Page 81 of The Saint

It was her boots I was jealous of, and I wished I was wearing my own. She’d insisted I couldn’t, not with the dress she’d forced me into for Rolly’s show.

It was hunter green silk, with a top that dipped down my chest and a slit in the skirt that rose up to the top of my thigh. It was the most beautiful, most expensive scrap of fabric I’d ever worn, and Shaw expected me to wear high heels.

She handed me the shoes, giving me a look that told me I had no choice but to put them on. It didn’t stop me from complaining as I dropped them on the floor and toed them until they were standing upright.

“I’m going to fall and break my neck.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms under her breasts in a way that pushed them up. “You’ll be fine. Besides, there are dozens of men down there already who would gladly race to your rescue.” She paused, raised an eyebrow before dragging her gaze over my body. “That is, if they can stop drooling long enough.”

“Psh. Whatever.” Heat flooded my cheeks at the compliment, and I ducked my head, slipping my bare feet into the open-toed black shoes. They weren’t horribly high, and it gave me hope that I might not trip or twist my ankle.

Shaw grabbed her backpack off the floor and dropped it onto the counter, digging out a small makeup bag before turning to me.

I dreaded this more than I dreaded the shoes.

She gave me orders as she applied my makeup, telling me to close my eyes, pucker my lips, and every swipe of the brush across some part of my face brought to mind the clowns Rolly had been so scared of when we were little kids. I was going to terrify him in this get-up. He was going to go running from the building the minute he saw me.

When Shaw was done with the makeup, she zipped up the bag and tossed it in her backpack.

“Ok, that’s it. Take a look.”

Opening one eye, I peeked up at her. “You sure?”

“Your reflection won’t bite.”

I rose from the chair she’d snagged from one of the closets down the hall, my stomach tight with dread. I blinked. Blinked again. Furrowed my brow and was surprised when my reflection followed suit. Because the person in the mirror didn’t look like the horror show I expected.

“I look… pretty.”

“Fucking gorgeous,” Shaw said, light laughter in her voice. “I believe that’s the term you should use.”

She laughed again as I glared at her reflection over my shoulder, but it wasn’t long before I was smiling too.

This woman, this hacker who knew computers better than I knew an AK-47, had turned me into someone I could hardly recognize.

I looked like a girl.

Like a woman.

Like someone who belonged in a beautiful dress instead of t-shirts and cargo pants.

Like someone Rolly deserved.

“Hey.” Shaw rushed forward, grabbing a tissue out of the basket beside the sink. “No crying. I don’t want your mascara to run.”

“I’m not crying. I have something in my eye.” I grabbed the tissue from her hand, turning away from her before she gripped my shoulder and swung me back toward her.

“You’re a horrible liar,” she whispered as she took the tissue and dabbed at the corner of my eye. “Rolly’s a lucky guy, David.”

Shaw stepped back, looking me over once again, and I’d never felt more on display.

“I better get going.” She shrugged on her leather jacket, then slung her backpack over her shoulder.

“You got a hot date?” I joked, smirking at her.

She looked at me like she knew something I didn’t. “Not exactly. I wanted to check out Rolly’s work for myself—the cameras here could use some updating—and I’m dog-sitting this evening.”

“Dog-sitting?”