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“I do. That’s why they’re still in the closet,” she said with a grin.
“Oh.”
Sassy was eyeing her and then the clothes on the bed. “How about this?” She picked up a patterned blue skirt, very long and silky, with a pale blue silk blouse that had puffy sleeves and a rounded neckline. It looked demure, but it was a witchy ensemble. “Try that on. Let’s see how it looks.”
Jillian’s hands fumbled. She’d never put on something so expensive. It fit her like a glove, and it felt good to move in, as so many clothes didn’t. She remarked on that.
“Most clothes on the rack aren’t constructed to fit exactly, and the less expensive they are, the worse the fit,” Sassy said. “I know, because I bought clothes off the sales rack all my life before I married. I was shocked to find that expensive clothes actually fit. And when they do, they make you look better. You can see for yourself.”
Jillian did. Glancing in the mirror, she was shocked to find that the skirt put less emphasis on her full hips and more on her narrow waist. The blouse, on the other hand, made her small breasts look just a little bigger.
“Now, with your hair actually down and curled, instead of screwed up into that bun,” Sassy continued, pulling out hairpins as she went and reaching for a brush, “you’ll look so different that Ted may not even recognize you. What a difference!”
It was. With her long blond hair curling around her shoulders, she looked really pretty.
“Is that me?” she asked, shocked.
Sassy grinned. “Sure is.”
She turned to her friend, fighting tears. “It’s so nice of you,” she began.
Sassy hugged her. “Friends look out for each other.”
They hadn’t been close friends, because Sassy’s home problems had made that impossible before her marriage. But they were growing closer now. It was nice to have someone she could talk to.
She drew away and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”
“You’re a nice person, Jilly,” Sassy told her gently. “You’d do the same for me in a heartbeat, if our situations were reversed, and you know it.”
“I certainly would.”
“I’ve got some curlers. Let’s put up your hair in them and then we can snap beans.”
“You’ve got beans in the middle of winter?” Jillian exclaimed.
“From the organic food market,” she laughed. “I have them shipped in. You can take some home and plant up. Ted might like beans and ham hocks.”
“Even if he didn’t, I sure would. I’ll bet it’s your own pork.”
“It is. We like organic all the way. Put your jeans back on and we’ll wash your hair and set it. It’s thin enough that it can dry while we work.”
And it did. They took the curlers out a couple of hours later. Jillian was surprised at the difference a few curls made in her appearance.
“Makeup next,” Sassy told her, grinning. “This is fun!”
“Fun and educational,” Jillian said, still reeling. “How did you learn all this?”
“From my mother-in-law. She goes to spas and beauty parlors all the time. She’s still gorgeous, even though she’s gaining in years. Sit down.”
Sassy put her in front of a fluorescent-lit mirror and proceeded to experiment with different shades of lipstick and eye shadow. Jillian felt as spoiled as if she’d been to an exclusive department store, and she said so.
“I’m still learning,” Sassy assured her. “But it’s fun, isn’t it?”
“The most fun I’ve had in a long time, and thank you. Theodore is going to be shocked when he shows up Saturday!” she predicted.
Shocked was an understatement. Jillian in a blue ensemble, with her long hair soft and curling around her shoulders, with demure makeup, was a revelation to a man who’d only ever seen her without makeup in ragged jeans and sweatshirts or, worse, baggy T-shirts. Dressed up, in clothes that fit her perfectly, she was actually pretty.
“You can close your mouth, Theodore,” she teased, delighted at his response.
He did. He shook his head. “You look nice,” he said. It was an understatement, compared to what he was thinking. Jillian was a knockout. He frowned as he thought how her new look might go down in town. There were a couple of younger men, nice-looking ones with wealthy backgrounds, who might also find the new Jillian a hot item. He might have competition for her that he couldn’t handle.
Jillian, watching his expressions change, was suddenly insecure. He was scowling as if he didn’t actually approve of how she looked.
“It isn’t too revealing, is it?” she worried.
He cleared his throat. “Jake, you’re covered from stem to stern, except for the hollow of your throat, and your arms,” he said. “What do you think is revealing?”
“You looked … well, you looked …”
“I looked like a man who’s considering the fight ahead.”
“Excuse me?”
He moved a step closer and looked down at her with pure appreciation. “You really don’t know what a knockout you are, all dressed up?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Me?”
His big hands framed her face and brought it up to his dancing black eyes. “You.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “You know, I really wonder if you taste as good as you look. This is as good a time as any to find out.”
He bent his head as he spoke and, for the first time in their relationship, he kissed her, right on the mouth. Hard.
Whatever he expected her reaction to be, the reality of it came as a shock
Three
Jillian jerked back away from him as if he’d offended her, flushing to the roots of her hair. She stared at him with helpless misery, waiting for the explosion. The auditor had cursed a blue streak, called her names, swore that he’d tell every boy he knew that she was a hopeless little icicle.
But Theodore didn’t do that. In fact, he smiled, very gently.
She bit her lower lip. She wanted to tell him. She couldn’t. The pain was almost physical.
He took her flushed face in his big hands and bent and kissed her gently on the forehead, then on her eyelids, closing them.
“We all have our own secret pain, Jake,” he whispered. “One day you’ll want to tell me, and I’ll listen.” He lifted his head. “For the time being, we’ll be best buddies, except that you’re wearing a skirt,” he added, tongue-in-cheek.
“I have to confess that very few of my buddies have used a women’s restroom.”
It took her a minute, then she burst out laughing.
“That’s better,” he said, and grinned. He cocked his head and gave her a very male appraisal. “You really do look nice.” He pursed his lips as he contemplated the ensemble and its probable cost.
“They’re loaners,” she blurted out.
His black eyes sparkled with unholy glee. “Loaners?”
She nodded. “Sassy Callister.”
“I see.”
She grinned. “She said that she had a whole closet of stuff she never wore. I didn’t want to, but she sort of bulldozed me into it. She’s a lot like her new husband.”
“He wears petticoats?” he asked outrageously.
She glared at him. “Women don’t wear petticoats or hoop skirts these days, Theodore.”
“Sorry. Wrong era.”
She grinned. “Talk about living in the dark ages!”
He shrugged. “I was raised by my grandmother and my uncle. They weren’t forthcoming about women’s intimate apparel.”
“Well, I guess not!”
“Your uncle John was the same sort of throwback,” he remarked.
“So we both come by it honestly, I suppose.” She noted his immaculate dark suit and the spotless white shirt and blue patterned tie he was wearing with it. “You look nice, too.”
“I bought the suit to wear to John Callister’s wedding,” he replied. “I don’t often have the occasion to dress up.”
“Me, neither,” she sighed.
“I guess we could go a few places together,” he commented. “I like to hunt and fish.”
“I do not like guns,” she said flatly.
“Well, in my profession, they’re sort of a necessity, Jake,” he commented.
“I suppose so. Sorry.”
“No problem. You used to like fishing.”
“It’s been a while since I dipped a poor, helpless worm into the water.”
He chuckled. “Everything in life has a purpose. A worm’s is to help people catch delicious fish.”
“The worm might not share your point of view.”
“I’ll ask, the next time I see one.”
She laughed, and her whole face changed. She felt better than she had in ages. Theodore didn’t think she was a lost cause. He wasn’t even angry that she’d gone cold at his kiss. Maybe, she thought, just maybe, there was still hope for her.
His black eyes were kind. “I’m glad you aren’t wearing high heels,” he commented.
“Why?”
He glanced down at his big feet in soft black leather boots. “Well, these aren’t as tough as the boots I wear on the job. I’d hate to have holes in them from spiked heels, when you step on my feet on the dance floor.”
“I will not step on your feet,” she said with mock indignation. She grinned. “I might trip over them and land in a flowerpot, of course.”
“I heard about that,” he replied, chuckling. “Poor old Harris Twain. I’ll bet he’ll never stick his legs out into the walkway of a restaurant again. He said you were pretty liberally covered with potting soil. You went in headfirst, I believe …?”
She sighed. “Most people have talents. Mine is lack of coordination. I can trip over my own feet, much less someone else’s.”
He wondered about that clumsiness. She was very capable, in her own way, but she often fell. He frowned.
“Now, see, you’re thinking that I’m a klutz, and you’re absolutely right.”
“I was wondering more about your balance,” he said. “Do you have inner ear problems?”
She blinked. “What do my ears have to do with that?”
“A lot. If you have an inner ear disturbance, it can affect balance.”
“And where did you get your medical training?” she queried.
“I spend some time in emergency rooms, with victims and perps alike. I learn a lot about medical problems that way.”
“I forgot.”
He shrugged. “It goes with the job.”
“I don’t have earaches,” she said, and averted her eyes. “Shouldn’t we get going?”
She was hiding something. A lot, maybe. He let it go. “I guess we should.”
“A Latin dance club in Billings.” She grinned. “How exotic! ”
“The owner’s even more exotic. You’ll like him.” He leaned closer. “He was a gun runner in his wild youth.”
“Wow!”
“I thought you’d be impressed. So was I.”
“You have an interesting collection of strange people in your life,” she commented on the way to his truck.
“Goes with the—”
“Job. I guess.” She grinned when she saw the truck. “Washed and waxed it, huh?” she teased.
