"Go in and try on the purple shirt with those slacks," Emma said. She was practically bouncing in her seat. I gave her a strange look.
"Since when did you get interested in clothes?" I asked her. When we were living in the same house, I never worried about her stealing my clothes because she just wore the same jeans and T-shirt every day. She gave me a proud smile.
"Rachel's been training me. She's actually managed to show me the error of my ways and teach me something that resembles a fashion sense."
Rachel blushed. "You picked it up pretty quickly. I'll have you designing your own clothes any day now."
This time Emma flushed. "No way."
"I'm going to have to agree with her, Rachel. You should have seen the scarf she tried to knit. And the teddy bear she made in home economics. Well, I'm not sure you could even properly call it a bear."
Emma blushed almost purple. "It wasn't pretty. Nightmarish things happen when I try to sew."
"Hmm, I guess that's job security for me," Rachel said with a chuckle. I ducked into the changing room and threw on the purple shirt. It was just a silk button-up blouse, but I could imagine it doing well in the desert heat. I stepped out and did a little catwalk.
"I like it, but not with those pants," Rachel said with a laugh as I struck a model pose. Emma nodded.
"Maybe with a khaki skirt?" Emma's face became thoughtful.
"Or the black slacks," Rachel mused aloud. I grinned. It was fun letting them play dress-up with me. The clothes were all so beautiful that I was having fun just trying them on. Knowing that they would make sure I was dressed perfectly made it easy to try on things that I would never pick out myself.
We went through mountains of clothes, loading the salesperson who came to check on us with piles of rejects. She didn't mind, though, as the piles of things we were purchasing continued to grow. I had clothes for my trip, and even a new dress to wear out while with Owen that night.
When we finally walked out of the store, I didn't even want to look at the bill. I had seen price tags of over two grand on some of the dresses that Emma wanted to buy me, and the idea of seeing the final number higher than my yearly salary was just too intimidating. I knew if I saw that, I would never wear them for fear of ruining them.
Rachel grinned at me as we headed back out to the waiting car. I could see why Emma loved Rachel. The two of them, despite their age difference, got along famously.
"You lovely ladies have a wonderful time and spend all of Mr. Saunders' money?" Dean asked as we piled back into the SUV.
"Every dime. But Kaylee is going to look fab-u-lous!" Emma said, rocking her shoulders and giving her hand a single wave. Rachel snorted, and Dean just rolled his eyes as he pulled out into traffic.
I gave her a playful shove, but I couldn't wait to show Owen what we had bought.
Chapter 15
I stood, anxiously waiting for Owen in the lobby of the hotel where we were staying. Since he traveled on such a regular basis, he didn't bother keeping a house in the city and instead just rented the penthouse suite whenever he needed it. He had told me to meet him in the lobby, and he would pick me up when he finished a meeting with Jack to go over the details for his upcoming business trip. He had told me he was taking me to a fancy French restaurant and to get dolled up.
I fussed with the straps on my dress, as much making sure that it was in place as giving my hands something to do. Rachel and Emma had found me the perfect dress while we were out shopping, and then Rachel arranged for someone to come to the hotel to do my hair and makeup for my date. I chewed my lip, knowing that I was probably smearing my lipstick. Owen was only a few minutes late, but because of my dress, everyone who walked through the lobby stopped to look at me.
I looked like something off the red
carpet at the Oscars. I wore a long, flowing gown of soft white fabric that fluttered when I walked. It was cut in a Grecian style, with a form fitting top and a skirt that cascaded beautifully to pool on the floor. The dress was long enough that I was able to wear simple white ballet slippers, the skirt's hem long enough that my feet were completely hidden. My hair was slightly pulled back out of my face, but left loose down my back in soft waves. Emma lent me a simple diamond necklace and sparkling chandelier earrings to complete the look.
Owen finally walked in through the front door, moving the crowd aside like he owned the place. Our eyes met across the lobby, and he moved toward me, slicing through the room as though it were empty. His dark gray suit somehow made his eyes even bluer as he smiled at only me.
"You look better every time you put on a dress," he said as soon as he reached me. I kissed him gently, not wanting to leave a lipstick mark. He took my hand and held me out as though we had just finished dancing, his eyes going up and down, appraising the dress. He held my hand up over my head, coaxing me into a spin. The fabric floated gracefully before settling again. "I think this is my favorite dress I've seen you in."
"Thank you," I said, blushing to the roots of my hair. "You look pretty good yourself."
He grinned and did a model spin for me, finishing with a flamboyant hand on his hip. Even with his goofy antics, he looked hot. The dark gray of the suit stood out against the white of a dress shirt, and a tie the exact color of his eyes pulled everything together. The suit accented his broad shoulders and tapered waist, even showing off his perfect ass.
A camera flashed and I remembered that we weren't in our private hotel suite, but instead in the lobby of a very stylish and popular hotel. A woman in a wide brimmed hat and oversized sunglasses looked at us with wide eyes.
"Are you two celebrities? I hear celebrities stay here," the woman babbled, her eyes excited as she held up her camera to take another picture.
"No, we're just normal people." Owen said as he smiled politely at the tourist. She looked disappointed, and she turned to walk away. I giggled, the idea of being mistaken for a celebrity amusing me. No one at home would ever mistake me for a movie star. Owen carefully folded my hand into the crook of his arm, and escorted me out to a waiting car.
I had given up on trying to figure out what expensive model of car we were driving. Owen seemed to enjoy having a new fancy car at every opportunity. He had told me he didn't actually own any of them, he just rented whatever he felt like when he needed one. I had laughed at the idea that I actually owned more cars than a billionaire, since I actually did own a car, but then he pointed out that he owned a plane. I told him planes didn't count as cars, so I still had more.