The Summer of Sunshine and Margot(33)

“All right,” Margot said, looking at them then turning to her client. “What is the message you’re trying to send tonight?”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It might help to think about events with Wesley as more than simply a social evening. What you’d wear to dinner in Malibu isn’t the same thing you’d wear to a formal reception for a visiting dignitary. For our purposes, tonight is a cocktail reception. You’re Wesley’s fiancée. Based on the fact that we’re pretending this is for his work, then he’s representing his country. You’re with him as the woman in his life, so in a way, you’re doing the same. What message do you want to send to other guests?”

“Oh, I see what you’re saying. What message?” Bianca thought for a second, then grinned. “That I have a rockin’ hot bod.”

Margot pressed her lips together. “While that’s true, I’m not sure it’s helpful to Wesley.”

“Sure it is. If he can get the girl with the rockin’ hot bod, he has power.”

“Doesn’t he have power anyway? And if this is a Wesley event, perhaps the attention shouldn’t all be on you.”

“But I like all the attention. It’s who I am.”

Margot wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she kept quiet. Bianca looked back at the dresses she’d chosen.

“You want something more boring.”

“I want something beautiful and appropriate. When it’s just you and Wesley, wear what you’d like, but when it’s for business, dress for the occasion. You’ll still have a rockin’ hot bod—but the image you present will be slightly more subtle. Think of this as a performance. You wouldn’t wear spandex to play Lady Macbeth.”

“I wouldn’t ever play Lady Macbeth. Shakespeare was never my thing, but I get your point.” One corner of her mouth turned up. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll wear whatever you decide and you’ll wear whatever I decide. We’re about the same size.”

Margot didn’t like the sound of that. Not only was she several inches taller than Bianca, she was fairly sure she was a size or two larger.

“It will be fun,” Bianca coaxed.

“I don’t trust you,” Margot said bluntly.

Bianca laughed. “You probably shouldn’t. All right—I’ll go first so you can see I’m playing fair.”

She went to the racks of dresses and began to go through them. She started on a second rack, then a third before pulling out a lipstick-red dress.

On the hanger it didn’t look like much at all—just skinny straps and a longish skirt. But there was something about the way it hung awkwardly that gave her pause.

“I’m not sure,” she began.

Bianca shook it at her. “Try it on. I insist and, up until now, I’ve been a very cooperative client.”

“That’s true,” Margot murmured, taking the dress and heading for the attached bathroom. “But I know I’m going to regret this.”

She walked into the marble and glass bathroom. There was a huge walk-in shower, a soaking tub that could easily host a party, double sinks, a mile of vanity space and an entire wall of mirrors. There was genuinely no escaping her reflection.

Margot placed the hanger on a hook by the shower and immediately realized the reason the dress didn’t look right was because it was clipped in place—the straps were in fact little more than strings.

Her stomach sank as she took the dress off the hanger and stared at it. There were cutouts. Bunches of them.

“This is a nightmare,” she said aloud, then sighed heavily and unzipped her very plain, light gray sheath and let it slide to the floor. She took off her bra, because there was no way it would work, then slipped on Bianca’s dress. Once it was in place, she sucked in her breath and pulled up the zipper. Miraculously, it closed easily. Then Margot faced herself in the mirror.

It wasn’t as bad as she thought. The color was vibrant and flattering. The bodice fabric dipped to a deep V between her breasts, but was reinforced so there would be no unexpected wardrobe malfunction. There was a good-size cutout on each side of her waist which looked sexy but actually didn’t show much. The skirt wasn’t that tight and fell nearly to her knee. If she ignored the fact that she was showing more cleavage than usual, the dress was really okay. She hung up her sheath, then stepped back into the bedroom.

Bianca sat on the edge of the bed, her expression expectant. When she saw Margot, she clapped her hands together. “I love it! You look great. See—show a little skin and the world is your oyster.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the saying goes, but I get your point. You think I should add a little fun to my wardrobe.”

“I think you should add a lot of sex to it. You’re young and single. Trust me, you’ll be old soon enough and then you’ll regret all the wonderful things you didn’t wear.”

“Do you regret that?”

Bianca laughed. “No. I wasn’t sharing an insight, Margot. I was really talking about you. Regrets? Not like that.” She laughed again, then bounded to her feet. “So you’ll wear it tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so glad. All right, a deal’s a deal. Dress me for a funeral. I’ll try not to complain.”