Five Dates with the Billionaire - Alyssa J. Montgomery Page 0,15

Violet said smugly from where she stood looking from one of them to the other. Then in a voice so low only Connor would hear, she added in French, ‘Le papillon.’

Butterfly indeed.

‘Good evening, Mr Stewart.’

Shit. Even her voice was sexier—sultrier.

‘Now, Mia. I’ve already given Connor a serve for being stuffy and I’ll have no more of this formality,’ Violet insisted. ‘From now on, it’s Mia and Connor.’

Whichever make-up artist Violet had hired for this ‘transformation’ needed a gold medal. He or she had definitely highlighted Mia’s features. His attention snagged on her glasses. They needed to go. He guessed the stylists hadn’t had time to replace them with contact lenses, or at least a more flattering frame.

Mia scowled as she saw him looking her up and down. ‘None of this,’ she swept her hands down in front of her, ‘was my idea.’

‘It was a very good idea.’ He cursed inwardly at his hoarse words.

An enchanting blush rose from her chest, swept up her neck and stained her cheeks. Then she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking entirely uncertain, and reminding him of the employee he’d first encountered.

She was embarrassed because she suddenly looked like a goddess?

Connor felt like a fool as he recalled his declaration that he wasn’t in the slightest bit attracted to her and never would be. Gran’s team of professional stylists had wrought a miracle. The woman who stood before him was equal to the most desirable he’d ever escorted out for dinner. If they had still been going to Raphael’s the photographers would definitely have assumed Mia was his latest lover.

‘I’m taking full credit and don’t you shoot daggers at me, Mia. I’ve wanted to change your style for years.’ His grandmother’s delight made her eyes sparkle and she looked ten years younger despite the night she’d spent in hospital. ‘Now, go and enjoy your dinner, Cinderella. And, my darling Connor—do try to behave like Prince Charming.’

Chapter Six

‘Why?’ Connor asked, as he sat in the driver’s seat and looked at Mia.

‘Why what?’

‘Why do you hide yourself in those shapeless clothes when you’ve got such an amazing figure?’

‘I…’

There was such genuine surprise on her face, he knew she had no idea how stunning she now looked. ‘There’s no reason you couldn’t model. How tall are you? Six feet?’ Funny how the frumpy clothes she’d worn had always diminished her height.

It seemed to take a moment for her to process his words. ‘Six feet exactly and you’re being ridiculous.’

‘It’s the clothes you wear to work that are ridiculous.’

She thrust her chin forward. ‘They’re way more comfortable than this dress, and high heels are impractical at any time—let alone to wear to the office.’

But those heels brought her closer to his height—the perfect height for him to lower his head and claim her lips with his own.

Damn. He wasn’t supposed to have thoughts like that about a staff member!

‘Mia.’ He cleared his throat and tried to remember what he’d been going to say. ‘Put simply, tonight you look great.’ Great was too mediocre to describe her figure, but he hardly wanted to admit the full impact she had on him.

If she lost the glasses great could be stunning.

Out-of-this-world, mouth-wateringly beautiful.

On second thoughts, it might be safer for both of them if the glasses were kept firmly in place.

‘Excuse me?’ She sat straighter against the plush leather seat. ‘When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. I didn’t appreciate your assessment of me this afternoon and I don’t appreciate it now. Let me get one thing perfectly straight. This makeover of Violet’s…’ Every word screamed of her exasperation. ‘… This is not who I am and I’m distinctly uncomfortable being fawned over in an attempt to make me look glamorous. Next you’ll be telling me I’ve changed my appearance to try to impress you and that this was all part of some plan I’ve been hatching for years to get your attention,’ she huffed. ‘Believe me, this was all the stylists’ doing and if it hadn’t been for Violet’s insistence—’

‘It was one of my grandmother’s better ideas.’

She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his attention to her breasts. ‘If you’re pleased about these dates now, you’re very shallow.’ She gave him no time to defend himself as she ranted, ‘The stylists give my hair a blow dry, apply a bit of makeup and dress me in something that leaves little to the imagination and suddenly you’re not quite so averse to taking me out