Paper Marriage Proposition (Gage Brothers 1)

Landon’s Hermès tie stood an inch from her nose and Beth squeaked and covered herself as if she were naked. She stumbled back. “What are you doing here? Get out!”

“Relax.” He stepped inside, shut the door and leaned back on his heels, forehead furrowed as he regarded the skirt and jacket she’d tried on. “Drop your hands, let me see.”

Beth dropped her hands, wanting to pull a bag over her face, she felt so red. She forced herself to remain still as his eyes traveled her, lingering in indecent places. The suit was about as secretarial as they came, but she could’ve been stark naked for the way his eyes regarded her. “Good.” He met her gaze with a sarcastic tilt of his lips. “For a woman twice your age, perhaps.”

“I need to look respectable for court,” she reminded him.

“You can look both young and respectable.” Suddenly, he was deeper into the room, prying through the choices that hung to the side. With the bright overhead lights, his face was perfectly clear. Bronze, chiseled, he was a Greek god.

“Can I help you with any sizes?” The saleslady peeped through the shuttered door.

He straightened as though the woman had been speaking to him. He flung the door open and Beth heard a startled gasp. “Yes. Bring my wife something elegant, expensive and unique. Not too showy, well-cut…” He turned his attention to Beth. “Your size?”

“Six.”

“Six it is. Anything else, sir?”

He studied the lingerie piled on the corner chair—white—which she had discreetly brought over to try on.

“And lingerie,” he added, watching Beth’s reaction as he lifted a plain cotton panty up to his line of vision. “Something feminine and smaller than this.”

Bethany could find no place to hide, with all the mirrors in the room. She saw four Landons—his back—his profile—his front. All of the sights were quite mesmerizing. His fingers touching the panty was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

Landon plopped down on the sole chair and folded his arms behind his head as the woman came in with an assortment of clothes. Beth dared not look at the prices, but the fabrics were exquisite, the cuts sublime.

All it took was a man in Hugo Boss to say, “Bring something nice,” and suddenly, voilà, Chanel was on the rack.

“Akris,” the saleslady said of a cream dress with a boat-cut shoulder. “You won’t want to take it off. Like second skin, very flattering on.” She turned to Land

on. “And—” She pulled out bra after bra, panty after panty, of the most decadent lace imaginable. “For your wife.”

“Leave them here.”

She did, and then asked if Beth needed help with the Akris dress. “It’s difficult to button in the back,” she explained. “Rows and rows of buttons.”

Landon had opened a magazine among a stack on a small table and pretended to be riveted. The saleslady proceeded to help Beth out of the jacket and skirt so she could get into the dress. “I’m used to the men hardly even looking. They’ve seen everything,” she muttered into Beth’s ear.

“Yes, but mine is—”

“Gorgeous, darling, oh, goodness, the ladies outside are just waiting to have an eyeful.”

Beth frowned. Oh, were they? She pretended nonchalance as the woman slipped the Akris dress on and began to work button after button, and when Beth turned, Landon’s hot, appreciative gaze hit her like a blast.

“Well,” the lady said, patting her back, “what do you think?”

Beth caught her reflection; she looked good, the dress fitting beautifully and making her seem even curvier than she actually was—which in her case was a good thing.

But the opinion both women waited for did not come.

For the longest time, Landon said nothing. Then gruffly, “Leave us, please.”

He set the magazine down, and Beth’s heart began to thump wildly as the saleslady departed. The dress detailed everything—the soft mounds of her breasts, the peaked nipples, her hips.

“Do you like it, Landon?”

She needed to hear his opinion now, because his gaze made her mind pull this way and that, and her stomach kept fluttering.

He reached out to her waist, inspecting the texture, his features hard with concentration as he considered. He fondled a breast, pushed the mound high in his hand and rubbed gently. “Why did you marry him?”