Susan Mallery - Surrender in Silk

“But why?” Jamie asked, then realized her voice sounded uncomfortably close to a whine. She couldn’t help it. She really, really didn’t want to do this.

“It will be fun.”

She stared at the elegant lettering on the front of the upscale boutique and shook her head. “No, it won’t. It’s physically impossible to have fun while shopping.”

Zach smiled. “And here I thought all females loved to shop.”

“I’m not like other females. That’s the whole problem. I never learned how. I don’t have the shopping gene. I don’t know what’s in style or what looks good on me. Please don’t make me do this.”

She stared up at him and begged silently. His eyes darkened with something that looked like compassion. She didn’t care if he thought she was crazy or even if he pitied her. At this point, she would take a month in prison rather than face going into the store in front of them. She couldn’t do it again. Her last shopping trip, an impulsive stop she’d made on her way from the airport to the cabin, had been a disaster. She’d bought that hideous frilly blouse and full skirt. Just thinking about how awful she’d looked made her shudder. She wanted to burn those clothes and all clothes like them.

She glanced down at her casual attire of jeans, a shirt and a blazer. This was as feminine as she was likely to get.

“I thought you wanted to find balance,” Zach reminded her. “Shopping is a part of being normal.”

She grimaced. “I thought you were going to say shopping is a part of being female.”

“I have a lot of flaws, but sexism isn’t one of them.”

She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t want to.”

“I know, but it will be good for you.”

He took her arm and started to pull her toward the store. She resisted, wishing they were standing on soft earth instead of a concrete sidewalk so she could really dig her heels in.

“Jamie.” He sounded impatient.

“Just tell me why I have to do this.”

“Because we’re going out to a nice restaurant tonight, and you don’t have the right clothes.”

She fingered the lapel of her blazer. “I look fine.”

“You look great, but you’ll look even better with a cocktail dress. If you behave, I’ll even give you a surprise later.”

That caught her attention. She wondered if this surprise would take place in bed. They hadn’t been intimate since arriving in the city. Although her body was still pleasantly sated from their time at the cabin, she wouldn’t complain about a repeat performance.

“What’s the surprise?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“I want to know now.”

He glared at her. “Have you always been this stubborn?”

She nodded once. “It’s my best quality.”

“Sanders, get your butt in the store. Now!”

There didn’t seem to be any way of talking him out of the situation, so she gathered the little dignity she had left, pulled her arm free of his grasp and pushed open the glass door.

The interior was terrifying enough to make her knees quake. Frighteningly elegant furnishings, complete with antiques, subtle lighting and carpet thick enough to hide a cat. The pale walls were a neutral but warm color between white and gray. Racks of clothes stood in small collections. Jamie couldn’t tell if they were bunched by size, function or color. In her entire thirty years, she’d never been in a place like this.

There were other women shopping. Well-dressed women in coordinated outfits. Pants with fitted jackets, dresses with stockings and high heels. Well made-up women who wore jewelry and scarves and probably had an entire dresser covered with perfume bottles.

Jamie felt as if she were from another planet. A place where ugly, stupid people hid out until they were forced into landing on earth. She knew the saleswoman and other customers were going to know instantly she was inept. If she was lucky, they would just throw her back into the street and tell her to come back when she knew what she was doing.

“May I help you?”

She spun toward the voice, feeling oddly guilty, as if she’d been caught reading someone else’s mail.

“No,” she said quickly.

“Yes,” Zach said just as fast. He frowned at her, then turned his attention to the clerk. “We’re looking for a cocktail dress.”

The woman was in her midforties, with perfect, pale skin and red hair swept back into some kind of twist-bun-looking style. Jamie was sure it had an unpronounceable French name. The clerk glanced between the two of them, but her gaze never dipped below the neck. If she noticed Jamie was dressed worse than the cleaning lady, she didn’t let on.

“This way,” she said, and turned toward the back of the store.

She was dressed all in black. Slim dress, stockings and midsize pumps. Jamie wondered how she kept from falling on the thick carpet.

She walked to a gilded arch, then motioned with one outstretched arm. “Our evening wear is here. May I show you a few things, or do you know what you want?”

“I just want to look around,” Jamie muttered. It was humiliating enough that she had to find something to wear. She didn’t need witnesses.

“Very well. My name is Monique. Please let me know if I can be of assistance.”

She left them alone.

Jamie stared at all the fancy dresses. She didn’t know where to begin. “What did you have in mind?” she asked.

Zach shrugged. “Something pretty. Are you going to be okay by yourself? I have to go talk to Monique.”

She looked at him. “You’re leaving me here?”

“Is that a problem?”

She would rather be in a roomful of snakes. “No problem,” she said tightly. “I’ll be fine.” She’d been alone on mountaintops in hostile territory and survived. She could do this. Of course, on the mountaintop she’d had a gun.

She pressed her lips together when Zach actually smiled at her and walked away, leaving her in the torture house of beads and baubles. Damn him.

She fought against a feeling of helplessness. She didn’t know what to do or what to buy. She didn’t even know exactly what size she would wear in this expensive boutique. Were designer clothes bigger or smaller or the same? She vaguely recalled overhearing a conversation on the subject once, years before, but she couldn’t remember the details. She hadn’t been interested.

She circled one of the larger racks, trying to gather her courage. Thousands, millions, of women bought clothes every day. How hard could it be?

She focused on the clothing. There were mostly dresses. She saw a couple of pants outfits but didn’t think that was what Zach had in mind. She stared at the different fabrics, some soft, some beaded, some sequined, some smooth. There were too many choices.

Finally she thrust her hand in and grabbed a dress. It looked short, maybe too short. It had broad, padded shoulders, a deep neckline and lots of hanging beads. What she liked most was the color. A pale cream at the top, darkening to the color of fire at the bottom, as if the garment were a flicker of flame. She walked to the three-way mirror and held the dress up to herself.

Her eyes changed to a muddy shade of gray. All the color left her face, and her mouth looked small and pinched. She stared in astonishment, then put the dress out to one side. The color returned to her face, and her eyes were once again a pleasing shade of hazel. With the dress close to her face, she looked as if she were coming down with malaria. Without it she was fine.

“Obviously not my best color,” she said softly, and put the dress back. She felt oddly pleased, as if she’d just made an amazing discovery.

She reached for another garment. This was a two-piece outfit, a tapestry jacket with a long, soft, flowing purple skirt. Pretty, just as Zach had requested.

She returned to the mirror and held it up to her face. Her eyes deepened to blue, and her skin took on a luminous sheen. “Perfect,” she said, and glanced around for a dressing room.

Several gilded doors stood at the far end of the room. Jamie approached them cautiously, bending over to make sure one was empty before pulling on the handle.

The dressing room was nearly as large as their bedroom back at the hotel. There were mirrors on three walls, a small vanity, a wing chair and a long rod for the clothing. She hung her single dress there and tried not to think about having to go out and find something else. Surely this was going to work. Then she could pay for it and leave.

She quickly stripped down to her bra and panties. The plain cotton undergarments looked out of place in the elegant surroundings. She reached for the skirt and stepped into it. The button at her waist was a little loose. Maybe she needed a smaller size. She glanced in the mirror and smiled.

The filmy skirt fluttered around her legs like Monet’s water lilies come to life. The beautiful fabric made her feel special, feminine even. She looked at the hem falling halfway down her calves. What kind of shoes would she wear with this?

She didn’t have a clue, so she pushed the question aside and shrugged into the tapestry jacket. It was also too loose. She buttoned it up the front and stared at her reflection. She looked boxy and formless in the thick jacket. Her head seemed to shrink, and she felt old.

“It’s the fit,” she said, frustrated that something so pretty on the hanger would look so ugly on her. She reached behind her and grabbed a handful of fabric, pulling the jacket tighter in front. It still looked bad.

She sank into the chair and dropped her head into her hands. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t do it. She didn’t know how to shop or buy. She could spot jeans that would fit from halfway across a store, but real clothes were beyond her. She would have to tell Zach she was hopeless.