Page 43 of Irresistibly Wicked

He looked at the tag. “It’s an eight.”

“That won’t fit. I need a ten or twelve, depending on the cut.”

“I’ll never understand why women’s sizes aren’t universal between brands, like guys’ sizes are.” He exchanged the eight for a ten and a twelve. When she reached for them, he pulled them away.

“I thought you wanted me to try them on,” she said.

“I have a feeling it’ll be like pulling teeth getting you back into that dressing room, which is why we’re going to choose a few more first.”

“Damn it,” she grumbled. “That was the point.”

“See? I know my future wife well. You can’t trick me.” He pulled a little black dress off a rack and held it up. “Now, this is hot.”

“I’m not going to a nightclub.”

“Yeah, but you’ll look drop-dead gorgeous in it.”

“If you love dresses so much, why don’t you wear one?” she challenged.

“And show off my legs? Not after the way you ogled me when I stepped out of the shower.”

“I didn’t ogle you,” she snapped, but she was laughing.

“Well, you sure didn’t hightail it out of the bathroom.”

“Because I was late for work—”

“And I was naked,” he tossed out, egging her on.

“That wasn’t my fault! I had to brush my teeth.”

“And ogle me.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” Then, louder, he said, “I’ll make you a deal. If you try on the black dress, after dinner I’ll leave the bathroom door wide open from now on.”

She deadpanned.

He laughed. “I’m kidding. If you try it on, I’ll take you out for dessert at that great French bakery in Wellfleet. They have the best pastries stuffed with chocolate or cream, with powdered sugar on top.”

“No thanks. I’m not into fancy desserts.”

No fancy clothes. No fancy desserts. He was noticing a pattern. He wasn’t into fancy things either, but he wanted to do nice things for her, to show her she was worth the extra effort. He chose not to push it now, since she’d agreed to try on a few dresses, which was clearly a sore spot for her. “How about ice cream?”

That earned a genuine smile. “How many scoops?”

“However many you’d like.”

Their banter continued as they picked out slacks and tops and other outfits.

“If I hate everything I try on, I’m getting married in my workout clothes,” she said as they headed for the dressing room.

“I knew you were only in this for the tacos.”

She flashed a cheesy smile and disappeared behind a curtain.

Zander was too anxious to sit still. He’d never taken a woman shopping before, and he was having fun. “Need some help in there?”

“No,” she said with a laugh.

“Are you sure? I’m good at taking women’s clothes off.”