"It is if you're only interested in being a friend," he reasoned, and then shrugged, and added, "But I suppose if your interests lie in a more sexual relationship, then it's probably less flattering. Fortunately, I never had that kind of interest in my friend, Jackie. She's more like a combination buddy and sister type for me."
"Jackie? Vincent's wife? The one who is flying in at the end of the week to help oversee your turn?" Harper asked. The big man had called Jackie last night to tell her he would be turning soon. Apparently, his friend had insisted on being there for it, so they'd had to set a date and time. The end of the week had been the decision.
"Yes." Tiny smiled faintly, and then they both glanced toward the stairs as they heard a door open and the chatter and clatter of the girls returning. Harper smiled, finding himself oddly eager to see them again. The day just seemed brighter with the girls around.
"You look gorgeous." Stephanie sighed where she lay on her bed, hugging her pillow.
Drina surveyed herself and thought that she looked like a prostitute on the loose.
"You do not," Stephanie and Mirabeau said as one, making her scowl and turn to the older woman.
"It's bad enough her reading me, but you too?" she asked with disgust.
Mirabeau grinned and shrugged. "You're an open book at the moment. It's hard not to."
Drina scowled and turned back to the mirror to sigh at her reflection, but her mind was on the conversation that had taken place in this room earlier in the afternoon. Much to her surprise, once Drina and Stephanie had explained things, Mirabeau had decided they were doing the right thing and had offered to help.
Actually, that had been something of a relief. Drina had found it increasingly difficult not to feel guilty about the head game they were playing with Harper as the day had worn on. But Mirabeau's assurance that it was probably the smartest move had made her feel a little better.
Now, however, she stared in the mirror at a woman she hardly recognized and wondered what the hell she was doing.
"This is the style nowadays," Stephanie assured her, sitting up on the bed, her expression earnest.
"She's right," Mirabeau agreed. "This is what they wear at the bars and clubs."
"So, everyone dresses like prostitutes now? What's it called? Hooker Chic?" Drina asked dryly, tugging at the low neckline of the black dress she'd somehow been convinced to wear after all.
Mirabeau chuckled at her acerbic words. It was Stephanie who said, "Stop fussing with the neckline. It isn't that low. You're just used to more conservative clothes."
Drina couldn't argue that point. She'd always been self-conscious at what she considered a too generous chest and so tended toward high necklines or even turtlenecks.
Sighing, she started to turn away from the mirror and immediately paused to peer down at her high heels. "I won't be able to dance in these."
"Then kick them off before you step on the dance floor," Mirabeau suggested. "I've seen women do that."
"Is that the helicopter?" Stephanie asked, suddenly leaping off the bed and hurrying to the window as they became aware of a distant whir. Pulling the curtains aside, she peered out at the sky, and then gave an excited little hop. "It is!"
"Time to go," Mirabeau said cheerfully, moving to open the bedroom door.
"I hope I don't have to walk far in these," Drina muttered, following her.
Releasing the curtains, Stephanie laughed and hurried after them, saying, "At least you won't have to worry about blisters. The nanos will heal them as quickly as they form."
Drina didn't bother to respond; she was too busy worrying about the curving staircase ahead and making it to the ground floor without taking a header. Seriously, she really shouldn't have bought these shoes or the dress. She should have bought something she would be comfortable in. But who knew Stephanie the great puppet master-cum-cupid, would maneuver Harper into taking her out tonight?
"Never underestimate the great Stephanie," Mirabeau said with amusement from in front of her.
"Stop that," Drina snapped. Good Lord, she definitely didn't like being read.
Mirabeau just laughed, but she managed to subdue her amusement as they reached the main floor and headed into the dining room.
"Oh good, the helicopter is here and-"
Drina tore her eyes away from watching her feet and glanced to Harper in question when his words died abruptly. He was staring at her, his mouth open, her coat in one hand and the other half-lifted toward the window as if he'd been gesturing outside to where the helicopter was. He looked rather stunned. She wasn't sure that was a good thing. He'd already seen her in the dress. It shouldn't elicit this effect, whatever this effect was. Horror was her guess.
"It's not horror," Stephanie hissed with exasperation behind her. "It's awe. While he saw the dress, he didn't see the dress, stockings, heels, jewelry, makeup, and hair. You've taken his breath away."
"Here's your coat," Tiny announced, taking the long faux leather coat from Harper's unresisting hand and crossing the room to hold it open for her.