Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
I grimaced, feeling bad that we would be tricking his mom into thinking that something was going on between us. But having just spent time with my parents while my mom grilled me about when I’d finally find a boyfriend, I totally got why Jordan wanted a reprieve. At least I could use my brother as a shield since he was older than me and lived closer to them. All I had to do when my mom got pushy was remind her that he should have given her grandbabies already. Sadly for her, he was too busy with his professional surfing career to be interested in dating.
Plus, pretending to be madly in love with Jordan for one night wouldn’t be a hardship. “I guess I’ll need to get used to people being curious about me because of Jordan. At least for a little while.”
“Showing up on the arm of a famous professional athlete will certainly make people speculate about you.” She rubbed her palms together with a grin. “But it could also do wonders for your modeling career. I bet your photo will be in the Post. You should give your agent a heads-up so you can capitalize on the free publicity.”
“No way. I’m going to the gala to help Jordan, not take advantage of him.” I shook my head and pointed at everything he’d sent over. “I already feel bad enough that he spent so much money on all of this.”
“You didn’t ask him for anything,” she reminded me, well aware that it was Jordan’s idea to cover the things I would need for the charity gala.
“I know,” I sighed. “And it actually turned out to be a good thing that Jordan went overboard.”
Shaking her head, Marleigh quirked a brow and planted a hand on her hip. “There is no such thing as going overboard when it comes to fashion.”
“Not to anyone who’s as obsessed as you are, but I definitely didn’t need this many gowns to choose from.” I gestured toward the rack of dresses. “Although at least I’m guaranteed to find something that will work for the event. It would have been awful if I needed to go shopping tomorrow.”
“You definitely won’t need to go looking for a different gown,” she assured me as she jerked her chin toward the row of dresses. “I couldn’t resist looking through what he sent over, and most of them will work.”
I laughed softly as I turned to look at the rack. “I already assumed that you examined each of the gowns from neckline to hem and every stitch in between. I figured there was no way you would have been able to resist the temptation of tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of high-end fashion while it sat in your living room.”
“More like a hundred thousand, at least,” she snorted.
I took a step back, my eyes widening. Considering how many dresses Jordan had sent over, I shouldn’t have been surprised that the total hit six figures. But I trusted Marleigh’s math since she studied fashion like it was her business—and as an aspiring designer, it was.
“I’ll only be wearing one of them, though. I’m sure that personal shopper will come back for the rest once I pick a gown for tomorrow.”
“From what she said when she was here, I don’t think we’ll be seeing her again, but maybe I’m wrong. Either way, there’s no need to look far for the perfect dress. With your hourglass shape, this one will look killer on you.” Marleigh pulled an eggplant evening gown from the rack. It was floor length with off-the-shoulder short sleeves, a high waist, and would hug my body until the skirt began to flare at my knees. “It’s exactly your size and will be so flattering. Your football player definitely has an eye…for you.”
“Don’t make this more than it is,” I warned. One of us needed to keep a level head about this situation, and I wasn’t sure it could be me. “I already explained to you that I’m just stepping in for the woman who stood Jordan up last month. He only asked me because he needed someone to go with him, and I was right there.”
“Mm-hmm.” My best friend didn’t look as though she agreed with my explanation, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she shoved the gown against my chest and demanded, “Here, try this one on. I want to see how you look in it.”
“Fine,” I huffed, lifting the dress higher with one hand as I grabbed the handle of my suitcase with the other before I tromped into my bedroom. Then I stripped out of my traveling clothes and slipped the eggplant gown over my head. The silky material felt amazing against my skin, but I couldn’t get the zipper all the way up by myself. “Hey, can you help me with this?”