"What'd you want me to do? Was I supposed to say, 'Hey, Matt. Hey, Suze. You know what? The whole thing's a gag.''
Lucy shrugged her shoulders. "Something like that."
"And what we were doing when they walked in?" Joe snorted with derision. "That was some gag, all right."
"If you're trying to make me think you're gallant, Romano, you're wasting your time."
Joe ran his fingers through his hair. "I just don't see a reason to involve anyone else in this."
"That's because you know it's wrong. It's an ugly deception."
"Oh, I love it! The lady says this is an ugly deception, as if she had no part in setting it up."
"I admit, I went along with the plan, but-"
Joe stalked forward, lowered his head until they were nose to nose. "But nothing. You're in this, right up to your eyeballs."
"Well, I want out. I hate lying!"
"We're not lying. We're simply assuming a different interpretation of the facts. Thinking outside the box, as it were."
"A charming distinction, if ever I heard one."
"I'm glad you think so, since you're being well-paid to help with the interpretation."
Lucy glared at him. Then she swung away and threw her arms wide. "I wish I'd told you what I thought of you and your idea, right from the start!"
"Well, you didn't." Joe glanced at his watch. "And we'd better get a move on. Upstairs, out of that silly outfit, into some real clothes. One of those Plain Jane skirts. A shapeless blouse. Another pair of sensible shoes."
"There's nothing wrong with my shoes," she said furiously. "Or with my skirts."
"And comb your hair," he said calmly. "Try leaving it loose."
"Dammit, Romano--"
"Meanwhile, I'll shower and change. We can grab breakfast on the way."
Lucy stamped her foot. "Stop giving orders. On the way to where?"
Joe hesitated. He thought about telling her the truth, that he was taking her downtown to buy something for her to wear tonight, that he was going to stop at a trendy hair salon where he'd once stopped in to pick up a redheaded lawyer he'd been dating, and throw himself-and Lucy-on the mercy of the stylists.
Then he thought about her probable reaction.
"It's a surprise." He saw the surge of color in her face, knew her temper was at the boiling point. "Go on up," he said gently as he clasped her shoulders. "Get out of that silly outfit. Do it, right now, or I'll do it for you."
Lucy's mouth opened, then shut. Her eyes narrowed. He waited for her to tell him what a rat he was, what a no-account, no-good...
"I'll get even with you for this," she said between her teeth. Then she slapped his hands from her shoulders, turned on her heel, and ran up the stairs.
She came down fifteen minutes later, looking, he decided, like a nun who'd left the cloister.
"Charming," he said politely, taking in her pinned-back hair, her starched, white cotton blouse, her gray skirt and flat heeled black shoes.
"I'm so glad you approve," she said, flashing him a smile a barracuda would have envied.
Joe sighed, took her arm, and hustled her through the house, into the garage and into his car.
"Where are we going?"
"We're going clothes shopping," he said as the garage door slid open. "And before you tell me you don't need clothes, just get it through your head that there's no way in hell I'm taking you to dinner with my brother and his wife with you looking like the last girl to be asked to dance at the senior prom."
Lucy flushed. "I suppose you think you look perfect."
"I will, tonight."
He looked perfect now, she thought, glancing over at him. His dark hair was wet from the shower, curling slightly around his ears. He'd put on a gray T-shirt that outlined every muscle of his torso, and faded jeans that looked soft as silk with age.
Heat rolled through her. She thought of how that gorgeous body of his had felt against hers. Of how hot his mouth had been. Of what might have-would have-happened, if his brother and sister-in-law hadn't interrupted them...
"This," Joe said, flooring the gas pedal, "is the last Sunday of the month."
"What a brilliant deduction."
"The club goes in for formal bashes on the last Sunday of every month. That means tuxes for the men, gowns for-"
Lucy sniffed. "I know what it means."
"And?"
"And what?"
"And, do you have a formal gown in your luggage?"
"I'm not going to dignify that with a response."
"Meaning, you don't."
"Meaning, I don't need one."
"No. No, you don't." Joe shot her a tight-jawed look. "You've always got your G-string, for formal occasions."
"I'm not going to dignify that with a response, either."
"You don't have to." The tires squealed as he shot around a corner. "Which is why we're going shopping. You need a dress, shoes, the works."
"If you think I'm going to spend money I don't have, just to soothe your ego--"
"You're right. It's my ego, and my money. Consider what we buy a perk of the job."
"I don't want any perks!"
The tires squealed again as he pulled to the curb. "See, that's the thing about perks, Blondie. You don't have to ask for them. They're part of the package."
"I quit!"
"Too late. We made a deal, remember?"
"It didn't include you buying me clothing."
"How about me buying you breakfast." Joe slammed his door, came around to her side of the car and reached for the handle. "Is that permissible, or am I going to have to get a court order for a feeding tube?"
Lucy glared up at him. Oh, he was so sure of himself. So smug. So damned opinionated...
So spectacularly handsome, she thought, and her heart did that same stupid thing it had done before, turned over behind her ribs so that she felt dizzy.
"Well?" he said.
"I hate you," she muttered.
Joe rolled his eyes, Lucy stepped from the car. Round two had begun.
At six-thirty, Joe had all but worn a path across the carpet that led from the living room to the library.
He paused at the foot of the steps each time, and looked up. Lucy's door remained firmly shut. What in hell was taking her so long? He'd never understood why women took so long to dress. In this case, he understood it even less.
They'd bought only one dress, one pair of shoes, one tiny purse, so she couldn't be doing the female thing, standing in front of her closet in her underwear, trying to decide what outfit to put on.
Joe's footsteps faltered. Dammit, he didn't want to think about Lucy in her underwear.
"Madam will need the proper undergarments," the smiling salesclerk at Neiman-Marcus had said after Joe had finally given the nod to a gown.
"Madam will choose those herself," Lucy had replied, with a look so icy that neither Joe nor the clerk had been foolish enough to argue.
The clerk had brought her a selection of lacy things. Lucy's cold stare had dared Joe to try and see them. He'd wanted to, just to make sure she bought the right things, of course.
Joe stopped pacing, shut his eyes and smiled.
At least he'd seen her in all the dresses. Damned if she hadn't looked magnificent in each and every one. Angry as a cat who'd had its fur stroked the wrong way, sure, but magnificent. That lovely face. The lush body and the long, endless legs, all set off to perfection in gown after gown after gown. All that golden hair, streaming down her back...
The stylist had let it down, oohed, aahed, taken up his scissors and done little more than take off snippets here and there.
Which dress had they ended up buying? He couldn't remember. He'd wanted to buy them all, after a while. The black satin. The blue velvet. The red silk.
It wouldn't matter. Lucy would look perfect in anyone of them. He wouldn't have to worry about having to make excuses for what was supposed to be his choice in women to Matt, or to any other guys they might see tonigh
t.
"Joe?"
Lucy's voice was almost a whisper. He turned, looked up the stairs ... and knew that the opinions of his brother, or anybody else, had nothing to do with what he felt.
The gown-the red silk, after all-was beautiful. The low, square neckline showed off Lucy's elegant bones; the fluid fabric clung to her high, rounded breasts and slender waist like a sweet memory and the short skirt was the perfect foil for her long legs.
But sackcloth would have done as well. The beauty, the perfection that made his heart lurch, wasn't in the dress.
It was in Lucy.
Her lovely face. Her pale gold hair. The wide eyes and parted, trembling lips...
Joe felt his heart expand so fully that he had to struggle to draw a breath.
Lucy laid her hand on the banister. "Am I-is the dress all right?"
He thought of all the things he might say, all he longed to say. In the end, he only smiled and held out his hand. She looked at it, hesitated, then, slowly, she started down the steps to him.
"You're lovely," he said softly when she reached him.