head toward the foot of the bed, where a maid’s uniform was neatly folded.
Her gaze landed on the uniform, and her lips curled in outrage. “I’m a maid? And I have to wear that thing? I look horrible in that shade of blue! Oh. My. God.” She pulled free of his grasp, walked to the bed, picked up the uniform and unfurled the dress with a sharp flap of her hands.
For three full heartbeats, she stared at the garment with its ruffle around the neck. Then she did something he would never, ever have expected from his new, very controlled, studious bride.
She hurled it down to the floor and stomped on it. When she whirled on him, her eyes blazed. “You wear it! I’ll head the security.”
Chapter Four
Lauralee emerged from the bathroom in the horrid blue dress with the itchy, stiff collar and stopped in her tracks.
Boone faced away from her, his starched white shirt stretched taut over his muscled spine and tucked into the waist of black trousers. A black belt emphasized his waist, and a holster crossed his back.
She cleared her throat, and he pivoted.
Her breath hitched as she caught sight of his half-buttoned shirt. Between the gaping fabric, she glimpsed his tanned chest with the small sprouts of dark hair she’d seen back in the office, when he had to rework the buttons of his shirt.
Was that only days before? It felt like a lifetime. Clearly, she’d spent too long as his wife already.
“I have a problem,” she said.
He paused midbutton.
She turned to present her spine to him and then glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t zip this by myself.”
He didn’t move to do it. Her heart flipped after ten beats.
Just when she was about to send some sass his way, his body heat scorched over her bare skin. His warm fingers at the crest of her buttocks sent her into a panic that he was seeing far too much of her.
The long zipper vibrated tooth by tooth to her nape, prickling the hair there and everything in between.
She sucked in a breath. “Thank you.”
“Guess you can’t get out of it alone either.”
She captured his gaze. “Thanks for reminding me. Also, why do you get to look all…” She waved up and down his hunky body at his crisp shirt and pants. The holster held a weapon tucked close to his side, and him being hatless lent him an even more dangerous air than that white Stetson.
He cocked a brow in question.
She regained her wits, snapping her mouth shut after realizing it was hanging open. “All dressed up. And I have to be a dowdy, frumpy housemaid?”
He slowly dipped his gaze over her tight collar with the itchy ruffle, down her bodice to the flare of her hips. As he lowered his gaze to her bare legs, lingering around her ankles, she snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Stop looking at me that way.”
His hard lips quirked at one corner. “I’m just practicin’, honey.”
She gave him a jaundiced look.
“Ready for this? We’re going to lie low, fit in, learn our jobs, then we’re going to figure out everything we can about this guy. Your role is actually very important, Lauralee. You will have some freedom in the house and get to hear any gossip among the staff. With luck, you could get close to his wife.”
She straightened. “I considered that. It’s the only thing that got me into this dress.”
He searched her face. “It isn’t too bad, though it does make you look paler.”
She groaned.
Waving a hand around his head, his stare latched on to her hair. “I’ve never seen your hair…up like that.”
“Because I’m terrible at girly things like hair and makeup.”
“You don’t need makeup—you’re beautiful without it.”
Her mouth dropped open again. Why did he keep doing that to her? She was acting as if she’d never received a compliment in her entire life. Okay, so they were few and far between and plenty came from her own mother, but that didn’t mean no man had ever taken an interest in her.
Just not any as good-looking as Boone Wynton. Or her husband Brodie Marks.
She focused on his still-unbuttoned shirt. “Uh…thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He took up where he left off, as if her notice spurred him to remember those buttons left undone. When he reached the top, he left it open.
She stuck her finger under her own ruffled nightmare. “It’s hot and itchy and uncomfortable. If I don’t suffocate in the uniform, I might be