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“I told a contact I have what kind of thing I wanted. They sent a couple of dozen things over, and I picked out of that. I wasn’t trying—” He cuts himself off.

“What?” I prompt him.

“I don’t know. I thought you knew that I wasn’t trying to dress you up or control what you wear.”

“Maybe that’s not your motivation,” I confess. After he picked out the other things that he bought me, that’s what I’d thought. But now I’m not so sure. I just don’t understand what his motivation is. And I want to know.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d brought with you and I wanted you to feel comfortable.” He pauses and looks straight ahead. “And I wanted to buy them for you.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” he says.

Now I’m totally confused. “You’re not sure what you mean when you say you wanted to buy me clothes?”

“When I replaced your dress from the engagement party…I found I enjoyed it.”

“Shopping for women’s clothing?”

He chuckles, and instantly the tension in the air dissipates. “Shopping for you. I liked buying that dress and those shoes. And today, I enjoyed imagining you enjoying the surprise. I guess my imagination ran away with me, because you didn’t enjoy it at all.”

Regret gnaws at my stomach, and I feel guilty for being so…spiky.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. I’m so determined to be independent that maybe I’m inventing problems that aren’t really there.

“It’s fine. I got carried away.” He pulls in a breath. “I’m not sure anyone has enough power to control you.” He shifts in his seat, turning to me. “But not only do I not have the power, I don’t have any desire to.”

He holds my gaze, and I desperately scramble for something to say that will make me feel better about questioning him. “You’ve never given me any reason to think that you do.”

He offers me a small smile. “It’s easy for anyone to get caught up in their own head.”

“I really am sorry. I don’t want this to ruin our date.”

“It won’t,” he says. “Not if we don’t let it.”

“You have excellent taste.”

He throws me a glance. “Any you didn’t like? The nude maybe.” Is this a game? Is pleasing me the new goal he’s come up with?

“I didn’t try any of them on, but the nude was my least favorite. Correct.”

He smiles to himself like he just scored a victory. “Yeah, it was a bit of a wildcard, but I think you’d look great in it.”

I glance down at my lap, not wanting him to see how good it feels to get a compliment from him. I don’t want to be another person who falls for Ben’s charms, because everyone falls for Ben’s charms. “Thank you.”

“Will you keep them? I know you didn’t wear any of them tonight, but I’d like you to have them if you like them.” He looks at me, and maybe it’s just his normal charming way, but it feels so genuine that all I can feel is flattered. It doesn’t feel like manipulation or control or anything but generosity and…care.

“All of them?”

He shrugs. “I enjoyed picking them out.” His voice is a little less steady, less sure than usual. It’s as if he’s admitted something and he isn’t sure how I’ll react.

Small bursts of happiness bloom in my stomach. “Are you collecting loyalty points or something? Do you not want a whole bunch rescinded?” I’m joking because I don’t want this to be as big of a deal as it feels. I don’t want it to feel this real. This good.

He laughs. “Yup. That’s it. Gotta keep up my gold customer status at Saks. But seriously, I’d like you to have them—if you want to keep them.”

My stomach lifts, higher, higher, higher. This can’t be an act. Can it? Does he really not want to help me with Boston so much that he’s trying this hard to prove we can’t keep things professional?

I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “It’s very generous. I’d love to keep them.”