little loose. Maybe she needed a smaller size. She glanced in the mirror and smiled.

The filmy skirt fluttered around her legs like Monet’s water lilies come to life. The beautiful fabric made her feel special, feminine even. She looked at the hem falling halfway down her calves. What kind of shoes would she wear with this?

She didn’t have a clue, so she pushed the question aside and shrugged into the tapestry jacket. It was also too loose. She buttoned it up the front and stared at her reflection. She looked boxy and formless in the thick jacket. Her head seemed to shrink, and she felt old.

“It’s the fit,” she said, frustrated that something so pretty on the hanger would look so ugly on her. She reached behind her and grabbed a handful of fabric, pulling the jacket tighter in front. It still looked bad.

She sank into the chair and dropped her head into her hands. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t do it. She didn’t know how to shop or buy. She could spot jeans that would fit from halfway across a store, but real clothes were beyond her. She would have to tell Zach she was hopeless.

Her eyes began to burn, but she blinked the sensation away. This was a really stupid thing to cry about.

There was a knock at the door. “Jamie, it’s Monique. Your young man suggested I check on you. How is everything?”

She opened her mouth to lie but instead blurted out the truth. “Horrible. I look like a geek.”

Monique opened the door and stepped inside with a surprisingly kind smile. “No geeks are allowed in the store.
Didn’t you see the sign? Only beautiful women. If they aren’t beautiful when they come in, they’re beautiful when they leave.”

She motioned for Jamie to stand up, then walked around her in a slow circle. “This is all wrong for you.”

“I know.”

Monique wasn’t listening. “Very nice color, but the style, the shape. It hides what you should flaunt. This—” she touched the thick sleeve “—this is for the romantic type. The woman who is all soft lines and ruffles. Not you. Take off the dress and let me see what we’re working with.”

Jamie undressed quickly. Monique studied her for a second and sighed. “You work out, don’t you? You’re in fabulous shape. Flaunt it while you still have it.” She patted her own narrow hips. “Time and gravity are not our friends. Stay right here.”

She threw the tapestry jacket and filmy skirt over her arm and disappeared. Less than a minute later, she was back with a little black dress—
little
being the key word. It didn’t look big enough to fit a dress-up doll, let alone a grown woman.

“It’s too small,” Jamie said.

“It stretches,” Monique told her. “Trust me.”

She set the dress on the hook, then tossed Jamie a black teddy in silk. “The key to a good fit is the right foundation.”

Jamie stared at the teddy. It had an underwire bra built in that looked more like scraps of silk cloth than actual support. But Monique was the expert.

Jamie put on the teddy. It was a low cut, as she expected. The silk came up over her nipples and stopped. The design was different than she was used to, forcing her breasts together and up, giving her more cleavage than was legal. So much for not having support. The rest of the undergarment slipped over her torso like a lover’s touch.

“Are you sure about this?” Jamie stroked the soft fabric. It felt positively decadent. She loved it!

Monique just smiled.

Next came the dress. She pulled it on over her head. The stretch material clung to her like a wet shower curtain. She pulled the hem down and found it ended a good eight inches above her knees.

Monique stepped behind her and pulled up the zipper, then smoothed her hair down the center of her back. “You see. It’s perfect.”

Jamie stared at her reflection, not quite willing to believe what she saw.

The dress hugged every curve. She looked like a model, all long legs and cleavage. Her breasts threatened to spill out of the heart-shaped neckline. The black lace was see-through on her arms, but lined everywhere else. She looked like someone other people would turn to stare at.

“I’ll take it,” she said without thinking, then giggled.

“I thought you might. Do you have shoes?”

Jamie shook her head. “I don’t have stockings, either.”

Monique asked her shoe size and disappeared for a few minutes. Jamie stared at her reflection some more, unable to believe she’d actually found a dress she liked and that liked her. She turned around, admiring herself from every angle. She looked great and she couldn’t stop grinning like a fool.

When Monique returned, she had several packages of panty hose and three boxes of shoes. She set them in the chair. “These are what I would usually give customers to wear,” she said, pulling out black lace pumps with four-inch heels.

“No way.”

“That’s what I thought.” She opened the second box. These were also lace, but a two-inch heel. “Could you survive in these?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

“Put them on.” Monique set them on the floor.

Jamie stepped into the shoes. She wobbled a bit, but it wasn’t as bad as she thought. “I think I could manage.”

“Good. When was the last time you wore panty hose?”

Jamie tried to recall. It had been years. No doubt her parents had made her dress up to go to some formal event in high school, but she couldn’t put a date on it. “Um, I can’t really remember.”

Monique smiled. “I’ll send you home with three pairs,” she said. “In case you run the first couple putting them on. Now about your hair.”

“My hair?” She touched the long strands. “What’s wrong with it?”