Crave The Night (Midnight Breed 12)

“I know you are,” Carys relented. “And so is Nathan, I think. More serious than I’ve ever known him to be.”

Without saying any more, Carys got up from the bed and strode into Jordana’s walk-in closet. “Did you decide what you’re wearing tonight?”

Jordana hurried after her. “I’ve narrowed it down to the black tea-length or the pale rose silk cocktail dress.” It was hard to think about clothing choices, let alone discuss them when her breath had suddenly caught in her lungs. “What do you mean, Nathan is more serious than you’ve ever known him? Serious … about me?”

Carys found the two dresses Jordana mentioned and was now pulling them out of the wardrobe. She held them up, one in each hand. “I’d have to see these on you before I could decide which one is best. Here. Try the black one first.”

Jordana grabbed the dress her friend pushed toward her. “Did Nathan say he was serious about me?”

Carys waggled her hand dismissively. “Let me see the dress, then we’ll talk.”

On a grumble, Jordana twisted her long blond hair into a makeshift knot on top of her head, then shucked her robe and bra and slipped into the fitted black dress. It was her original choice, a purchase she’d been saving for months specifically for the exhibit opening. Classic, conservative, perfect.

Carys cocked her head to the side, then feigned a yawn. “Next.”

“You don’t like this one at all?” Jordana turned to one of the full-length mirrors in the massive walk-in. The portrait-collared, mid-calf-length dress was lovely.

It would have been an excellent choice for any social event … particularly if Jordana was officiating at a funeral instead of an art exhibit.

She slanted her friend’s reflection a conceding look, then crossed her arms over her breasts. “Tell me what he said.”

“He said he didn’t want anything to happen to you. He doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”

Not exactly a love song, but it made Jordana’s heart pound heavy and hopeful in her breast. “That’s it? He didn’t say anything more than that?”

Carys gestured for her to continue with the fashion show. Jordana frowned but quickly took off the black frock. When she reached for the equally uninspired rose silk dress, Carys snatched it away and pulled a different one from out of the sea of elegant attire. “Try this instead.”

“Oh,” Jordana said, already beginning to shake her head. “No, that’s not appropriate for tonight, and I—”

“I thought you wanted to know what else he said,” Carys teased. “So put it on.”

Given little choice, Jordana accepted the red cocktail dress from Carys’s outstretched hand. The silken fabric was sleek and soft in her fingers, if somewhat shapeless on its hanger.

Jordana recalled the impulse buy with alarming clarity now. She’d bought this dress the day after she’d so recklessly—insanely—forced a kiss on Nathan in the other room of this very apartment.

It wasn’t the kind of dress she’d ever have chosen for herself normally, and she had no idea why she hadn’t immediately returned it.

She gathered the light bundle of fiery fabric over her head and let it settle down over her body. It felt like liquid skating along her skin, decadent, luxurious. Deliciously sinful.

“Tell me what else Nathan said,” she ordered her friend as the red dress smoothed into place.

“He told me that you’re important to him,” Carys replied from behind her. “He said he cares about you.”

Jordana pivoted around. Cool air caressed her spine where the swooping, low-cut back of the knee-length cocktail dress plunged daringly low. “He really said that? He said I’m important. That he cares about me?”

“Yeah.” Carys looked her up and down, then a broad, slow smile broke across her face. “Damn, Jordana. You just found your dress.”

Dubious, she turned to face the long mirrors again.

She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her. The sleeveless red dress clung in all the right places and showed just enough leg, yet still managed to look tasteful and sophisticated. In front, its draped neckline only hinted at her curves and cleavage, while the real show was in the back.

“My father will choke on his tongue if I walk into the exhibit opening in this dress,” Jordana mused. She shook her head and could hardly bite back her giggle when she pictured all of the stunned reactions she would stir. “Elliott will be completely scandalized—possibly apoplectic.”

Carys shrugged. “That’ll be their problem. You look amazing.”

Jordana studied her reflection, wondering if it was merely the powerful hue of the fabric that intensified the ice-blue color of her eyes and made her features seem somehow bolder, indomitable. Not the good girl held back by propriety and expectation but a fearless woman ready to take on the world.

Or maybe that fierce look came from the way thoughts of Nathan had her blood running hot and quick through her veins.