"Quinn has been photographed with a parade of smoldering, brown-haired beauties in the past," Liander explained, as he began to recolor skin and hair, "so that's the look we're going for here."
"And will this goop wash out easily?" I asked, watching with a faint sense of horror as my red-gold hair became a chocolaty, hazelnut color.
"Yes. Trust me."
I did trust him, but that didn't stop the dismay. I mean, I loved my hair. Loved its color. Watching it become brown was more than a little disturbing.
But it was amazing the difference hair color, blue contacts, and a bit of fancy makeup made. It wasn't me in that mirror. It was someone else. Someone suitably smoldering enough to hang off a billionaire playboy's arm.
"Wow," Rhoan said, which was basically what I was thinking.
"We haven't finished yet." Liander's expression was pleased as he held up a scrap of vibrant red material. "Now the dress."
I gave him a deadpan look. "That is not a dress. That's a tube of fabric."
"This tube is the very latest in evening wear, and costs a sheer fortune."
"That doesn't make me like it any more."
"You'll look stunning in it."
"I'll look like a damn beacon. People will have to wear sunglasses to look at me."
Liander grinned. "We want people to look at you. We want people to admire that glorious body of yours, and not look any deeper."
I raised an eyebrow, a faint grin twitching my lips. "Glorious body? I thought you ate on the other side of the fence? What's with the sudden appreciation of the female form?"
"I may eat on the other side, as you say, but that doesn't mean I can't admire a luscious female form like yours." He lightly slapped my arm. "Stop fussing and stand up."
I did. He showed me two white cups. "Breast supports. They'll lift as well as support, and give your beautiful bounty even more prominence."
"Like I need that," I said dryly, as he lifted my boobs and slipped the supports into place.
"The more they ogle your assets, the less they ogle your face," Rhoan said with a grin. "For once, this is a good thing."
"Says the male of the species who never has to put up with men talking to their breasts rather than their face."
"There are advantages to being a male."
Like not being stripped down and rebuilt by your brother's lover. Liander handed me the so-called dress.
"What, no undies?"
"We do not need ugly panty lines with this dress."
I raised an eyebrow. "Not even ugly G-string lines?"
It was his turn to give me "the look." I grinned and wiggled into the dress. It fit like a glove, covering me breast to thigh, and left an almost indecent amount of flesh on show. "I am going to be the laughingstock of this function."
"You're going to have them drooling." Liander stepped back, his expression that of an artist studying his masterpiece. "Tug the hem down a shade more."
"Do you want my boobs all the way out?"
He grinned faintly. "No, though you have to admit, it'd definitely stop anyone recognizing your face."
The dress stayed right where it was. Half an inch more, and my nipples would be waving hello to the world. "Shoes?"
He handed me a pair of strappy, four-inch stilettos. "My favorite type," I said, running my finger down the wooden spike of the heel. "Red and ready to use."