you’re with me.”
She holds up her left hand, wiggling the finger beside her pinky. “Until someone puts a ring on this, I am. And I know that someone will never be you, so…I am free. Choose your battles, Maxon. You’re not winning this one. If you want me to wear this button-up Betty garb, I suggest you focus on that fight.”
Before I can reply, Jennifer emerges with a rolling rack filled with garments zipped up into dark, protective bags. The shelf at the bottom between the wheels holds something like thirty pairs of shoes. “I meant to ask your shoe size. Most of my samples are a six or seven.”
Keeley puts on a smile. “I’m usually a six and a half.”
Jennifer lights up. “Perfect. Then most of these should fit. Let’s get started.”
After she unzips all the bags and hangs the clothes meticulously on the rack, I see the caliber of the garments she’s brought and I smile. Tailored. Designer. Impeccable. The muted colors aren’t typical. Yeah, there are navys and grays, but I see pale peach and a powerful orange. A soft green suit with a leopard print trim at the pockets and cuffs catches my eye. I spot a really sexy dress in black with cream-colored cut-outs at cleavage and waist, giving the illusion of skin that’s actually covered. A pretty salmon-colored skirt snags my gaze next. On the hanger, it’s been paired with a silky white blouse and a taupe cardigan sporting just a hint of texture. This is a visual feast, and imagining how it will all look on Keeley is making my aching cock press into my zipper again.
I point to a classic pinstripe suit that looks designed to hug the body. The one deviation from tradition is that the lapels drape softly to ruffle down the torso. “Let’s start there. What goes beneath?”
“It’s actually designed to be worn alone. You can pair it with a shell but it’s not necessary.”
“So…cleavage?”
Jennifer nods. “Quite a bit.”
“Perfect.”
“Do you want my opinion?” Keeley asks me.
I try to keep it diplomatic. She warned me to pick my battles. I intend to win the war. “I want to see how everything looks, then we’ll compare notes afterward.”
“Fine,” she huffs.
Jennifer hustles her into the dressing room with several boxes of shoes and some lacy stuff that will no doubt make my heart race dangling from her palms. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I hear the ladies talking. Fabric rustles. The ever-helpful associate darts out from the little room to dash for her jewelry case. After a cock of her head, she reaches for several pieces, then hustles back to the dressing room. Another two long minutes pass before the door opens.
Keeley emerges looking a tad less than comfortable and confident in that pinstripe suit. I don’t know why. She should be thrilled. It hugs every curve, exaggerating the flare of her hips and the slender shape of her calves. Her feet look almost Cinderella dainty in the sexy black wedges with straps wrapped around her ankles a time or ten. I almost see the swells of her breasts. The chunky silver locket high on her throat is a distraction, but I’m sure if I look hard enough I’m going to see tits. Only I don’t. It’s classy yet sexy. Jennifer has even wound Keeley’s pink hair into a French twist behind her head.
Overall, she looks stunning. I always preferred babes in bikinis or tight dresses, but now I see exactly what Griff responds to by lusting after women in suits. Oh, my god, the thought of stripping away her power and getting her under me, hearing her cry out my name while I’m—
“Do you like it?” Jennifer butts into my thoughts.
“Yeah. Everything. Just like that. What else do you have?”
“Let me show you.”
She proceeds to change Keeley into the pale green suit. It’s classic but reminds me of springtime. It’s paired with a black shell that highlights the animal print trim. She’s even found matching cheetah shoes that should seem hookerish, but with such an elegant ensemble, it’s perfect. Delicate jewelry. A thin headband to hold Keeley’s hair away from her face. Feminine and prim with a hint of vixen.
I want to dirty her up bad. “Yes. Love all that. Next?”
By the time we’re done, we’ve chosen four suits, three dresses, ten pairs of shoes, four purses, and a handful of accessories. I can’t help but notice the seven bras and matching panties she’s sliding into a soft pink box all wrapped in tissue paper. I wish to fuck Keeley had modeled those for me. I’m hard just imagining what she’ll look like in those transparent confections of silk.
I pay Jennifer handsomely for everything she selected and assure her that I’ll call if I need anything else. Keeley is quiet and looking a little shell-shocked as I loop the packages over my wrist and drape all the hanging bags over that same shoulder. With my free hand, I take hers as we leave.
“You okay?” I ask.
She takes a few minutes to answer. “It’s…realer now. We’re really going to do this.” She looks up at me with concern. “Maxon, I’m not very good at deceit.”
I can picture that. Keeley is so open and kind. She would help puppies and old people across the street. She’d stand between a bulldozer and a historic building. She would hate lying to anyone.
“That’s a crappy trait in business”—I squeeze her hand—“but I like you that way. Just remember, you’re doing this to help me repair my relationship with my brother.”
“I am. But you’re not.”
“My motives don’t have to be yours, sunshine. Look, my soul is black. I’m perfectly happy with subterfuge and revenge. But you didn’t get into this to hurt anyone, just help. You don’t have to get down on my level. Just…do what you do.”
Slowly, she nods. “I have to be honest, if the opportunity to bring you guys together presents itself, I’ll probably ditch the whole flirtation thing and just ’fess up.”
It won’t but I love the fact that she’s not in a hurry to have sex with my brother. It’s up to me to make sure she doesn’t want to have sex with him—or anyone else. I’m not precisely sure why I’m feeling so possessive, but there it is. I’m not dissecting it now.
“I know,” I murmur as we reach the car. I doubt Griff will ever let her into his soul enough to talk about family rifts, so it’s a nonissue. “I’m okay with you being you.”
More than okay.
She lets out a relieved breath as I help her into the car. When I slide in beside her and we speed out of the nearly empty lot, she reaches across and grabs my hand. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think your soul is black. I hope you see that someday.”
CHAPTER TEN
By the end of the week, January has rushed into February. I feel my days with Keeley slipping away. In fact, my time with her is almost half gone. She’s the first person I talk to in the morning and the last person I think about before I go to sleep. I want her, yeah. But it’s more. I want to be with her all the time. I look forward to coming home to her at night.
What will I do when the month is up and she moves out? Maybe I should convince her to stay. That sounds great…but how?
The worry makes me tense as I shower and get ready for a long day of showing an overseas client who’s flown in some properties around Maui and Oahu. I would rather spend my day with Keeley…but I’ve made other plans for her. Important ones. Now that we’ve managed to have all her clothes altered with the proper nip and tuck to suit her petite frame, today’s endeavors represent the last of our preparations. Keeley has practiced the body language on me so much now I’m perpetually hard. She knows enough about Griff not to step in shit but not so much that she’ll have to feign surprise as they’re talking. I’m so close to implementing my plan. I should be thrilled, excited—ready to bring a bastard down.
All I can think about is that beating Griff might mean losing Keeley.
Trying not to ponder that thought too hard, I don my suit and tie, then grab some of the sprouted bread with almond butter that Keeley keeps around for breakfast. Different…but not bad. When she’s gone, I’ll miss the food, too. I’ll miss h
er laughter. I’ll miss the way she loves my lanai.