Flirting With Intent. Kelly Hunter
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you’re looking for, right?’ he asked a touch desperately as he glanced up at the waterfall of retail stores rimming the central atrium.
‘No,’ said Ruby cheerfully. ‘I have no idea. That’s why you’re here. You can start by telling me whether your sisters are girly girls when it comes to gifts or more practically inclined? Should I be thinking handbags for Poppy or season tickets to the Royal Ballet? She lives in London, right?’
‘Right. And definitely the tickets. Buying tickets online would mean we wouldn’t necessarily have to go into any of these shops. Problem solved.’
‘Or we could put the tickets in the handbag,’ murmured Ruby. ‘Or in the pocket of a black velvet evening coat. Do you have her measurements?’ Damon shook his head. Ruby sighed her impatience. ‘C’mon, Damon. Work with me here. Surely a rake of your stature can hazard a decent guess as to dress size? We’re not going to swing tailor-made at this time of year anyway. It’ll have to be ready-to-wear.’
‘In that case, Poppy’s five seven and too slender for her own good. Size ten, Australian.’
‘Thank you. I knew you could do it. What about Lena?’
‘Lena is a little taller and has spent six of the last eight months in a wheelchair. She’s even skinnier than Poppy these days. I hope it doesn’t last.’
‘So … dress size eight? Or ten?’
‘Yes,’ he said and earned himself an eye roll. ‘Ten would be better. Give her something to aspire to.’
‘And what size am I?’
Nice of Ruby to give him permission to study her delectable form. ‘Arms above your head and turn around,’ he directed smoothly.
‘Funny man.’ Ruby’s honey-coloured eyes narrowed and her hands went to her hips. Damon’s gaze followed. Her waist was tiny but she did have hips. Not to mention a fine rear and full breasts. Her chestnut curls stayed clear of her face, courtesy of the ridiculous headband, and the black leather tote completed her general air of plenty.
Plenty of curves, plenty of attitude and plenty of challenge to be going on with. Damon smiled his appreciation.
‘Somewhere between a size ten and a twelve, Ruby, though I’m guessing most of your clothes are custom fit. You’ve got that look. How am I doing so far?’
‘You’re a true expert on the female form. Lucky me. Now tell me what kind of clothes your sisters prefer to wear.’
Damon looked warily upwards once again, towards the retail floors filled with shops. They seemed like very spacious shops. Probably not that many per floor. ‘Poppy likes layers. Lena hates dresses. Neither of them are into colour.’
‘That’s just sad,’ she murmured. ‘Do they like jewellery?’
‘They have jewellery.’
‘I’m working on the general assumption that they have everything,’ said Ruby dryly. ‘In here, Damon,’ she said, gesturing to the nearest shopfront. ‘No one does neutrals better than the French.’
Bracing himself, Damon followed her inside.
It wasn’t Ruby’s headband that got them exemplary service, decided Damon a few minutes later. It was her attitude. The way she knew not to browse the racks herself but describe what she wanted and then let the assistants fetch the stuff. The way she efficiently sorted the offerings into discards and items she wanted to consider. There was seating, and Damon availed himself of it. Refreshments, which he declined.
Three saleswomen and one curvaceous general. Two presents to purchase. Five minutes, tops.
He was so wrong.
What kind of maniac put a beige trench coat over what looked like a corseted black baby-doll nightie? Or covered a perfectly serviceable strapless black mini dress with a sheer purple overgown that rippled to the floor?
The purple gauzy thing and the mini beneath it were discarded on account of Lena not being one for colour or dresses. In the end, Ruby settled on a pewter-coloured miniskirt for Lena. It had ruffles and looked softly feminine and would not emphasise his sister’s frailty. Damon approved. The ivory-coloured waist-length jacket Ruby chose to go with it had some sort of sculpted band around the hem but it went with the skirt better than expected. The beige trench coat and the baby-doll nightwear combo that she’d set aside was apparently for Poppy.
‘Do I get a say?’ he murmured and four perfectly styled women turned to regard him with varying degrees of pity. ‘You said handbags,’ he said to Ruby mildly. ‘To put the tickets in?’
‘Dammit, you’re right,’ she said, and turned to the attendants. ‘We’ll need to look at handbags too. Satchels, I think.’
‘In the black?’ asked an attendant.
‘Of course.’
Half an hour later they left the shop, goodies in hand, and with Ruby sporting the kind of glow that only came from hitting a credit card hard. ‘Now you,’ she said. ‘Would you like a new suit?’
‘Why? What’s wrong with my suit?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then I don’t want another one.’
‘How about a watch?’
‘I got this one from Poppy and Lena last Christmas. I’ve worn it once.’
‘Well, that’s hardly the watch’s fault,’ she said with a glance at his wrist. ‘It’s a very nice watch. What about gadgetry? New phone? Camera? Computer? What is it that you do?’
‘I troubleshoot computer systems.’ ‘For who?’ She looked intrigued. ‘For those who ask.’ ‘Where are you based?’
‘I don’t have a base. The job’s portable.’
‘But surely life isn’t? Or are you one of those people who just can’t seem to settle anywhere?’
‘Something wrong with variety?’
‘I guess not.’ She didn’t sound impressed. ‘All right. What about a new set of travel bags for Christmas? We’re in the neighbourhood.’
‘There’s some new computer tech I’m interested in. Why don’t you leave it with me?’
‘That’s not what I’m paid to do, and, frankly, I hate leaving jobs undone. It’s a little quirk of mine.’
‘Another one.’
‘Exactly.’ There was that disarming smile again. Feminine weaponry at its finest. ‘If I don’t have a gift for you by the end of the day I won’t sleep. If I don’t sleep I get cranky. It’s not a good look.’
‘How so? Do you abandon the fuchsia headband for a schoolmarm’s bun and a riding crop?’ It was possible. Judging by the shop they’d just raided, anything was possible. Ruby’s golden eyes narrowed. Damon offered up his own disarming smile. ‘I can see that working for you.’
‘I’m glad we went shopping together,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve saved me from fantasising about you later.’
‘Because I’m hard to buy for? Or because I’m homeless.’
‘Neither. There’s something else about you that makes you a dismal relationship choice, and once again I can credit my recently departed father for giving me a heads up.’
‘Sounds ominous.’
‘It is. It’s about deception and disguise and people who deliberately portray themselves as something they’re not. You make a charming wastrel, by the way. I’m very impressed. But that’s not what you are.’
‘So what am I?’ he asked quietly.
‘Far smarter than you’re letting on, for starters,’