Free No Strings Attached: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eight by Julie Moffett Page B

aren’t going to, you know, come into the dressing room, right?” she said.
    “No, of course not.” I tried to sound as sure of myself as possible, although I knew no such thing. “Hey, look, the parking lot is almost empty, well, except for the FBI guys pulling in behind us. I bet that means we’ll have the whole store to ourselves. Yay!”
    I jumped out of the car and tried to look as enthusiastic as I could, considering I was about to spend an hour in this store with nothing more to do than look at expensive, fancy dresses. Why I had to tag along was a mystery, except it was apparently an important responsibility of a maid of honor, in addition to throwing the bachelorette party. I also had to try on my bridesmaid gown, which I was dreading. Not because the dress wasn’t pretty—it was. It was a soft red dress that fell just below my knees with short sleeves and a high, cinched waist. The reason I was dreading it was because mine had to be taken in around the boobs. That meant someone would be prodding and arranging me there, which I hated. But I sucked it up and smiled like there was no place I’d rather be.
    “Come on, let’s go in,” I said.
    As I held open the door for her, I saw the FBI agents getting out of the car. OMG! Were they really going to come in?
    The bell on the door jangled and a perky young blonde with too much makeup on rushed out to greet us. “Hi, I’m Amanda, your bridal consultant for the day. Which one of you is Basia?”
    Basia stepped forward. “I’m Basia Kowalski. This is Lexi Carmichael, my maid of honor.”
    Amanda turned to me and then stopped. “Oh, Lexi, what happened to your face?”
    “I walked into a door.” I grimaced. “I’m a major klutz. It will all be cleared up by the wedding, I’m sure.”
    I was a rotten liar and Amanda looked suspicious, but she didn’t say anything. “Well, I’m so thrilled to meet you both. We’re going to have so much fun today. Basia, I’ll make sure you are an absolutely stunning bride. Now remind me, when is the wedding?”
    “In thirty-two days...not like I’m counting.” Basia threw up her hands. “Who am I kidding? I’m a nervous wreck. But I can’t wait to see the dress.”
    Basia had special ordered a custom-made wedding dress online through a subcontractor of the boutique’s. Now that it had finally arrived, she’d be able to try it on and have any necessary alterations made in plenty of time for the wedding.
    “Your dress arrived last night,” Amanda said. “I haven’t even had time to unwrap it yet.”
    I glanced around. The store was completely empty.
    Amanda glanced over my shoulder as the FBI agents in suits and dark glasses entered the store, the bell on the door jangling. One agent remained by the door with his arms crossed while the other starting walking through the racks of dresses, apparently looking for lurking perpetrators.
    Jeez.
    “Are they with you?” Amanda asked.
    “Ah, them?” I jerked my thumb toward the one by the door.
    The FBI agent by the door stared at me without expression. Not that you could actually see an expression behind the large sunglasses.
    “Yes, them,” Amanda said. Her tone indicated she thought I was slow.
    “Well, yes, they are with us, but they aren’t with us, if you know what I mean. They’re just watching. Ignore them. I’m the only official one in the party today.”
    Amanda seemed puzzled, but this was Washington, DC, where people follow people around all the time, so she didn’t protest. “Okay. Well, ladies, please follow me to dressing room number one. Let me gather your dresses and I’ll meet you in there.”
    We followed her to the dressing room. It was a decent-sized room with a small stage in front of three full-length mirrors, presumably so you could see yourself and the dress from every angle. There was a long white couch, two comfortable armchairs and a coffee table covered by a white paper tablecloth upon which sat a silver bucket with two