“Done!” Chloe announced happily, holding up the finished dress. It had come out well, even if she did say so herself. The delicate pink crepe and creamy lace suited her complexion, and the fit flattered her curves while covering enough to be appropriate for a very professional occasion.
Smiling, she slipped off her leggings and sweatshirt and put on the dress. She couldn’t resist admiring herself in the mirror because, damn, she really had done a good job. It fitted like the proverbial glove. For just a moment, she imagined herself walking up to the stage, shaking hands with the mayor, and accepting the award for Young Small Businessperson of the Year. She’d look out at the crowd and—
Would she see Maxwell’s face, beaming with pride as he clapped his hands? She hadn’t even asked him yet if he wanted to come. With everything he had said, maybe she shouldn’t ask him. But she wanted him there. Wanted him by her side, wanted him to be the one to tell her he was proud of her, that she deserved this.
It wasn’t like she could say all of that to him, though. Instead, she posed carefully in the mirror and snapped a picture, sending it to Maxwell.
Just finished making my dress for the Small Business Awards. What do you think?
She was surprised when her phone began to buzz in her hands with an immediate reply.
It would look wonderful on my bedroom floor, the message began, and Chloe let out a reluctant laugh. I’d be delighted to buy you a dress for your awards. A little Gucci, perhaps?
And that made Chloe let out something very like a snort of indignation. Her dress might not be Gucci, but she thought it looked like it could have come from at least a local Australian designer.
Chloe looked at herself again in the mirror, trying to decide what it was about the dress that Maxwell deemed not good enough. Maybe, she thought with a sinking heart, the women he usually spent time with didn’t make their own clothes. Maybe that witch who cursed him was the kind of woman who had her hair done every week, who had someone else paint her nails and laser the hair from her legs. Maybe that witch had dripped with Gucci.
She did not send a reply to Maxwell’s text.
Chloe was apprehensive when she saw the Range Rover pull up outside Crowley Lake Realty from her window. Yes, they had planned for him to come over that evening, but that was before he had insulted her dress.
Maxwell, for his part, clearly didn’t seem to think anything was amiss as he kissed her when she opened the door. And while she might be understandably cross, his lips against hers sent hot sparks of desire shooting through her. Maybe it was best to let the dress thing go.
“I hope you don’t have too much more work to finish this evening,” Maxwell said, slipping off his shoes and going up the stairs.
“Why?” Chloe asked. “Was there something special you had planned?”
“Very special,” Maxwell said as she followed him up. “A night with you, doing absolutely nothing. Well, not nothing, but…” he smirked. “I know how busy you are, Chloe. I’m grateful when I get you all to myself.”
And okay, that definitely made up for the dress incident. Chloe couldn’t help smiling and let herself be wrapped up in those strong arms. “You say the sweetest things,” she said, kissing him.
It was the kind of kiss that was definitely going places, Chloe thought. Especially when Maxwell’s hand slipped under her sweatshirt, peeling it off and casting it to the ground. Her leggings went next. She was about to unclip her bra when he stopped her.
“You want me to keep it on?”
“Just for a moment,” Maxwell said. “I have something for you.” He opened his bag and took out a box. A glossy white box tied with silver ribbon.
“What’s this?” Chloe frowned, but she had a sneaking suspicion she knew just what it was.
“Open it,” Maxwell said, looking at her eagerly.
Carefully, Chloe pulled at the ribbon, opened the lid and—
“Do you like it?” Maxwell asked. “I thought it would suit you. It’s for your awards night.”
The dress was exquisite. There was no doubt about it. Emerald green lace made up the fitted, high-necked bodice and then flowed out into a full skirt. One glance at the label let Chloe make an educated guess at how much it had cost.
“You don’t like it?” Maxwell had noticed that she didn’t seem as delighted as he clearly expected her to be.
“I already have a dress for the awards,” Chloe said, biting her lip. “I mean, this is really nice, of course it is, but I don’t need it.”
“Oh, you do,” Maxwell insisted. “You deserve something special. Something luxurious. You’ll look amazing when you win.”
And that was sweet, but Chloe still couldn’t bring herself to be happy. “Did you really hate the dress I made that much?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. “Or are you ashamed to be seen with me in clothes I made?”
“No!” Maxwell looked stunned. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. The dress you made is very pretty, and you did a lovely job. I just wanted to spoil you a bit because I know you’d never spoil yourself. I’m proud of you, you know.”
“That’s very kind,” Chloe said. “And it’s not that I’m not grateful—”