In each and every way, we seemed like the perfect loving couple. But we weren’t—there still managed to be a wall between us, preventing us from taking it to the next level. As much as I hated it, Rhys kept things strictly platonic. He never sat too close to me on the couch or held my hand when we were out exploring the city. I was trying to be patient and go with the flow, hoping that things would change, but my patience was starting to wear thin the more time went by.

But tonight was the change I desperately was hoping for. Earlier in the week, I had accepted an invitation to a party at his parents’ house. So far, Rhys had never taken me there. We had hung out strictly at my house. While I had met his mother at the bachelor auction, I couldn’t help thinking that the invitation truly meant something more.

So once again, I found myself living a Cinderella-esque lifestyle where I dashed in from work to get ready for the ball with my handsome prince. After the bitch had made snide comments about my dress last time, I was determined not to face that again this time. While I was completely ready to spend far too much out of my savings on something posh, Cassie once again came through for me. Through her family connections, I was able to borrow a dress from an upscale store. The only catch was I would have to model for them in their fall collection show, which I guess wasn’t so bad. With my height, barely there boobs, and small frame, I had been courted to model before. But just like performing, it wasn’t for me. I was much too shy for the limelight, and I much preferred staying behind the scenes with fashion design.

As I slid the gold tube of lipstick over my lips, I put the final touches on my appearance. With my reflection staring back at me in the full-length mirror, I couldn’t help feeling just like Cinderella. The store had really come through in the most perfect dress imaginable. It was satin and strapless in a deep red, almost wine color. From the bust to the waist, the crisscrossing design fit me like a second skin before flowing out around my hips. Rather than the magnolia necklace, I was wearing the pearls Jake and Abby had given me for my high school graduation. And on my feet were the sexiest strappy heels that matched the color of the dress.

Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, I realized it was almost time for Rhys to pick me up. I grabbed the glittery clutch purse I would be carrying and then hurried down the hall. In the kitchen, I could hear Cassie chattering away with two of our other roommates, Kelly and Tammy. When I appeared in the doorway, I received several whistles. I couldn’t help grinning. “Thank you.”

“You’re going to knock ’em dead tonight,” Cassie said.

Sticking my foot out from beneath the dress, I asked, “Are you sure these heels aren’t too much?”

“No, they’re sexy as hell,” Cassie replied, to which Kelly and Tammy nodded.

“They just don’t feel like me.” Running my hand over the satin, I sighed. “I guess that none of it feels like me.”

Cassie shook her head. “You look absolutely sensational, heels and all. You’re dressing the part that’s expected for you tonight. Be thankful that Rhys seems to appreciate you just as much when you’re in jeans and smelling of tomato sauce after work.”

I laughed. “I guess you’re right.” The sound of a car pulling up interrupted anymore of my self-deprecating tirade.

“Is that him?” Tammy asked.

“I hope so,” I replied.

“Daaaamn, Rhys has one sweet-ass ride!” Cassie exclaimed. When I turned around, she was at the window, peeking outside through the blinds.

“Would you please stop that? It makes you look totally creepy spying on him like that.”

“I’m not spying. I’m being a concerned homeowner. A strange car pulled into the drive, so I am checking it out.”

Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “You’re impossible.”

“What kind of car does he have?” Tammy asked, joining Cassie at the window.

“You know I don’t know anything about cars.”

Cassie flipped the blinds again. “Hmm, it’s definitely a classic. Maybe a ’60’s Ferrari or Porsche.”

“Yeah, it’s old. It was left to him in his grandfather’s will.”

“Sweet,” Tammy said.

At the ring of the doorbell, I skidded across the floor in my uber-high stilettos. “Once again, I’m thinking these shoes were a mistake.”

Just as I threw open the door, Cassie called over her shoulder in a not discreet voice, “Would you stop already? Seriously, those are the sexiest ‘come-fuck-me-heels’ I’ve ever seen you wear. They sure as hell give me a lady boner, so I can’t imagine Rhys not springing some wood at the sight of them.”

Mortification rocketed through my body as Rhys stood before me, hearing every. Single. Word. Of course, the first thing he did was eye my shoes, which were on display a little more than usual since I’d been holding up the hem of my dress to run to the door. Once he’d had his fill, he glanced back up at me. A sexy smirk curved on his lips. “Nice heels.”

“T-Thank you.” Not only did my heartbeat accelerate at his smirk, but moisture dampened my panties.

“I’d say I agreed with Cassie on the ‘come fuck me’ status, but that would probably be inappropriate.”

No, it wouldn’t. In fact we should ditch the party so you could ‘come fuck me’ right now. Tuning the inappropriate thoughts from my mind, I said, “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

I’d been so distracted by the shoes comment that it took me a moment to process what Rhys had on. Blinking several times, I fought the urge to brace a hand on the doorjamb, so I wouldn’t slide into a puddle of lust on the floor. “You’re wearing a kilt?” I questioned lamely.

His cocky smirk faded and was replaced by a sheepish look as he glanced down at himself. “I guess I forgot to mention that my parents’ party recognizes Tartan Day.” At what I imagined was still my deer-in –the-headlights expression, he continued on. “It’s when people with Scottish heritage celebrate the Declaration of Arbroath.”

“I didn’t realize you had such strong Scottish roots. I mean, I kinda gathered your family origin from your last name.”

“Yeah, my great-great grandfather was a lord with a pretty expansive estate.”

My brows shot up at his declaration. “Does that mean I should start addressing you as ‘my lord’?”

He laughed. “Not quite. My great-grandfather was the fifth son, so he didn’t get to inherit the title.”

“I see.”

Cassie came to join me at my side. She gave a low whistle at the sight of Rhys. “Look at you, stylin’ and profilin’ in a skirt. Didn’t take you for a cross-dresser.”

With a good-natured chuckle, Rhys replied, “It’s a kilt, not a skirt.”

Cassie motioned to his crotch. “You free ballin’ under there?”

Although my mind had certainly gone there, I still let out a horrified gasp at Cassie’s question. Rhys wagged a finger at Cassie. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Whatever,” Cassie replied.

Wanting to escape before the conversation got any crazier, I said, “We should go. We don’t want to be late.”

Rhys nodded and then opened the door for me. After saying goodbye to Cassie and the others, we headed out onto the porch and then down the stairs. As he held open the car door for me, Rhys gave me a genuine smile. “I meant to tell you earlier, but I was a distracted. You look very beautiful tonight, Allison.”

The sincerity with which he said the words, coupled with the way he was looking at me, caused my cheeks to warm while a delighted shiver ran down my spine. “Thank you.”

After I sank down on the leather seat, Rhys leaned in rather than closing the door. “And I’m really glad you’re wearing a long dress to cover those heels. They’re awfully distracting.”

My stomach flip-flopped at his words. It didn’t help matters that he gave me a teasing wink as he shut the door. While he went around the front of the car, I tried smoothing down my dress—anything to try to get a hold of my raging hormones.

When he got into the car, I couldn’t help cutting my eyes over to see how he maneuvered himself in the kilt. He must’ve had practice because he managed, unfortunately, not to flash more than the tops of his knees. We drove along the streets with the radio playing softly in the background. I was anxious to see where Rhys lived. I imagined it was somewhere in the Historic District—some pre-Civil War home that had been in his family for generations.

As we neared Forsyth Park, Rhys turned off on a street I’m not familiar with. It doesn’t take me long to spot his house, or I should say, mansion. It’s the one where expensive cars are lining up to the valet stand. It’s pretty much everything I envisioned in my mind. Instead of waiting for the valet, Rhys pulled into the driveway that wound around to the back of the house.

After turning off the car, he glanced over at me. “Pretentious, isn’t it?”

“It’s magnificent. I love antebellum homes.”

“Well, it’s from the 1830s.”

“I can’t wait to see inside.”

“Then let’s go.” Rhys then climbed out of the car and came around for me. Once he opened the door, I slid out, careful not to stumble on my heels.

When we continued up the pathway to the back of the house, I couldn’t help asking, “We aren’t going in the front?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “And have to pass through the doorman and all that bullshit? I don’t want any part of that.”

“Oh,” I murmured.

“What do you mean ‘oh’?” he questioned, as he walked ahead of me.

“I just thought you might be embarrassed of me,” I murmured.

Skidding to a stop on the brick walkway, Rhys stared at me with an incredulous expression. “You are not serious?”