Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 27

She looked different. Her hair was a deep brunette instead of the lighter auburn he remembered, falling to her shoulders in waves rather than being teased off her face.

Her clothes, too, were more reserved. Whereas the black dress she'd worn had wrapped around her like a second skin, showing off every dip and curve of her body to perfection, the dress she wore today was long and loose, with tiny flowers dancing across a vanilla background. It flowed about her calves in the slight breeze, drawing his attention to the pair of flat-soled, reddish-brown sandals on her feet.

She seemed...earthier, more simplistic this way. Surprisingly, Ethan didn't find the change any less attractive.

He had nearly caught up to her now, but kept his distance, wanting to be sure this was actually Gwen and not just someone who looked incredibly similar to her. He was also curious to know where she was going, and the only way he would find out was to follow her there.

Six or eight blocks later, she turned into the doorway of a large, brown brick building. Pausing in the spot she'd occupied just a moment ago, he glanced up and saw that it was an apartment complex, then darted inside before the plate gla.s.s security door could click shut.

After pa.s.sing a bank of mailboxes on his right, he started up the mahogany stairwell, keeping his tread light as he listened for the soft squeak of Gwen's footsteps above him. He took his time, not wanting to catch up with her too soon.

At the third-floor landing he heard her pace change and he took the stairs two at a time so he could see which apartment she entered. In profile, as he watched her turn the key in the lock, she looked very much like the Gwen he knew, despite the changes in her appearance.

His blood thickened, pumping harder through his veins at the thought of being close to her again. He only hoped she'd be happy to see him...which was questionable, considering the way she'd left his apartment and never attempted to contact him again.

Which made him wonder-not for the first time-why he was so obsessed with tracking her down. He hoped it was merely a case of wounded pride, since she was the only woman he'd ever been with who hadn't tried to wiggle even more deeply into his life.

The minute she disappeared inside the apartment, he started forward and lifted a hand to rap on the door.

Gwen jumped in the process of making a sandwich for her lunch, startled by the loud knock at her apartment door. She hardly ever got visitors, and couldn't imagine anyone she knew pounding with such authority.

Mr. Gonzalez, her landlord, was a big man, but she doubted he would be calling, since she hadn't reported any problems with her plumbing lately. And kindly Mrs. Snedden at the end of the hall tapped lightly when she came over, usually in the evenings when she had a ca.s.serole or fresh-baked pastry she wanted to share.

Wiping a smear of mayonnaise from her finger with a dishrag, she set her sandwich fixings aside and moved the short distance to look through the peephole. As soon as she saw who was standing on the other side of the door, her heart froze in her chest.

Oh, my G.o.d, it was he.

How had he found her?

What did he want?

She glanced down at herself and realized how dowdy she looked.

Nothing like the s.e.x kitten Ethan had met that night at the club.

Although she'd loved the freedom and self-a.s.surance her makeover had brought her, she quickly realized she couldn't continue to carry off such a look in her everyday life. Her colleagues at the library would fall over in a dead faint if she changed too much too fast, so she'd gone for subtle adjustments instead.

Her wardrobe was one of them. It was slightly updated now-she found herself enjoying the shopping experience more than she had before-and she took the time each morning to mix and match different pieces to create a new outfit.

Her hair was another. She'd had the girl at the salon change the red coloring back to brown, but a darker, lusher tone than her natural shade. And she thought the new cut framed her face well, even without all the teasing and hairspray the stylist had insisted on using for that first, monumental birthday makeover.

Still, she couldn't let Ethan see her like this. He would think he'd landed at the door of Gwen's geekier twin sister.

Sucking in a deep breath, she darted farther into the apartment and tried not to let her voice waver as she called out, "Who is it?"

A beat pa.s.sed before his m.u.f.fled response permeated the thick wooden panel. "Ethan. Ethan Banks. I'm looking for Gwen...um, Gwen Thomas."

The familiar deep timbre of his voice raised goose b.u.mps along her flesh. As stunned as she was by his unexpected appearance at her door, a part of her was thrilled that he'd gone to the bother of tracking her down, and suddenly she was eager to talk with him again.

"Ethan! What a surprise," she returned, backing toward her bedroom. "Give me a minute, would you? I'll be right out."

She kicked out of her sandals and tore off her dress in record time, digging through her closet for something Ethan might think more appropriate for the woman he thought her to be.

She settled for a pair of tight white jeans and a pink, off-the-shoulder knit top with a big flower in the same material adorning one breast. These newest additions to her wardrobe proved she did actually possess a feminine form, even if it was a bit on the pet.i.te side.

Long silver teardrop earrings and a pair of pink pumps completed what she hoped was a decent outfit. Not quite as revealing as Ethan might be expecting, but a definite change from what she'd worn to work that morning.

Hurrying back through the kitchen, she paused a moment to get her skittering nerve endings under control and then opened the door just enough to peek out.

Lord, he was even more handsome than she remembered. His dark hair was carelessly disheveled, as though he'd run his fingers through it a few dozen times while waiting. His hazel eyes were narrowed and suspicious, but otherwise he looked completely relaxed. He was wearing hunter-green chinos with a matching jacket and a tan b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt beneath.

Good enough to eat, as some of the teenage girls who were occasional patrons of the library might say.

"Ethan. Hi," she greeted him a bit breathlessly, careful to keep one foot propped on the other side of the door so he couldn't see too far into the apartment.

Her floral-print sofa, muted eggsh.e.l.l walls and collection of ceramic cat figurines didn't exactly scream "wild woman." And she was afraid that if he came inside, he would realize what a sham her whole personality was-at least the personality she'd shown him so far.

"Gwen," he murmured, sounding almost relieved. "It is you. I wasn't sure when I spotted you on the street, but I was hoping."

He gave her a crooked grin and then glanced past her, into the apartment. "Aren't you going to ask me in?"

"Actually," she drawled, groping behind her on the counter for her purse, "I was just on my way out."

"Great, I'll go with you."

That stopped her cold, causing her belly to lurch in panic. Darn it. She'd blurted the first thing that came to mind, never thinking he might want to go along...to wherever it was she now had to go.

"Um..."

"Come on," he cajoled. "I'll even drive."

One shoulder resting against the doorjamb, he was entirely too charming to deny.

She dropped her head and sighed. "All right, let me just take care of one thing first."

Before he could stop her, she slammed the door closed, then slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder on the way to the phone.

Apologizing profusely, she made up a story about a personal emergency and begged her supervisor at the library for the afternoon off, all the while gathering the bread, lettuce, mayonnaise and lunch meat she'd gotten out earlier and returning them to the refrigerator.

Marilyn, thank goodness, was completely understanding, but Gwen wondered how many more times she could call out with these flimsy excuses before someone either became suspicious or she lost her job.

After hanging up, she pulled the door open again and slipped into the hall, locking the apartment behind her.

"So." Ethan pushed away from the wall and rubbed his hands together in eagerness, still smiling. "You ready?"

Gwen nodded, walking ahead of him.

Seemingly unoffended, he matched his stride to hers. "Is there some reason you don't want me inside your apartment?" he asked in a casual tone.

His question brought her up short. She'd been hoping he wouldn't notice all her stealthy movements, but, of course, the man was too observant by half.

"No, not at all."

She cast a wary glance over her shoulder as they reached the stairwell, trying to read the expression on his face. The only thing she saw there was a degree of friendly curiosity and the strong, masculine features that encouraged the tiny b.u.t.terflies low in her belly to start doing handsprings.

"It's just that...my place is a mess, and I was embarra.s.sed for you to see it that way."

Yes, that sounded good. A plausible excuse.

"Maybe you can come in some other time, after I've had a chance to clean up." With any luck, that time would never come. Because if he ever discovered the kind of person she really was, she doubted he'd stick around long enough to get into her apartment.

"Okay," he responded with a shrug.

They started down the steps and almost reached the lobby before he spoke again.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

Good question. She hadn't really given it that much thought when she lied about being on her way out. Then her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since a slice of toast that morning.

"I thought I'd go out for lunch," she told him.

"Great." He slammed a hip against the metal bar of one of the plate-gla.s.s doors that fronted her building, holding it open until she stepped through. "Just tell me where. My car is parked nearby."

He pointed toward a long line of vehicles at the curb, and she followed him. And followed him. And followed him.

Several blocks later he stopped beside a silver Lexus, clicked the b.u.t.ton on his keychain for the locks to click open, then leaned over to open the pa.s.senger side door. She paused before getting in, gazing in the direction of her apartment building way down the street.

"I know," he said, reading her mind, his high cheekbones flus.h.i.+ng slightly in embarra.s.sment. "But it's a busy time of day and I was lucky to find this spot."

She was inside, fastening her seat belt, when a question occurred to her. As soon as he slid in next to her, she took a deep breath and asked.

"Ethan, I know this might sound strange, but how did you find me? I mean, that night we were together..." Her voice broke and she stopped to clear her throat. "I know I didn't tell you where I lived."

Once again, a light brush of color swept across his features. "Yeah, well. You'll think I'm crazy, but I thought I saw you coming out of the library, so I pulled over and followed you."

"You followed me." She repeated his words, blinking like an owl in astonishment.

"I told you you'd think I was crazy, but I'm not a stalker, I swear," he said, flas.h.i.+ng her a smile she thought was supposed to be rea.s.suring. Then he turned his attention to the road and eased his car into the flow of traffic.

"The truth is, I wasn't sure it was you at first. You changed your hair."

Automatically Gwen lifted a hand to her shoulder-length curls. Was that all he'd noticed about her?

Now that she knew he'd seen her walking home on her lunch break, she realized he'd also seen her in the long, floral sundress and practical shoes she'd worn to work. Her mad rush to change into something he'd find more attractive probably hadn't even been necessary.

Except that she still didn't want him to know what kind of person she really was. Plain, boring, inhibited...all the things she'd fought so hard not to be the night they were together.

Her mind raced to come up with an excuse, some logical reason she'd been dressed that way. And then she realized he hadn't asked.

She felt a whisper of relief, followed by a grim determination that if he did ask about her earlier outfit, she'd simply lie. She could tell him she'd been to visit her parents in Virginia, and that they didn't approve of her normal, more outrageous clothing. And with the local library so close to her apartment building, it was only natural that she would borrow or need to return an occasional book.

"I like it," he murmured suddenly, drawing her away from the details of her made-up life.

"Excuse me?"

"Your hair. I liked it when it had more red in it, but this is nice, too. Soft and touchable." He reached out to do just that, rubbing the ends of a single curl between his thumb and fingers.

Gwen wasn't sure how it happened, since he wasn't actually touching her, but a bolt of electricity shot straight from the top of her scalp to the soles of her feet. Every inch of flesh in between tingled with awareness. Not to mention a few deep, dark places she hadn't known existed until she met this man.

When he released the lock of hair and returned his hand to the steering wheel, she immediately felt bereft.

"Why did you change it?" he wanted to know.

"I was just...in the mood for something different," she responded, thinking how much of an understatement that was. She'd been in the mood to change her life, her hair being only a small part of the major overhaul.

Unfortunately, she hadn't yet had the courage to introduce her new self to her friends at work. Which only proved what a coward she really was. No amount of makeup or shopping for new clothes could change that.

"So where are we going for lunch?"

She hadn't thought that far ahead, and all the places that popped into her head seemed too cheap or casual for someone with Ethan's style and tastes.

Shrugging a shoulder, she said, "I hadn't really decided yet."

"In that case, I'll take you to one of my favorites. They have great food and fairly private tables. It will give us a chance to get to know each other better."

Gwen swallowed and desperately longed to start today over again. If she'd known how much trouble she would be getting into, there wasn't a single thing she'd do the same.

But because she'd gone home in the middle of the afternoon instead of taking a bag lunch with her to work...because she'd opened her door when Ethan knocked...because she'd made up that stupid story about planning to go out for lunch...she would now have to make small talk with the one person in the world she didn't want knowing her any better.

It was almost enough to make her wish she'd remained a virgin.

Five.

H e took her to Martin's Tavern. Just about every white-collar worker in the Georgetown area ate there during lunchtime, so it was still pretty crowded. But the food was great, and in about ten minutes, the crowd would start to dwindle.

When the hostess offered to seat them, Ethan asked for something in the back where he and Gwen could hopefully have a bit of privacy. They followed the woman to a burgundy vinyl booth. A light green bar lamp hung overhead, casting a muted glow over the scarred, dark wood tabletop. Even in the middle of the day, the natural sunlight streaming through the front windows wasn't strong enough to completely illuminate the back of the tavern.

A few minutes later, a college-age waiter came to take their drink orders, then left them alone again to study the menus.

Ethan glanced surrept.i.tiously at the woman sitting across from him, her nose buried in the laminated list of lunch choices. He couldn't believe it was really Gwen. That he'd found her on his own, out of the blue, when he'd been about twelve hours from hiring a detective to track her down.

She looked different from the way she had that night at his apartment, but in a good way. Her hair was styled in a more carefree fas.h.i.+on, without half a can of hairspray holding it in place. Her clothes looked more comfortable, too. Better suited to her personality-at least, the personality he'd seen glimpses of. Though he had to admit, he had a soft spot for the little black dress she'd worn on her birthday.