Make Me Bad(39)

“Oh dear,” I lament, shaking my head. “It’s too good. The moms won’t leave you alone.”

He gives me a broody look, and OH MY GOD, is he doing it on purpose?! He is Mr. Darcy!

“Where’s your dress?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

He’s fidgeting with his tailored black jacket. It’s a little too small, which means his biceps are in danger of busting through the seams. I have to lean against a wall to support myself.

“In there. I’ll change. Just…stay out here in case I need your help with it.”

I’ve read enough historical fiction novels to know how to slip into one of these oversized dresses. The thing is, the women in the novels usually have a lady’s maid to assist them in tightening the corset. I only have myself, and I can’t quite reach the laces.

I’m wearing a thin cotton chemise underneath, so it’s not as if I should be nervous for Ben to come in and help me. Still, I hesitate for a good long while, attempting to do it myself but failing.

He knocks on the door. “What are you doing in there? Did a box of books just tumble to the floor?”

Yes, I just bumped into a shelf while jumping around, trying to reach the corset loops. Books are scattered everywhere. I can’t do this on my own.

I groan and fling the door open.

“Come in—quick.”

His eyes are wide. I glance down in embarrassment. Please tell me my boobs are put away. Thankfully, I’m mostly covered up. The top of my chest and shoulders are bare in the traditional style of dresses like this, but I’m not so indecent that he has to look at me like that.

Women go to clubs in less clothing than this.

I spin around and explain what I need him to do.

“Just lace it up and tighten the corset,” I say, like we do this sort of thing together every day.

He steps forward, brows furrowed, and then pushes my long hair over my shoulder.

“This dress is ridiculous. There’s so much material you won’t be able to walk.”

I blush. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for. Usually in my historical novels, when the handsome duke stumbles upon the fair lady in her evening gown, he’s so beside himself, he feels an all-consuming urge to seduce her that instant. We should be tumbling against the shelves, knockings things off, ferociously kissing like we’re two animals in heat.

In reality, Ben grumbles under his breath as he tightens the laces. I can feel the heat of his touch through the chemise. He cinches the garment too much. I can hardly breathe.

“Are you almost done?” I ask. My voice sounds like it came out of a mouse.

“Not if you don’t stand still.”

His hands grip my waist and he squeezes.

Apparently, I’m fidgeting. Hot. Bothered.

He ties the laces together at the bottom and steps back.

I turn around and hold out my arms. “What do you think?”

He clears his throat, glances away, and when he looks back, his gaze is narrowed. “I think it’s a little much for a toddler story time.”

I glance down and laughter erupts out of me. “Oh jeez.”

My breasts have been pushed up and forced together to form a tantalizing amount of cleavage. Even I’m slightly turned on by the sight. I look like a serving wench. I yank the chemise higher, covering my décolletage and transforming the look into something a bit more modest.

“How about now?” I ask, peering up at him from beneath my lashes.

He grunts and rolls his neck. He’s truly annoyed with me. “It’s fine.”

I smile then and reach out to poke him in the chest. “Relax, will you? This is supposed to be fun.”

“Fun? Try torture.”

I bristle at his remark. Fine. If he wants to turn this day into something sour, I won’t stop him. I am, however, in a kickass gown, and I intend to enjoy every minute of it. I roll my eyes then make a move to walk around him and leave the storage room.

His hand juts out to stop me. His fingers wrap around my arm.

“You look…” He clears his throat and looks away. “The dress is fine.”

THE DRESS IS FINE?!

“Wow, you have such a way with words.”

He smirks then, finally letting go of his annoyance.

“The dress is very…blue.”

I throw my hands up and walk out. He trails after me, calling down the hall.

“I’ve got it now—it’s poofy! How’s that? Better?”

As retribution, I force him into a more prominent role during story time. He has to read a children’s version of Sense and Sensibility aloud in the front of the kids while I stand to the side. Every mom in attendance sends me a silent thank you. I’ve never seen them quite so riveted to a children’s book before. It is a cute book, but that’s definitely not what they care about. When he’s done, a few of them linger, asking Ben about the book and where they can get it. Then the questions turn a tad more personal.

“…is that your costume…”

“…oh, it’s just a rental?”

“…how long do you have it for…”

I titter as I clean up, appreciating every minute of his torture.

He gets the last laugh, though, because I was very excited to go out to lunch with him just like we did last Saturday. Unfortunately, he already made plans with his dad. Through a Herculean effort, I make it seem like that’s totally fine. Cool.