Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (4 page)
His voice stilled in his throat. Clarise stood, a white-gloved hand at her neck while she waited for him to continue speaking. He had searched the room a few times, but for the life of him, he didn’t recall taking his gaze all the way to the back. How long had she been standing there? And if she’d been there, looking like
that,
wouldn’t he have noticed?
Her hair was up, but not in the professional twist she wore to work each day; it was full of curls, several of which had escaped captivity to tumble down and brush the pale flesh of her shoulders. And speaking of flesh . . . there was a surplus of shapeliness showcased above the red fabric attempting to contain her breasts. Ethan’s mouth was suddenly very dry. The dress looked as perfect on her as he’d promised her it would. He’d wanted her to feel beautiful; he’d suspected that she’d never experienced what his mother described as an “all eyes on me” kind of moment, but she had to be experiencing one now, because every pair of eyes in the room had followed Ethan’s gaze and were currently focused on his best friend, and, incidentally, the most gorgeous woman in the place.
Clarise’s eyes widened momentarily, then she blushed. Even from his vantage point on the stage, he could see the tinge of pink on her cheeks. Ethan smiled. He’d wanted to honor her with the award, but he was giving her more, and he couldn’t be more pleased. Clarise Robinson was finally getting the attention she deserved, both professionally and physically.
“As I said,” he continued, feeling an extra surge of pride in his decision regarding the first Pacemaker recipient, “this person has the unparalleled fashion sense that Eubanks patrons expect from our department heads, as I’m sure you’ll agree by her choice of holiday attire. I’m honored to present the first Pacemaker Award to Clarise Robinson, department head for Women’s Clothing and top salesperson for Eubanks over the past three quarters.” He held up the plaque and nodded at her, “Clarise?”
Her throat pulsed as she swallowed, then she smiled and started slowly toward the front of the room. The applause for her accomplishment died down about the time she reached the steps to the stage, and she lifted her skirt enough to keep from tripping on the red fabric. It was at that moment that Ethan noticed two additional details: 1) the long black streak down the right side of her dress, and 2) Clarise wasn’t wearing shoes. Her bare feet tiptoed up the steps, then the red-tipped toes disappeared when she dropped her skirt back into place, looked at Ethan, and silently mouthed, “You’ll never believe it.”
He fought the urge to laugh. Obviously there was a reason behind her late arrival, and he couldn’t wait to hear it. If he was going to be in town next Friday, he’d bet they would discuss it during their next coffee chat; however, he wasn’t, so he’d make sure to ask her about the shoes, and the smudge, tonight.
She stepped closer, and he saw the third noticeable detail to her appearance—a long, dark bruise down one side of her nose. Ethan swallowed. Had she been in an accident? Was that it? And why hadn’t he thought of that before? He could have at least tried to call her cell phone and make sure she was okay when she didn’t arrive on time, but no, he’d merely stood around schmoozing with his father and the Panache executives while he wondered where she was.
Not caring that they were on complete display, front and center on the stage, he reached out to touch the bruise when she neared. Was she hurt? Clarise stopped moving, then her big dark eyes lifted to his in confusion, and her throat pulsed again with a thick swallow.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, but his concerned voice magnified ten times through the microphone clipped to his lapel. His finger softly moved along the bruise, and he gasped when . . . it moved. Removing his finger, he was shocked to see it wasn’t a bruise at all; it was dirt. A swift tidal wave of relief washed over him.
She blinked at him then focused on his finger, the tip coated in black, and she laughed. “Oh, dear. We had a flat tire on the way in, and I thought I got all of the grime off. Guess I missed a spot or two.”
“You changed a tire?” he asked, his voice once again echoing through the ballroom. Several employees began to laugh as well.
“I helped,” she corrected, “and I’m afraid I got a little dirty in the process.”
Ethan suddenly remembered the multitude of Eubanks employees and Panache executives watching this exchange. He turned toward the crowd and improvised. “We can add resourceful to that list of qualities exemplified by our first Pacemaker recipient. Clarise Robinson,” he said, lifting the award from the podium, “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she said, and smiled toward the group. “It’s an honor to work for Eubanks Elegant Apparel, and I’m not surprised to hear the company is growing by leaps and bounds. And now, I’m going to attempt to add cleanliness to the traits Ethan listed for the Pacemaker by washing the tire dirt from my nose.” The crowd applauded and laughed, while Clarise turned back to Ethan, whispered another, “Thanks,” then gracefully exited the stage.
Ethan wrapped up his speech by telling everyone to enjoy the remainder of the party, then he left the stage and searched for Clarise. He found her exiting the women’s restroom. “What happened to your shoes?” he asked.
“I left them with the coat clerk,” she said, grinning. “I was so caught up in trying to help with the tire that I didn’t notice we’d pulled over on a muddy shoulder. The shoes are ruined, and I borrowed them from Babette.” She gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “Guess I’ll owe my sister a new pair of shoes. And I dirtied up the Ben de Lisi too,” she said, indicating the dark streak down the side. “I’d really wanted to look good tonight,” she said on a sigh.
He moved his hand to cup her chin, then tilted her face so those big brown eyes were staring straight into his. That pink tinge filtered up her cheeks, as she whispered, “What?”
“Have I ever lied to you, Clarise?”
She ran her top teeth over her lower lip in an adorable nervous gesture. “Not that I recall,” she said hesitantly.
“Then trust me when I tell you that you
do
look good tonight. Better than that, you’re stunning.”
As often as they’d had heart-to-hearts over coffee on Fridays, he’d never seen Clarise where she appeared speechless, until now. Maybe telling her she was stunning wasn’t exactly included in a typical friendship bill of sale, but right now he wasn’t exactly feeling mere friendship. Ethan couldn’t deny that he’d been disappointed when she’d been late, and worried when he thought she’d been hurt. Moreover when he realized that she was okay, he’d been immensely relieved. Was that how he should feel toward any friend? Desire to touch her and to verify that she was indeed unharmed? Ethan swallowed hard. He wanted to touch her again.
“Ethan,” she finally whispered.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“So, you’re heading out tomorrow?” Jake Riley’s voice boomed as he approached the two of them. Ethan smelled the alcohol on Jake’s breath and assumed Riley had helped himself one too many times to the open bar. Ethan hoped the head of his Men’s Department hadn’t done anything to embarrass the company in front of the Panache executives. “Yes, I’m leaving in the morning.”
“You’ll be back for the corporate bonding trip, though, right?” Jake asked.
“I’m planning on it,” Ethan said, frustrated that Clarise hadn’t been able to finish . . . whatever she’d been about to say. It had started with his name. Where would it have ended?
She smiled politely at Jake and took a small step back from the two men. “I’m going to find Rachel and Jesilyn,” she said. “Jesi wasn’t feeling well and thought she might want to leave early.”
“You just got here,” Jake said, drawing his brows together in an exaggerated frown. “If you want to stay, I’ll take you home.”
“Or I could,” Ethan countered, not willing to let Jake Riley behind the wheel while he was obviously inebriated, and also not willing to let Jake Riley take Clarise home, inebriated or not.
“I’ll ride with them,” Clarise said. She turned to Ethan. “I guess I’ll see you when you get back from the Panache visits? What, in a month?”
“Should be about a month,” he said. “But, like I told Jake, I do plan to attend the corporate bonding trip. You’re planning to go this time, right?”
“Yes,” she said, to which Jake responded, “Wonderful, Clarise. You’ll love Gasparilla. I’m glad you’re coming.” His voice sounded a bit more sober, and Ethan wondered whether that was such a good thing. Jake was obviously flirting with Clarise, whether she realized it or not, and although Ethan would swear he didn’t have a jealous bone in his body regarding Clarise—they were just friends, after all—he sure was feeling
something.
“I’m sure I will,” she said. “And thanks for helping us with the tire, Jake.” Then she turned and walked away, leaving the two men watching that sexy sliver of red fabric sway gently against her extreme lower back.
“I need coffee,” Jake said. “Because I’ve got the strongest urge to run after her and tell her everything I’m thinking right now, and that wouldn’t be good, would it?”
Ethan’s jaw tensed. “No, it wouldn’t,” he managed. Then he remembered her parting remark. “You helped them with the tire?”
“Well, hell, Clarise already had the thing off by the time I came along and saw Rachel’s car on the side of the road. She’s pretty good with a tire iron. Then again, the view wasn’t so bad either, her bent over in that dress and breathing all hard and heavy while she worked at taking off that wheel. I almost didn’t want to stop her, and instead just stand there and gawk.” He grinned. “But I was a gentleman and told her to let me take over.”
“That was big of you, Jake,” Ethan said, fighting the heat creeping through his veins. Four weeks he’d be traipsing across the South to examine the Panache stores. How long would it take Jake Riley to put the moves on Clarise? Not that damn long. And Jake was a known player, breaking more than his share of female hearts, many of whom were Eubanks employees. Ethan would damn well kill him if he hurt Clarise.
“She’s so prim and proper at the store that I’d never have picked her for one who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty, but she sure got them dirty all right. I was impressed with the three of them, though. When they realized Clarise’s perfect manicure was botched because of working on the tire, Rachel slid her white gloves off and gave them to her. Problem solved. You’ve got to admire a woman who is resourceful, like you said.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, definitely admiring. “Yeah, you do.”
F
our weeks had passed since the company Christmas party, which meant four weeks had passed since Clarise had seen Ethan . . . and the way he looked at her in the red dress. She’d spoken to him twice in the interim, on Christmas and New Year’s, when he called to wish her holiday greetings, friend to friend, of course. Or at least she thought it was friend to friend. He always called her on holidays, so it shouldn’t have seemed odd that he remembered to pick up the phone while he was out of town, but for some reason, it did seem odd—oddly exhilarating. She’d never gotten nervous talking to Ethan on the phone before, but then again, she’d never aggressively planned to pursue her best friend romantically before. Then again, hadn’t he sounded
different
as well? As though the conversation was moving a bit awkwardly because, maybe, they didn’t quite know whether something had changed at that Christmas party, when he touched her smudged nose in front of the crowd and asked if she was okay, because something had definitely changed on her end; had it changed on his end too? And would she be able to tell when she saw him tomorrow at Gasparilla?
Clarise had hoped he’d come home a day or two before the annual company trip, but his meetings with the Panache executives were running down to the wire, and he hadn’t been able to slice one day off of the four-week time period, which put him arriving back in Birmingham just in time to head back out. She’d wanted to see him prior to Gasparilla and to somehow prepare him for what she planned—to show him her wild and sexy side and see if he were interested at all in looking at her that way, all wild and sexy. Lord, could she even pull
wild and sexy
off?
Yes, she could, Clarise realized,
if
she had the right clothes. While she knew in her heart that she wasn’t as confident as she’d like to be regarding several aspects of life (take men, for one example, and her body, for another), Clarise had a surplus of confidence when it came to fashion. She loved apparel of all types, putting odd pieces together to create a new look and helping other people do the same, and she relished the general feeling of pride that surged through her when she knew she’d hit the mark with a customer and that the woman would truly feel her best when wearing the outfit Clarise had recommended. It was a talent, and Clarise planned to nurture it and cultivate it until she reached her final, and currently, very private, goal as a fashion buyer.
There were five main classifications of clothing, as Clarise saw them: 1) business conservative, 2) business casual, 3) formal, 4) casual fun and the last classification, which Clarise could only describe as 5) sexy-as-all-get-out, undeniably sassy and to-die-for hot. Unfortunately, she had complete ensembles for every classification except the last one, and that was what she needed for Gasparilla. Consequently, that was the only classification that she couldn’t purchase at Eubanks Elegant Apparel, which was the primary reason for her trip across town this afternoon. Tomorrow morning she’d board a plane for Tampa, and there was no way she’d make the trip with a suitcase of her conservative clothes. How in the world would she be comfortable flashing the masses—if she actually got the nerve to do it—in her designer blouses? The only way to let her wild side go was to look, well, wild. And the only way to look wild was to shop . . . where Babette shopped.
She glanced across the street and swallowed hard. The Body Boutique’s elongated windows glowed with flaming neon, not from the lighting, but from the outfits. They were a direct contrast to the navy-and-white ensembles currently gracing the window displays at Eubanks. Gleaming bright green, sizzling magenta and blinding yellow and intensified by black lights, they commanded so much attention that traffic slowed to a crawl outside the popular store.