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  "I'll make a deal with you. Put it on. If it fits, you agree to try on the rest of the clothes. If it doesn't, I'll have Margo take all these back and bring the size you want."

  Now he was making sense. She nodded and waited for him to leave.

  He didn't.

  "I said I'd try it on," she said.

  "Do it now."

  With a frustrated sigh, she stepped into the dress, turning her back so he could zip it up.

  He slipped the zipper up in one easy move and Faith turned around to look in the mirror.

  Dear God. That was her body? The dress fit like it was part of her skin, hugging every curve. It was made of the softest silk and cashmere, 76

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  with long, tight-fitting sleeves. And instead of ending at her calves like her usual clothes, it stopped at mid-thigh, making her legs look long and slender instead of short and pudgy.

  "Wow," Ryan commented.

  He stood behind her and assessed her from her face to her feet.

  "Wow," he said again.

  He seemed to like that word a lot. Admittedly, she felt the same way as she perused herself in the mirror. And she'd never once in her entire life said wow about her own reflection.

  Their eyes met and lingered. The dressing room suddenly seemed to shrink.

  "That dress fits, Faith. Perfectly."

  She couldn't believe, wouldn't believe that was actually her in the mirror.

  "Look how it hugs your shoulders and arms, dips in the waist and swells out over your hips." He trailed his hand lightly down her arms, circling her waist briefly before caressing her hips and lingering there.

  Her breathing stilted as she tried to control her body's response to his touch. His hands lazily clenched her hips, drawing her subtly against the front of him. Her butt connected with his hips and she sucked in a surprised breath at the sizzling contact.

  She watched them in the mirror, his large hand squeezing and releasing the flesh at her hips. She knew he could feel her rapid inhalations against his chest, but for the life of her she couldn't regulate her breathing. Not when he touched her like that.

  "This dress was made for you," he murmured, his breath warm as it ruffled against her neck. "You look gorgeous."

  He had her, and he knew it. So did she.

  "I...I guess the size is right after all. You can go get Margo and I'll try on the rest."

  He didn't let go of her quite yet, seeming to enjoy running his hands over her. The evidence of how much he enjoyed it pressed hard against www.samhainpublishing.com 77

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  her lower back. She inhaled and held her breath, suspended in time, not wanting this moment to end. No man had ever looked at her the way Ryan did, with pure, unadulterated heat in his gaze. If she was at all experienced, she'd know what to do about that. But since she wasn't, all she could do was stare back at him, wishing she were a different person--more worldly, so she could take him up on the promise in his eyes.

  Faith's legs wobbled. Could Ryan feel her trembling?

  With a sigh, he stepped back and walked out of the room, dissolving the spell. And then she could breathe again. Damn, but the man did strange things to her. Her pulse raced so fast it took a moment for the world to right itself. And all he'd done was look at her.

  What was going to happen when they made love?

  She wasn't certain she'd live through the experience.

  The masochistic saleswomen returned and subjected her to severe clothing torture. From work suits to dresses for both casual and social events, she was certain she had tried on every single item on the third floor. All in the size Margo picked. And from designers she'd only read about in women's fashion magazines.

  Then she was required to parade herself in front of Ryan so he could see each outfit. She could tell which ones he liked because his eyes lit up and he cast her that smoldering look she was growing uncomfortably familiar with. The man had great taste. Every outfit she loved, he loved.

  The ones she cringed at the thought of wearing brought no spark from his eyes.

  When she was certain they were through with the fashion show, the women brought out the accessories. Lingerie in every style and fabric, multiple colors and patterns. Bras, panties, garters, stockings, bustiers, chemises, slips and nightgowns. Faith had to choose the ones she liked while trying to think of anything but the fact that her husband might see her in them.

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  By the time they moved to shoes and handbags, trying different ensembles to go with different outfits, she was ready to scream from exhaustion.

  When the ordeal ended, Faith went to change back into her old clothes.

  "Mr. McKay informed us that you get to choose which of these to wear," Margo said.

  Spread before her were her old clothes, plus a short, black, body-hugging skirt and a white silk blouse with matching lingerie. And of course, complementary shoes.

  Now what? Clearly, Ryan had taken her on this expedition to buy her a new outfit. She'd hurt his feelings if she reappeared in her old, loose clothing. After all, he'd gone to all this trouble and had patiently waited while she tried on all the clothes.

  With a last, longing glance at her comfortable clothes, she chose the new outfit, receiving a gush of praise from Margo.

  She emerged from the dressing room and found Ryan at the sales register with Margo.

  "Have them delivered by tonight," he instructed as he signed the sales slip.

  "Absolutely," Margo replied, barely able to keep her smile from taking over her annoyingly perfect face.

  When they walked away, Faith tugged Ryan's arm. "How many of those outfits did you buy?"

  "Just a few."

  Admittedly, the clothes felt wonderful. They weren't baggy like her clothes normally were, and she felt somewhat scandalous wearing the super short skirt. But she also felt good. Very good. Like maybe she was even dressed in style.

  Still, she was thankful the ordeal was over.

  They had lunch at the store's trendy bistro, and Faith hadn't realized how hungry she was until the waiter placed her shrimp salad in front of www.samhainpublishing.com 79

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  her. All that shopping had worked up an appetite. And extreme exhaustion. She'd be glad to go home.

  But Ryan had another surprise for her. After lunch they headed downstairs. Instead of leaving the store, he led her to the hair salon.

  This couldn't be happening.

  They were greeted by the owner of the salon, a tall, thin, very enthusiastic man named John, who apparently had been expecting them.

  "You must be Faith," John said, taking her arm and leading her into the salon. He squinted as he examined her bound-up hair, then turned to Ryan. "This may take several hours."

  "Fine," Ryan said as he handed John his card. "Call my cell phone when you're done."

  Before she could utter a word, Ryan had left and John led her to his chair, chattering on about how they must do something with her nest of hair.

  They discussed hairstyles, and she resisted. They talked about highlights, and she balked. But John was relentless and Faith was tired.

  Truthfully, his suggestions had some merit. She'd needed a haircut for quite awhile, but had put it off as frivolous. Who was going to see her hair, anyway? And who would care? But now that John held her prisoner in his salon, maybe something new wouldn't be a bad idea.

  For the next two hours she endured coloring, cutting, shampooing, blow drying and waxing. She'd been subjected to almost every form of cruel torture John and his crew could think of. This was how women got glamorous?

  But when he'd finished and turned her towards the mirror, her mouth opened in shock.

  Who was that woman staring back in the mirror? Surely, not her.

  John had cut her long, thick hair to shoulder length. He'd given her wispy bangs that brus
hed her eyebrows, which were two now instead of one. So that's what the wax was for.

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  And instead of her dull brown color, he had added subtle highlights that made her sable hair shine against the light. He told her it would only take a few minutes to fix her hair each day. He also warned her if she continued to twist it up in an unsightly bun she'd most likely be bald by the time she was thirty-five.

  Faith threw John a dubious look but he stared her down effectively.

  Okay, then. No more buns. She no longer had long enough hair to pull into a bun anyway.

  It was amazing what a little makeup could do for her. Vanessa, the girl who did her makeup, said her face had a natural beauty, which Faith surmised was her way of getting a big tip. Vanessa showed her how to apply a small amount of eye shadow, mascara and a hint of blush to bring out the creamy color in her complexion.

  Faith had to admit the girl worked wonders. She didn't look made up or glamorous, just natural. And, almost attractive. Sort of. But then again she was at a beauty salon, where they could make even the homeliest woman seem passable.

  Faith waited for Ryan at the reception area. When he returned, he walked right past her to the counter. Maybe she had been hidden in the corner too much and he hadn't noticed her. She watched as he paid John and then looked around.

  "Where's my wife?" he asked John.

  As if he'd just created life from dead body parts, John swept his hand to Ryan's left. "Right in front of you."

  Ryan turned and his eyes opened wide. Faith stood as he approached her, feeling suddenly nervous.

  He didn't say anything, just cocked his head to the side and looked at her. Faith felt her face warm under his scrutiny.

  Ryan didn't like the way she looked, it was obvious. His eyebrows knit together as if he were trying to figure out a complicated puzzle.

  "You're stunning," he said, his eyes alight with pleasure.

  Try as she might she couldn't hold back the smile, nor the tears that threatened.

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  "Thank you."

  He reached toward her face and plucked her glasses off before she could utter a protest.

  "Do you really need these to see?"

  She tried not to meet his eyes as she pondered the walls of the salon.

  "Sort of."

  "What does that mean?"

  "I do need them, but only for reading."

  "Then why do you wear them all the time?"

  "I don't know. So I don't lose them?"

  Ryan shook his head and folded her glasses, tucking them into her purse. "You don't need them to walk with me. Come on."

  He grabbed her hand and they walked silently out of the store. Faith stole glances at Ryan's profile. His brows knit together in that familiar way. Was he annoyed?

  Now what? He didn't like the way she looked, that was it.

  This whole makeover thing hadn't been her idea anyway. She'd been happy with the way she was before. Her clothes, her hair, everything.

  She hadn't wanted to change anything--he had.

  She worried her bottom lip as she thought about why he'd be unhappy. Maybe it was disappointment. Maybe he thought she'd turn into this raving beauty, only to find she wasn't any different than before.

  Oh, he'd been nice to her by telling her she was stunning, but he was probably being more polite than honest.

  He'd gone to all this trouble today, only to discover she wasn't changeable.

  Her mother had always reminded her of that old saying, You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Faith didn't really care for the sow's ear idea, but she certainly was no silk purse.

  They arrived home a short time later and Ryan headed into his office and closed the door. Faith endured the house staff's fawning and telling 82

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  her how lovely she looked, knowing they were simply being polite. She thanked them, then escaped to the safety of her room to be alone.

  For the longest time she stood in front of the full length mirror reviewing her new clothes and appearance. She shook her head and walked away.

  Some things were better left unchanged.

  *

  Ryan tried for the fifteenth time to read the newest proposal for improvements and expansion at the hotel, but he couldn't concentrate on business.

  Instead, his mind wandered to the incredibly beautiful brunette he'd married. Her hair shined like mink and her crystal blue eyes sparkled like diamonds. And those shapely legs teased him, peeking out under the sinfully short skirt she'd worn home from the store.

  He dropped his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. What had he done?

  When he'd seen her at the salon, he'd felt an instant rush of heat that almost knocked him down. The transformation had been incredible. All he really wanted to do was give her a little lift, make her feel better about herself, and quiet the gossips at the office who'd insulted her.

  Instead he'd played Frankenstein and created a monster. A petite, gorgeous monster who threatened to turn him into a raving sex maniac right in the middle of the hair salon.

  It was all too much. First, trying to have a normal conversation in the dressing room while she'd been wearing that hot and sexy black underwear had him hard and in agony instantly. Then, that dress she'd tried on molded to her every curve and he'd wanted to strip her naked and make love to her right then and there.

  The moment his gaze had settled on her at the salon, he'd wanted to pull her against him and drag his fingers through her silky hair, grasp it in his hands and pull her mouth against his. He'd fought the raging urge www.samhainpublishing.com 83

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  to ravage her full lips with hot kisses and snake his hands over her body and down those luscious legs until...

  Until what? Obviously, he couldn't have done any of those things in public. But he'd wanted to. God, how he'd wanted to.

  Well, now he'd done it. He'd made his wife desirable. More so than she already had been. At least before it had been subtle. Now, she stood right out there. And he had almost two months to wait before he could make love to her.

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was aching and hard and using every ounce of restraint he possessed to keep from going to her and putting an end to this ridiculous wait. His body pulsated with the need to cover her body with his, to drive into her moist heat and feel the agonizing pleasure of releasing inside her.

  He raised his head, suddenly shocked at where his thoughts had drifted.

  He needed to get her pregnant. That was it. Not because he desired her. He didn't have those kinds of needs. This was a physical thing only.

  And a business arrangement. Nothing more.

  But, he had almost let it get personal. And getting involved with Faith, with any woman for that matter, went completely against his standards. No way was he going to fall in love. Ever.

  He'd been personal witness to the havoc created by so-called love, and wanted no part of it.

  So, something had to change. Ryan had to convince Faith to have sex with him sooner. He needed to get her pregnant so he could leave her alone, stop thinking about her, stop wanting her.

  It was a simple matter, really. Ryan was an expert at getting women into bed. And Faith was a woman, just like any other. All he had to do was set a plan in motion and it would be only a matter of time until she leaped into bed with him, thereby satisfying both his physical desires and his business needs.

  Seduction. Ryan tapped his pencil against the desk and formulated a plan, smiling when it came to him.

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  In no time at all he'd have Faith in his bed, and then quickly thereafter out of his thoughts.

  Round one was about to begin.

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  Chapter Seven

  It didn't take long for the men to come crawling out of the woodwork.

  Ryan peeked outside his door. Faith worked away, oblivious to the number of guys strolling up and down the hallway. Dressed in her well-tailored black Armani suit and matching pumps, she was the epitome of fashion.

  The blue silk blouse brought out the sapphire of her eyes. The silk stockings and three-inch heels made her legs stand out like they never had before. Especially since the skirt of her suit ended a few inches above her knee.

  She oozed style, class and elegance.

  Gone was the plain wallflower, and in its stead a beautiful, desirable butterfly.

  Ryan hadn't realized how many butterfly-hunters populated his executive offices. Men who hadn't left their desks in months suddenly found reasons to stroll by Faith's office, stopping to say hello and tell her how nice she looked.

  Did they think he wouldn't notice?

  Faith didn't pay any attention to them. Whenever someone came by, she smiled, engaged in minimal conversation and then resumed her work.

  Didn't she know these guys were hitting on her?

  On her. His wife. The woman who was taken, unavailable, married.

  To him.

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  Okay, so they were married in name only. But the guys sniffing around her didn't know that. And he didn't like them ogling her. In fact, he was downright pissed off about it.

  Maybe he'd send out a memo.

  He cringed at his wandering thoughts. He could see it now.

  Memo to all male members of executive staff: Stop looking at my wife.

  She's mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.

  Yeah, that would be professional, not to mention mature.

  Disgusted, he tossed his paperwork aside and stepped to the doorway for the fifth time in the past half hour. Faith glanced up and smiled.

  "Did you need something?" she asked.

  Yes. I need you. Naked. In my office, on my desk, right now. "No, thanks." He turned and went back to his desk.

  This was ridiculous. He was losing it, acting like a lovesick schoolboy.

  And where the hell had this possessive streak come from? It wasn't like him at all to care whether a woman he was dating was getting hit on by another guy.

  Then again, Faith wasn't a woman he was dating. She was his wife.

  In name only.

  He really hated that voice inside his head right now.