Her cheeks flush. “I thought this would be easier.”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” I do what my clients prefer, with only two exceptions: letting them come to my home, and wearing ugly clothes.
I scan her quickly to see what I’m working with. She’s medium height. Her features are even and fine, pretty, but not stunning like the most celeb clients I have. On the other hand, her small, delicate build is excellent, with a narrow waist and hips flaring out to create a surprisingly sexy silhouette.
But her outfit is so…businesslike and boring. A plain ivory sleeveless top and knee-length black pencil skirt. Black Mary Janes. No accessories except for a pair of solitaire earrings. Given the cheapness of her clothes—I’d bet my favorite Jimmy Choo sandals that she got them off clearance racks at an outlet mall—they’re probably cubic zirconia or something similar.
Erin fidgets, shifting her weight. “Do I look okay?” she asks finally, her voice small.
Oh, honey… I smile sympathetically at her sweet uncertainty. Erin is the type of client who requires a delicate touch. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look. The only question is, are you happy with it?”
“Uh…” She looks down at herself, then at my dress, then back at herself. “I guess?”
So she doesn’t know for sure. No wonder David gave me such detailed instructions. “Let’s walk to my car. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
She gulps audibly. “Okay.”
I drop the visitor’s pass off in the bin next to the security desk, where the guard gives me a perfunctory nod, then lead Erin out into the garage. She lowers her voice like she’s confessing a grave crime.
“I’ve never hired somebody like you, ever. I didn’t even know people like you existed.”
“It’s okay.” I smile. “So. What do you wear when you go out with friends?”
“I don’t really go out much.”
“But you have friends in town.” It’s unimaginable that a young woman like Erin doesn’t have friends she can hang out with.
“I moved here not too long ago,” she explains, but her tone says she’s a little bit embarrassed about her lack of friends.
“Okay.” This is like pulling teeth. “What did you wear when you went out with friends before you moved?”
“Um…I don’t know. Kind of like what I’m wearing now?”
Oh dear. Clean-cut. No personality. Bland business casual. That is so not what people need to see, especially when David said “home and hearth.” Besides, he and I agreed on sleek sophistication as well.
When I don’t say anything, she adds, “I just want to look normal and neat. Stable.”
Huh. That’s an unusual combination of adjectives for a pretty young woman to apply to herself, but whatever. Maybe Erin’s just too shy to experiment.
“I don’t want to shock Mrs. Darling,” she adds.
“Mrs. Darling…?”
“David’s mother. She’s coming soon. And David and I want to look nice for her. I mean, we both want me to look nice. I’m even going to bring cookies, since I heard she likes them,” she says, then stops abruptly, flushing.
“That’s fine,” I say. “Uh…baked goods are fantastic icebreakers.” Now she’s making me feel awkward.
Regardless of what Erin wants—normal, neat and stable with a plate of cookies—I have my orders. David’s the one who’s ultimately paying me, so it’s my job to figure out a tastefully expensive look that can enhance her good-girl appearance and make men think of marriage and babies, although I wonder why he needs that in an assistant. If he needs a date to a function and doesn’t have a woman he can ask, he can just dress her pretty. It’s not difficult, and it’s easier and cheaper that hiring me.
On the other hand, it’s not my job to be curious…and Erin and I aren’t close enough to gossip and chat. So I’m going to take her to my favorite boutiques. Time to play Fairy Godmother and turn this drab girl into a princess that every prince wants to marry.
Chapter Forty-Four
Jo
Three hours later, Erin and I are back in the Sweet Darlings lobby. She was reluctant to pick out anything, especially when she realized nothing had price tags. But after a couple of complimentary mimosas—which I had to cajole her into drinking—she was much more agreeable.
“Thank you,” she says. “By the way, do I look like I’ve been drinking?” She puts her hands over her cheeks. “My face feels a little warm.”