Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 29

"Let me guess. She'll leave you alone, but get it into her head that I might be just the girl to 'reform' you, and spend the entire evening quizzing me on my methods."

Ethan grinned widely at her and dug into his pie as soon as the waiter placed it in front of him.

"I don't doubt for a minute that she'll try. Lucy can be a bulldog about these things. But I'll protect you and keep her from badgering you too much. If I make it clear you're just another flavor of the month and elicit Peter's help, we should be able to keep her from going overboard."

"Is that what I am, then," she asked softly, "the flavor of the month?"

He swallowed his last bite of pie and carefully set the fork across the plate, finally meeting her gaze. "No, actually. I'd like to think we're becoming friends."

With a sigh, Gwen leaned back in the booth and shook her head. Until he showed up at her apartment door this afternoon, he'd been a one-night stand, and now he believed they were becoming friends.

"I know I'm likely to regret this," she said, "but what time will you be picking me up?"

Six.

E than stood over the bench press, spotting Peter as he lifted a fifty-pound weight. Arms crossed over his chest, Ethan glared down at his supposed best friend.

"I can't believe you're giving me a hard time about this. What's the big deal about loading Lucy into the car and bringing her over to the club?"

"Hey, watch it. You're making my wife sound like a head of cattle. She isn't that big yet, and besides, I think she looks cute."

"I didn't mean it that way," Ethan nearly growled in frustration. "Of course she's cute. She looks like she swallowed a basketball, but I guess that's better than looking like she swallowed a Buick."

With a grunt, Peter lifted the barbell a final time, and Ethan helped him fit it into place.

"Here's what I don't get," Peter said, slightly out of breath as he sat up and began using one of the towels the gym provided to wipe a layer of sweat from his face and neck. "You scoff at Lucy's pregnancy, and the fact that we're deliriously happy together, yet you come to me and ask this favor to impress a woman. A woman who-if I didn't know better-has got you considering the marriage and family route yourself."

"I've been married," Ethan replied tersely. "It didn't work out."

"That's because Susan was a tramp and a gold digger. You're older and wiser now." His friend gave him a sardonic look. "Or so one would hope, though you couldn't prove it by those empty-headed bimbos you take home."

Ethan bit the inside of his lip and clenched his fists beneath his crossed arms. If Peter weren't his best friend, he'd have probably popped him one already.

"What's your point?"

"My point is, you've never asked Lucy and me to dinner before to meet one of your lady friends. In fact, other than flaunting your one-night stands when you feel like playing the playboy bachelor to the hilt, you rarely talk about the women you're interested in at all."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "Now, suddenly, it's become imperative that you set up this dinner party at The Hot Spot, and that Lucy and I are both there. Why? Do you like this girl that much? Or are you trying to shake her loose and need my wife to grill her like a nice, juicy steak?"

Peter grinned and Ethan couldn't help but smile in return. "I'm not trying to shake this one loose. And I want you to keep Lucy on a short leash, if you can."

"Hey, she's got a mind of her own. I'm just along for the ride," he said with a shrug. "So I guess that means you like this one, huh?"

A stab of fear lanced Ethan's belly. No, he wasn't ready to say that, at least the scene that Peter meant, but there was something about Gwen that kept her in the forefront of his mind.

He thought of the way she'd looked when he'd dropped her off after their lunch yesterday. He'd let her out at the curb, but only after she'd made a point of telling him about a dozen times that he didn't need to bother finding a parking s.p.a.ce or walking her to her apartment.

He'd taken the hint, but kept his car idling and watched her walk away. It would have taken a saint not to admire the snug fit of her snow-white jeans or the gentle sway of her shapely bottom-and he was far from being a saint.

He'd also noticed how she kept glancing over her shoulder, as if she expected him not to be there. As if he'd have pulled away as soon as the car door slammed behind her.

Please. If she'd stood in front of her building for an hour, staring up at the sky, he'd have flipped on his blinkers and pretended to be having engine trouble until the cops came to chase him away.

"I wouldn't go that far," he told his friend, despite the thoughts rolling through his head. "But I would like to get to know her a little better, which is why I need you and Lucy to come to this dinner Wednesday night. She'll like you two, and I know you'll like her. You won't have to worry about a thing. I've already called the caterer, so everything's set."

Peter pushed to his feet and headed for the shower. "I'll talk to Lucy about it, but I'm not making any promises."

"Great," Ethan offered, close on his buddy's heels. "Thanks. Tell Lucy I'd really appreciate it. And I'll owe her one, if she agrees. Maybe I can babysit her cat again the next time you two go out of town."

"Maybe you can babysit the baby."

Ethan made a face, imagining himself at the mercy of a squalling infant. Not to mention the bottles of formula, dirty diapers and shoulders covered in baby puke.

Swallowing hard, he forced his mouth to move. "If that's what it takes, I guess I'll have to. Provided you trust me to take care of your kid."

Peter halted in midstride and he turned to Ethan, his brows drawn together as he considered what he'd said. "Yeah, you're right. I may have to give it a bit more thought, but I'm sure we'll come up with something. Oh, and if we do make it Wednesday night, be sure to have plenty of beets on hand."

"Beets?"

"Yeah, it's Lucy's latest craving. If you don't have some around, she's likely to bite your hand off."

"Beets." Ethan gave a heartfelt sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. This was all getting way too complicated. "All right, got it. I'll tell the caterer to bring a bushel of beets."

Gwen succeeded in putting her lunch and upcoming dinner with Ethan completely out of her mind...right up until Wednesday morning, when she opened her closet and realized she once again had nothing to wear.

Or at least nothing she thought would be appropriate for spending an evening at his nightclub, with his friends, who were likely far more sophisticated than she was.

What were his friends like, she wondered?

Were they young, flashy, fun?

Would she be seated next to a blond bombsh.e.l.l with silicone b.o.o.bs, or some greasy faux movie producer who would slyly invite her to an audition on his casting couch when no one was looking?

All right, so that wasn't entirely fair. She was projecting. Not to mention stereotyping people she hadn't even met yet.

For all she knew, Ethan's friends might be the most pleasant folks she'd ever meet.

Ethan certainly wasn't what she would have expected if someone had told her about the nightclub owner before she'd actually met him. He was nice and kind of...sweet.

He'd tracked her down after she'd thought their short-lived acquaintance long over.

He'd taken her to lunch, to his favorite restaurant, which was apparently the place for everyone from secretaries to visiting diplomats to spend their lunch breaks. And he'd refused to let her pay-not even the tip.

Then, to top it all off, he'd asked her to dinner, to meet some of his friends.

So maybe things weren't always what they seemed. She was a prime example of that. She was nothing like what she seemed-at least, not when she was around Ethan.

But she couldn't tell him the truth, couldn't let him see the real Gwen Thomas, because then he might not be interested in her or want to spend time with her anymore. And even though she knew their relations.h.i.+p would end, she couldn't quite bear for it to end yet.

She liked being with him, liked thinking about being with him again. And she thrilled at the knowledge that she'd been in his bed, knew him intimately, even if she didn't know him very well beyond the physical.

But she hoped to.

Which meant she needed to get back to that boutique and find something appropriate for tonight.

She went straight to the shop after work and spent a good two hours trying on c.o.c.ktail dresses of all colors and designs. When she came out of the dressing room for what felt like the hundredth time, the owner of the boutique gasped and clapped her hands together in delight.

"Oh, honey, that's the one."

Latifa, the tall black woman with fuchsia highlights in her hair who had helped her to choose her birthday ensemble and some of the other new items in her closet, stepped forward and began brus.h.i.+ng her hands over Gwen's body, checking the seams and the fit of the dress.

It was a form-fitting, strapless sheath in fire-engine red that fell slightly north of midthigh. Stretchy filigree lace covered the satin body of the dress, which came with a matching, short-waisted, long-sleeve jacket.

Standing in front of the boutique's angled, full-length mirrors, Gwen thought she looked as much like a catalog model as she ever would. She couldn't remember ever owning anything so feminine and beautiful and sort of...sireny, if that was even a word.

The price tag dangling from the sleeve nearly sent her into cardiac arrest, but she took a deep breath and tried to mentally calculate whether or not she could afford it.

Maybe if she picked up a few extra hours at the library and packed peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwiches for her lunch for a while...

"Are you sure the color is right for a dinner party?" Gwen asked.

"Oh, yeah. Not for everyone, or under certain circ.u.mstances, but on you it looks like a million bucks. You could wear that dress to church on Sunday and no one would say a word."

Latifa gave a little chuckle and stepped away, hands on her hips. "The men might be thinking thoughts that would send them straight to h.e.l.l, but that wouldn't be your problem."

The color did seem to bring out her eyes and the deeper shades in her hair. Not to mention that the dress's snug fit displayed hills and valleys she hadn't seen since she dropped by Ethan's nightclub the first time. She actually appeared to have decent-size b.r.e.a.s.t.s for a change, and looked like more than a popsicle stick in ladies' footwear.

A part of her thought the outfit might be too much. But then, wasn't that what she was going for? She'd been too much the night of her birthday and landed Ethan without even trying.

Since then, she'd pulled back from that blatant, highly sensual side of herself, but he didn't know that. The woman in the high-cut red dress staring back at her from three different angles was exactly who he would be expecting to greet him when he picked her up this evening.

And if she switched to peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwiches for lunch and dinner both, and didn't buy any more clothes for a while...she might be able to swing it.

"I hope you're right about this," she said, her stomach knotted with anxiety.

"Oh, honey, I'm right. Once he sees you, that man of yours is going to have a hard time keeping his tongue in his mouth."

"He's not 'my man,'" Gwen corrected, letting her gaze fall to the floor.

"Not yet, you mean. But you come back tomorrow and tell Miss Latifa if that hasn't changed."

The woman's smile was contagious, and she seemed so sure this was the dress.

"Okay," Gwen agreed, "but I'm also going to need shoes and accessories." And, like the Cowardly Lion, she needed some courage to get through the evening unscathed.

"You do take credit cards, right?"

Gwen was dressed and ready to go by the time Ethan knocked on her door that evening. She hadn't wanted to risk needing more time, in which case she'd be forced to invite him inside, where he might feel the need to peek around while she finished getting prepared.

In addition to the red dress that made her feel like a movie star, she was wearing seamed stockings and red satin pumps. Her ears were adorned with gold hoops, and gold chains sparkled at her neck and wrist. Her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, the sides held up with two tiny, almost invisible combs.

The boutique owner had also talked her into purchasing a small, sequined handbag to round out the ensemble. Gwen had stuffed a compact, lipstick and the key to her apartment inside, then waited in the kitchen, her heart pounding in antic.i.p.ation, for Ethan to arrive.

Even though she'd been expecting him, had been listening for his footsteps in the hall for more than half an hour, she still jumped at that first loud, confident rap on the door.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed and bounced a few times on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet, ordering her nerves to stop skittering around like live electrical wires. When she felt more in control of her emotions, she twisted the k.n.o.b and yanked open the door.

Once again his mere presence punched her in the solar plexus, knocking the air from her lungs for a brief second.

He stood in the hallway, feet apart, one hand resting on the doorjamb, the other tucked into the pocket of his tailored charcoal slacks. The smile on his face was s.e.xy and charming, the gleam in his eyes flirty and playful. His jacket matched his pants, but the silk s.h.i.+rt beneath was a vibrant emerald green that screamed hot and hip.

For tonight, at least, she was hot and hip, too-or pretending to be-so she refused to be intimidated. Outwardly, anyway.

Grinning with an enthusiasm she didn't quite feel, she slipped the gold chain strap of her purse over her shoulder and closed the door behind her with a click.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he returned distractedly, his gaze traveling up and down her body. "Wow. I hope you don't take offense at that," he quickly added, holding his palms up in a defenseless gesture, "but it's the best I can do with so little blood pumping to my brain. Wow."

Her skin flushed with warmth at his blatant admission, and her eyes darted to the ground.

"You look amazing. And you can believe me when I say that, because I've seen a lot of fas.h.i.+onable women." One corner of his mouth hitched higher, and he gave her a slow, s.e.xy wink. "A side effect of owning a nightclub, you know. But that just makes me more of an authority on the subject, and I can honestly say you look hot tonight."

His persistence made her chuckle even as she blushed. "Thank you. I guess. You look very nice yourself."

"Thanks." He tugged at the edges of his jacket and straightened the collar of his s.h.i.+rt. "Are you ready to go?"

She jiggled the doork.n.o.b to her apartment one more time to be sure it was locked and then turned to face him again. "Ready."

He took her hand, linking his fingers with hers as they walked down the hall. "Thanks for letting me pick you up early. I didn't want you to have to take a cab, but I also thought I should be there when Peter and Lucy arrive."

Six o'clock might seem early to Ethan, but normally she would have already eaten and climbed into bed with a good book. He'd explained, though, that they needed to eat and have everything cleared away by the time The Hot Spot opened its doors for business at 10:00 p.m.

"It's not a problem. I'm looking forward to meeting your friends."

"You'll like them," he said, letting her descend the stairs ahead of him, but not loosening his hold on her.

"I'm sure I will. Are they the only ones who will be there?"

He shoved the lobby door open with his hip and waited for her to pa.s.s before answering. "Yeah. I hope that's okay."

"Of course. I just thought that since you said it was a dinner party, there would be more people there."