Anything for You. Sarah Mayberry
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figure-hugging. The dresses were triumphs of design, with minuscule straps and cinching belts and draping skirts that made her look willowy and elegant and mysterious. And the bras…Who would have thought that a bra could make such a difference? She refused to wear a padded bra, but the underwire balconette bra the saleswoman had shown her actually gave her cleavage. And the colors! She had a rainbow of silk and lace in her shopping bags. She’d oohed and ahhed so much she was sure the saleswoman must have thought she’d just escaped from behind the Iron Curtain. But the truth was, Delaney hadn’t spent this much time thinking about her appearance since she was a teenager and she’d made a single pathetic, misguided attempt to make Sam look at her as a woman. He’d laughed at her too-bright lipstick and her sister’s clothes and asked if she was going to a fancy dress, and she’d gone home and scrubbed at her face until it was red raw.
Since she’d long ago given up on Sam loving her, she’d relegated the art of allure and seduction to the dustbin. If a man was interested in plain old Delaney, she’d give him a whirl. But she had never gone out of her way to be sexy before. And this new wardrobe of hers was undeniably provocative.
Good, she told herself firmly. She was thirty years old. She only had a limited amount of time to meet a decent man, fall in love and start making babies.
She’d called Debbie from the hair salon to explain her long absence, and she stopped at the other woman’s desk to collect her messages on the way in to her office.
“Just three calls. Everyone still thinks you’re on holiday,” Debbie said absently, passing the chits over without looking up from her computer monitor.
“Thanks,” Delaney said, turning away.
“Get out of town!” Debbie suddenly squealed from behind her. “Delaney, what have you done?”
Delaney felt a stab of apprehension. She’d changed into the black jeans at the shop, matching them with a bright aqua tank top that made the most of her newly upthrust bosom. It was just like the time she’d dressed up for Sam—clearly she’d got it all wrong again. She closed her eyes for a second, then braced herself and turned back to face Debbie.
“Not good, huh?” she asked flatly.
“Are you kidding?! You look amazing. Astonishing. Stunning!” Debbie babbled. “Rudy, come and check Delaney out!”
Of course, that meant everyone else came as well, Amanda and Justin and Sukie trailing Rudy out into the reception area. They all circled around her oohing and ahhing.
“Your hair is so gorgeous. I want to eat it,” Rudy said worryingly.
“Those jeans, Delaney. Wow,” Justin said admiringly. Delaney noticed he was having a hard time taking his eyes off her ass.
Sukie was staring at Delaney’s chest, and she winked knowingly. “Mademoiselle FiFi,” she said, naming the brand of Delaney’s new bra. Sukie patted her own perky chest with satisfaction. “I love her work.”
It was all salve for her ego, and she felt her confidence blooming. She should have done this ages ago. She’d always taken the line that what people saw with her was what they got, but she realized now she’d been missing out on a lot of fun. She’d liked putting on lipstick and a touch of mascara and eye shadow with the expert guidance of the woman in the beauty section of the department store. And testing the perfumes had been a hoot. It was nice to feel desirable and attractive for a change.
Her gaze kept flicking toward Sam’s closed door, but Debbie answered her unspoken question before she had to ask it.
“Sam left not long after you,” the receptionist said.
Delaney stomped on the absurd sense of disappointment she felt at Sam not being there to see her transformation. This was not about Sam Kirk! She had to get that through her thick head.
She registered that everyone had sobered. She guessed they were thinking about the news she’d given Rudy before lunch.
“Don’t worry, your jobs are all safe,” she said quickly. “No one’s going anywhere.”
Except for her, of course. But she was sure they weren’t worried about her.
“But it won’t be the same,” Sukie said, echoing Rudy’s earlier remark. “We like working for you and Sam. It will be weird without you.”
“You’ll get used to it. And it’s not like I’m going straight away,” Delaney said, moved by her employees’ sincerity. Maybe they were a little worried about her.
“Are you—are you getting married or something?” Justin blurted out.
Delaney blinked. “No!”
Justin turned beet-red. “I just thought maybe you’d fallen in love with some jerk who didn’t want you to work and maybe we could go around and break his kneecaps or something.”
Delaney was touched all over again. “There’s no guy, trust me. I just want to do something different with my life,” she assured them.
Offering up one last smile, she crossed to her office.
The smile faded when she saw the note Sam had left on her desk.
Gone to talk to lawyers. Will have answer for you by p.m.
Wow. He’d moved quickly.
She sat with a thump. Soon, it seemed, she’d get what she wanted.
So why wasn’t she feeling relieved or happy?
Because you’re a besotted idiot, she told herself. Determined to change that, she grabbed her phone messages and focused on work.
She had to be strong now, or suffer the consequences later. There was no other way.
SAM WAS SO WORKED UP when he got home from the lawyer’s office that he had to play five rounds of Grand Theft Auto on PlayStation before his stress levels were manageable. When he’d finally maxed out his personal best score, he shut the unit off and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge. Heading out onto the balcony, he gazed across the crowded inner-city suburb of Richmond as he sucked down some much-needed liquid calm.
The evening breeze was cool, and the sky was a faded apricot color by the time he lifted himself out of his lounger and padded back into the house.
He’d been so angry with Delaney earlier that he could barely think, but now a semblance of rational thought had reasserted itself. For some reason, Delaney’s biological clock had suddenly exploded. Personally, he blamed Claire and her three offspring. Clearly the kids—evil geniuses that they were—had implanted some kind of hormonal device in Delaney’s brain while she was on holidays and Claire was making hay while the sun shined. Women always wanted other women to have children. They were constantly encouraging each other to procreate—a maternal conspiracy.
So. Delaney wanted kids of her own. It wasn’t the end of the world. But it didn’t mean she had to get out of the business. When he’d been discussing things with his lawyer this afternoon, a number of options had been floated. The one that appealed the most was keeping Delaney in the business as a silent partner, and bringing in an advertising sales manager to handle Delaney’s role. That way Delaney was still a part of the business—still connected to his life—but she could go off and find Mr. Perfect at the same time. Everyone was a winner.
It was such a great idea, Sam decided he should just go sell it to Delaney on the spot. Plus, he’d never stayed angry at her for this long before, and it felt weird. And, of course, there was dinner to be considered. He couldn’t cook, Delaney could…. Again everyone was a winner.
Grabbing the remaining two beers from his fridge, he snagged his house keys and made his way downstairs to Delaney’s apartment. Her door was red where his was blue, but the layouts inside were identical. They’d bought the empty warehouse shells at the same time, and shared the cost of an architect to fit out both spaces. There