marched up the stairs to finish getting ready. She was accepting the inevitable.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
How many outfit changes did a woman need to go through before she was truly satisfied with her look? For Chloe, apparently it was ten. And still, she wasn’t fully satisfied with her choice.
She wanted to look nice, of course—she took pride in dressing well. But for this date she wanted to knock his socks off. It was strange for her to feel that way. She was trying to tell herself this wasn’t going anywhere, but then she was worried about pleasing him. She wasn’t even making sense to herself anymore.
She put on her favorite cream-colored Oscar de la Renta sleeveless wool crepe dress with a pencil skirt that had a slit high on her thigh. She had tried talking herself out of wearing the too-expensive dress, but it always made her feel like a million bucks. She added her metallic pointed pumps by Valentino Garavani, and her walk instantly changed.
It was the type of outfit that made you feel like an all-star when you walked in a room. She’d bought the outfit when she’d made her first real profit. If a person didn’t reward themselves for doing well, what was the point in trying so hard?
With her sexy undergarments beneath and her hair and makeup complete, she was more than ready for her first official date with Brandon Anderson. Of course the man had more money than she’d ever dream of having, but that didn’t make him better than her, and it didn’t intimidate her at all.
Well, it might intimidate her slightly, according to her clothing choices, but money hadn’t ever been that important to her. It was a necessary evil to survive in the world, but she took far more pride in earning her money than having it handed to her. Some of the girls she’d gone to school with had wanted to be nothing more than trophy wives. That was an utter nightmare to her.
She wanted to walk into her place of business and know it was hers, know it was successful because she’d made it that way. She was proud of all she’d done, and she planned on doing a heck of a lot more in her lifetime—man or no man.
She glanced in the mirror one last time. Her heart jumped when her doorbell rang. She took a calming breath before she moved purposely away from her full-length mirror. She’d checked herself two dozen times, and nothing was changing. She might have been slightly overdressed, but he was a guy and wouldn’t have a clue about fashion or the thought she’d put into it. She could just say she’d thrown something together, not that she’d agonized over the decision for hours on end.
She had to blame her besties for her mania. If they hadn’t gotten her all flustered as she’d been trying to get ready, she was sure she wouldn’t be such a mess. Yes, it was much better to blame the two of them. That thought made her smile. They’d do the same to her if they had the opportunity.
She moved at a steady pace from her room and down the stairs toward her front door. She never had been one of those women to make a man wait on her. She could see the appeal of it, but it was tasteless to make someone wait just because you could. Sometimes life happened and there was no choice, but to do it on purpose was just downright rude.
She made it to her door and gave herself a couple of seconds to inhale some soothing deep breaths. She was truly acting like a girl on prom night. Brandon wasn’t a blind date, and they weren’t teenagers. They were both mature adults who’d interacted many times before. She needed to stop thinking of this night as having any significance at all. It was just another night in a long line of weeks and months and years to come.
Her utter fascination with Brandon Anderson was a mystery she’d given up on solving, but she could admit to herself she liked how he made her feel. She liked that he made her laugh and challenged her. She liked that he gave her butterflies in the pit of her stomach, she liked working with him, and she really liked being in his arms.
She was finally ready to open the door, so she smiled and undid her locks, then opened up, getting ready to get hit in the