Dana’s eyes were wide, so he passed over slide number three.
“This is a cost estimate if we need three separate beds, a crib, a toddler bed and a twin bed. In less than four years’ time, this is the amount we’d be spending on average-priced beds.” He pointed to the bottom of one column.
“And this,” he said, pointing to the other side of the page with the tip of his pen, “is the cost of the all-in-one.”
Taking encouragement from her nod, from the way she was studying the sheets he put before her, he continued on with comparison cost analyses for the rest of the nursery, down to paint and average-priced wallpaper.
He’d read about preparing the nursery and was pretty certain he had it all covered.
“The only thing I didn’t take into consideration was ceiling decor,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be one of those people who’d want glow-in-the-dark stars on the baby’s ceiling, or if you’d rather leave the ceiling blank for the baby’s imagination to fill in. It’s important not to overstimulate, but some kind of light in the darkness is comforting, without making it so bright that the child grows up afraid of the dark, or so that his melatonin confuses night with day.”
Dana’s mouth dropped open.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you know all of this.”
“I didn’t. Until this weekend.”
Shaking her head she smiled. And glanced at her watch.
“Oh, my word, Josh! It’s ten to one. I have to go to class.”
Damn. That trip to the cafeteria had cost him too much time. He’d had everything planned down to the minute, as usual. Busy people didn’t like to be kept waiting. And everyone had schedules.
He’d adjust. Flexibility was a key talent of his. “Are you busy tonight?” he asked.
“Nothing I can’t work around.”
“You want to go out to dinner and finish this?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Are you asking or telling?”
He paused. Slow down, son. His father’s voice piped up again. They have to feel like the choice is theirs.
“I’m asking.”
Standing, with her satchel over her shoulder, Dana grinned at him as she headed toward the door. “Just checking,” she said. “Six is fine.”
He watched her open the door and walk down the hall, her long legs going on forever, reigniting his desire to have them wrapped around him.
He was going to close this deal. There was no other option.
* * *
DANA HUMMED ALL afternoon. Funny how life could seem hopeless in the morning, and by evening be filled with opportunity and possibility.
Pulling a couple of outfits from the back of her closet, ones her sisters had forced her to buy, she considered her choices. Sexy without feeling slutty was what she was going for. Josh was going to propose. And she wanted him to see the best side of what he was getting.
As soon as she’d let L.G. out after class, she’d rushed home to get to work. Her hair no longer bore even a hint of the highlights her sisters had talked her into having professionally done, but there wasn’t time to do anything about that. The Arizona sun had streaked it the tiniest bit. That would have to do.
Still, she curled it, and then pulled a small section of it back, just as Lindsey had shown her to do. She clipped it with the black embellished flower Rebecca had given her for Christmas a couple of years before.
The worst part was next—the makeup. On days when she had to dress up she’d put on a little mascara and call it done. That afternoon she pulled out all the crap her sisters had had her waste so much money on—from the clarifying wash that prepped her skin to the eyeliner that made her eyes look vampirish to her but, according to her sisters, made her eyes pop.
She remembered how to apply it all. Dana had always been a quick study. She just didn’t like the feel of it on her face. Or the fake appearance it created.
Still, Josh knew the real her. And he had the lovelies of the world vying for his attention. She wanted him to know he could have that at home, too, if it’s what turned him on. If the trimmings were what Josh found attractive, she’d get up earlier every day and go through the same rituals her sisters went through.
At five-thirty, she pulled on skintight black jeans with a black, equally tight long-sleeved Lycra top and her thigh-length, black-and-silver lightweight sweater coat, which she left open but belted loosely with a thick leather belt. Silver hoop earrings went in both piercings in her ears. It hurt a bit getting them in—she’d stopped wearing earrings when she’d left Indiana.
Still, the finished effect was what she’d known it would be. If someone didn’t look too closely, she could pass for any popular beauty her age.