Free Contract with a SEAL (Special Ops: Homefront Book 3) by Kate Aster Page B

all
the designer clothes Vi owned, she really didn’t have an ounce of style about
her. Everything she owned had been chosen by a personal shopper at Bloomingdales.
She glanced around, spotting Bess on the other side of a rack. “Where’s Abby?”
    “Edith said she’d babysit. I don’t think
formal shopping is really of interest to a two-year-old.”
    “Or a 32-year-old if you’re talking about
me,” Vi muttered. “I keep thinking I should just wear something I already own.”
    Resting her hand on her hip, Bess stepped
toward them. “Oh, that would go over great. New man on your arm, but in the
same dress you wore last year with your ex? I think not.”
     “Okay. You’re right. So what do you
have there?” Vi reached out for the first dress hung on Maeve’s forearm. “Seriously?
You can see right through that black lace, Maeve.”
    “It’s got a flesh-colored underlay. All
illusion, baby.”
    Vi took another look. A deep V neckline
and a slit up the front and back would leave little to the imagination. “This
isn’t the Academy Awards. It’s a correspondents’ gala. We’re a little more
conservative at this.”
    “You mean you’re a little more
conservative. I see those financial shows. Those women on Fox Business Network are
revealing more skin on camera during the daytime than this dress does. You’re
trying it on.” With a dismissive wave, Maeve turned back to rack, fingering
through the hangers like the seasoned shopper she was. “So what’s the goal for
the night?”
    Vi glanced between Maeve and Bess. “Umm,
to find a dress, I guess.”
    Maeve shook her head. “Not the goal for
tonight. For Saturday night. I know you’re looking to turn heads, but is there
any head you’re particularly interested in?”
    Vi knew what Maeve was insinuating,
especially after being primed by the conversation with her sister only moments
ago. Why was everyone so interested in seeing her spend the night in Joe’s
hotel room after the gala? At this point, Vi wouldn’t be surprised to hear
Maeve threaten to change the locks on her house just to keep Vi somewhere but
Annapolis that night.
    Vi narrowed her eyes. “Actually, yes. I
want to turn Josh’s head. I want him to look at me and ache with desire,
knowing that I’m with Joe now.”
    “I like the sound of that second part.
The first part is just so-so,” Bess said over her shoulder as she pulled a
dress from the rack, glancing it up and down.
    Maeve’s eyes met Vi’s, locking on them
like tiny tractor beams. She raised one single eyebrow—how did she do
that, anyway? “Well, won’t Josh be pleased when he sees you leave the hotel by
yourself?” Arms still full of dresses, she somehow managed to cross her arms. “Won’t
news of that travel fast? Sure, Vi had a date. But can’t seem to keep him
interested enough to get an invitation to his room.”
    Vi froze momentarily, and then gave a
quick shake of her head. “No one will notice.”
    “They may be financial correspondents,
but at the core, they’re reporters, Vi. Of course they’ll notice,” Maeve
rebutted with a smirk.
    Vi stared blankly at the racks, her blood
pressure edging upward. Why hadn’t she thought of this? She recalled the immense,
cattle-like herd of correspondents swarming the valet at the close of the
evening to wait for their cars, while the big-named network anchors were
whisked away by their drivers. Her shoulders slumped. “Shit,” she cursed
softly, not meaning to speak it aloud.
     “Don’t you think you should just
spend the night in his room?” Bess looked at Vi, a shred of sympathy in her
tone. “I mean, you’re going to all this trouble. May as well do it right.”
    Maeve grinned. “That all depends upon
what ‘it’ is, if I may paraphrase one of our past Presidents.”
    Bess giggled, but Vi’s face couldn’t
crack the slightest smile. “I don’t think I can handle it, guys. Seriously,
he’s way too…”
    “Tempting? Good. Now you can remind