Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(55)

The apartment featured a combination living room/kitchenette and separate bedroom, which ran parallel to Bobby Tom’s weight room. Her bedroom faced the rear of his house, and when she’d been unable to sleep last night, she’d gotten up, only to discover she wasn’t the only insomniac. Below her, she’d seen the flickering silver light of the television coming from the window of his office.

The bright sunlight fell on Suzy’s drawn features, making Gracie feel guilty for imposing on her. “We don’t have to do this today.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Her response seemed genuine, so Gracie didn’t protest further. At the same time, she realized she needed to be honest with Suzy. “I’m embarrassed about this phony engagement. I tried to convince him that the whole idea is ridiculous.”

“Not from his viewpoint. People here are always after him for one thing or another. If this gives him a little peace while he’s in town, I’m all for it.” She dismissed the subject as she turned toward Main Street. “We’re lucky to have a wonderful boutique in town. Millie will take good care of you.”

The word “boutique” rang alarm bells in Gracie’s head. “Is it expensive?”

“That doesn’t matter. Bobby Tom’s taking care of everything.”

“He’s not buying my clothes,” she said quietly. “I won’t permit it. I’ll be buying them myself, and I’m afraid I’m on a limited budget.”

“Of course he’s paying. This was his idea.” Gracie shook her head stubbornly.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Very serious.”

Suzy seemed bemused. “Bobby Tom always pays.”

“Not for me.”

For a moment Suzy didn’t say anything. Then she smiled and made a U-turn. “I love challenges. There’s an outlet mall about thirty miles from here. This is going to be fun.”

For the next three hours, Suzy performed like a drill sergeant, leading her from one discount store to another, where she searched out bargains like a bloodhound. She paid no attention to Gracie’s own preferences and, instead, dressed her in the sort of youthful, provocative clothes Gracie would never have dared choose for herself. Suzy selected a gauzy skirt and silky jewel-toned blouse, a watermelon pink tank dress that fell open from mid-thigh to calf, stonewashed jeans with stretchy ribbed knit tops, scandalously short skirts, cotton sweaters that clung to her breasts. Gracie tried on belts and necklaces, sandals and flats, Keds with rhinestones and free-form silver earrings. By the time the last of the garments was packed away in the trunk of the Lexus Gracie had wiped out a huge chunk of her savings. She felt dazed and more than a little nervous.

“Are you sure?” She glanced down at the hot red romper that had been their final purchase. Its off-the-shoulder bodice clung so tightly to her skin that she couldn’t wear a bra, and the knit fabric sparkled with gold-tone studs. A two-inch gold metallic belt separated the clingy bodice from the looser-fitting shorts, and her sensible espadrilles had been replaced by a pair of strappy little lipstick red sandals. The outfit made her feel as if she were pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

For what seemed to be the hundredth time that afternoon, Suzy reassured her. “It’s darling on you.”

Gracie fought to control her panic. Homely women didn’t wear “darling” clothes. She seized on what she saw as a valid excuse to explain her continued hesitation.

“These sandals don’t supply very much arch support.”

“Do you have trouble with your arches?”

“No. But maybe that’s because I’ve always worn sensible shoes.”

Suzy smiled and patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Gracie. You look wonderful.”

“I don’t look like myself.”

“I think you look exactly like yourself. And I say it’s about time.”



Who the hell was driving his T-bird? And driving it too damned fast! Bobby Tom spotted the rooster tail of dust from half a mile away and grabbed his script from the top of the corral post where he’d propped it to study the scene they were shooting that afternoon.

The T-bird turned off the road, still kicking up dust, and pulled to a squealing stop next to his trailer. As he squinted against the glare of the setting sun, he saw a hot little number dressed in red step out of the car, and his blood pressure soared. Dammit! Gracie was the only person who had permission to drive his T-bird. He’d asked her to pick it up from Buddy’s Garage after she’d finished with her shopping, but she’d obviously decided to teach him another one of her lessons by cajoling some predatory female into doing the job.

He set his jaw and stalked forward, still squinting from the sun as he tried to make out who it was, but he couldn’t see much more than a nice little body, short sexy hair, and a face partially hidden by small round sunglasses. He swore to himself that he was going to have Gracie’s hide for this. She knew better than anyone that their phony engagement was supposed to protect him from just this sort of thing.

And then he froze in his tracks as the sun picked out familiar coppery lights in that flyaway hair. His gaze slithered down over the nicely proportioned body and slender legs to a neat pair of ankles he would have recognized anywhere, and he felt as if he’d been poleaxed. At the same time, he called himself ten kinds of a fool. He was the one who had arranged for Gracie’s make-over. Why hadn’t he been better prepared for the results?