“I like this one,” she said, wishing there was a way to add about two inches to her chest.
Marie nodded her agreement. “Yes. It’s very pretty. There are some bronze sandals.” She snapped out an order and sent the assistant scurrying.
Zara looked at herself from all angles. “This is great. Maybe I should ask Sabrina if this dress is all right,” she murmured, hoping her new almost-sister wouldn’t scratch her eyes out instead of giving an opinion.
“She will love it. While you do that, I’ll check on your sister.”
“Great.”
The dress was exactly the right length, Zara noted as she followed Marie back into the living room. The assistant handed her a pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals that fitted perfectly. Zara stepped out into the hallway, then paused when she realized she didn’t have a clue as to where she was supposed to go. How did people in the palace keep track of each other? Was there a palace operator or maybe a beeper system?
Before she could figure out what to do, a door opened a few feet down the hall. She almost wasn’t surprised when Rafe stepped out.
“What is it with you?” she asked before he could speak. “Do you have a light that goes off in your room if I leave mine?”
He looked her up and down. “You look nice. Is that for tonight?”
His compliment made her feel all soft and gooey inside. Then she remembered the very intimate conversation they’d had the previous night and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be embarrassed or not. Rafe felt like the only normal person in the tornado that was her current life.
“A woman showed up with a bunch of clothes for Cleo and me. We’re picking out dresses for the dinner.” She held out the skirt of the gown. “I thought maybe I’d ask Sabrina if this dress was all right. There are a couple of others that would work, but I like this one best. Still, I’m not sure I’m going in the right direction. I don’t have a lot of experience with formal state dinners.”
“She’s out with her husband and won’t be back for a couple of hours. I’d be happy to give you my opinion.”
Zara eyed him doubtfully. “Do you know anything about these kind of functions?”
“I’ve been to dozens. Show me what else you’re considering.”
This had been a stupid idea, Rafe told himself fifteen minutes later as he stood in the center of Zara’s bedroom and watched her model a strapless number in emerald green. Even though she disappeared into the bathroom to change, he could hear clothing rustle as she dressed, which was practically the same as seeing her change into each gown. The cut of the current one made it impossible for her to be wearing anything but panties underneath. Which made him think about joining her in the bathroom the next time she disappeared. Which made him think about very personal contact. Which made him hard.
He swore silently and shifted, then sank into a corner chair. With luck, the combination of shadows and her relative innocence would keep her from figuring out that he was aroused.
Zara turned back and forth in front of the full-length mirror. She put her hands on her waist and sighed.
“I don’t know if this looks weird,” she muttered. “Is my neck too long? Do I look like a skinny bird?”
“You look beautiful.”
She met his gaze in the mirror. “Why do I suddenly think that being nice to me is part of the job?”
“It’s not in the contract. Zara, you look great in that dress. So far I’ve liked all of them. What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. I want to look—” She shook her head. “I guess I want to look like someone else.”
“Why?”
“Because. I’m just ordinary. My skin is a decent color and it’s clear, so that’s nice. I guess I like my eyes, but my mouth is weird.”
He thought it was full and sensual. Her mouth made him think of kissing…intimate kissing. It made him wonder how her lips would feel on his body, his hands tangling in her hair as she—
Down boy, he told himself.
The bedroom door opened and Cleo breezed in. “I’ve found it,” she announced, grinning.
Zara looked at her sister and visibly wilted. Cleo’s dress was similar to Zara’s but in a deep cobalt blue that matched her eyes. The bustier bodice hugged lush curves that threatened to spill out with every breath. The straight skirt skimmed over Cleo’s full hips before falling to the floor. Zara looked cool and elegant, like an ice princess. Cleo was a walking, breathing invitation to have sex.