Page 588 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Oh wow. I think I’m in love,” her voice drifted out from the dressing room after a few minutes of quiet rustling. “This is the most perfect dress ever.”

“Well, show me,” I said. “Get out here.”

I felt a flicker of anticipation at seeing this gussied-up version of Felicity. She was a natural beauty, so fancy dresses were just icing on the cake, but it would be good to see her dressed in something tailored to really make her beauty shine. She drew back the curtain slowly, like she was nervous to come out. She took a few steps toward me, letting the dress do the talking for her.

It was a fitted, strapless confection that clung to her body, embroidered with an explosion of colorful flowers from bodice to hem. Elegant, playful, but still incredibly sexy. I tried not to stare at the swell of her breasts peeking from the top. It was exactly right for attracting attention without seeming like she was trying too hard.

“Perfect,” I agreed quickly. “It’s going to photograph great in the window tonight.”

She frowned at me in the mirror as she smoothed the skirt. “That’s it?”

“What…what do you mean?” I asked, perplexed by the question.

“You said the dress is going to photograph great, but what about me?” Her gaze jumped between her reflection and mine. “Is it just the dress, or do I add something to the equation?”

My first thought was that she was fishing for compliments—but she looked genuinely uncertain. It continued to amaze me that Felicity didn’t understand the depth of her own beauty. Yes, the dress was a work of art, but it was Felicity that elevated it.

I jumped to my feet and strode to her, then took her by shoulders and turned her to face me. It was a struggle to ignore the way her soft skin felt beneath my palms.

“How can you believe you are anything other than flawless?” I asked. “You could wear an extra-large white Hanes t-shirt and ponytail and still be the most beautiful woman in the room.”

She flicked her eyes to the floor, obviously embarrassed by my compliments. “Stop.”

“I won’t. I’m being honest. It’s not my opinion, it’s a fact.”

Felicity glanced up at me and we stared into each other’s eyes, trying to sort out this new level of intimacy we were facing.

“Thank you for saying that,” she murmured. “I’m not used to making a fuss about clothing and stuff. Remember, I’m usually hiding in the garage working on the engine, not actually driving the car.”

I smiled at her clumsy metaphor. “Well, it’s high time you put the top down and go for a joyride.”

She laughed and took a step away from me, holding her hands across her chest. “Top down? What are you suggesting, Mr. O’Connor?”

“Don’t even go there, Fagin,” I warned with a smile. “That’s not in our contract.”

“I’m glad you remember,” she wagged a finger at me. “Topless dining was definitely not part of the equation!”

As much as I wanted to keep joking with her, I knew we needed to keep it professional. After all, she’d been clear in our contract, and I wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable before we’d even begun.

“Why don’t you take the dress off⁠—"

“Excuse me?” She took a bigger step back from me, pretending to be horrified by the suggestion.

“So I can pay for it,” I laughed. “We need to get moving.”

“Hold on, I want to check the price first,” she said, twisting around to try to find the tag.

I spotted it dangling in the middle of her back, so I pulled it off before she could grab it and start complaining.

“It’s taken care of,” I said as I walked out of the dressing room. “They have heels ready for you as well. Don’t say a word.”

I glanced back at her right as she snapped her mouth closed. “Fine.”

I gave her a wink. “Good girl. So you can listen.”

“Oh my god,” her indignant voice echoed from behind me as I strode to the register. “Did you just praise me like a dog?”

I chuckled and kept walking.