Four Weddings and a Fiasco: The Wedding Caper by Patricia McLinn Read Free Book Online

Eric’s words pulled her out of her thoughts. They’d reached the stretch of shops. “This lawyer and her conspirators are after money. So the more money it looks like we have, the more likely they’ll zero in on us. Your clothes don't have that look.”
    She was glad he said it bluntly, didn't try to sugarcoat it or lead up to it. That kept it as an issue with the operation. Nothing personal. “You're right. I could have done a little better packing if I’d known what was ahead, but not much. A cop’s wardrobe tends toward uniform and casual.”
    “It suits you.”
    Such a simple thing for him to say, yet it warmed her in a way other compliments never had.
    “I have a solution,” he added. “A manager of the store up there with the green awning does wardrobe consulting. A client's wife swears by her. C’mon, we’ll put you in her hands.”
    “I can’t afford—”
    “Operational expense. I’ll cover it and get reimbursed.”
    He opened the door and ushered her in, allowing no time to argue.

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    H e knew he’d rushed K.D. He’d done it on purpose. It gave her less time to call on her considerable defenses.
    He’d left the shop for the same reasons. She’d have argued about the expense, about his paying. And she would have been uncomfortable modeling clothes for him.
    Depending on what she tried on, he might have been uncomfortable, too, but for other reasons.
    The woman had no idea what she was doing to him. He couldn’t quite believe it, either.
    He should be running the other way. Scared of getting burned again.
    He wasn’t.
    If he’d had any doubts left that K.D. was not Hilary, they ended when he’d purposefully been untactful about her wardrobe not fitting the style needed for Marriage-Save.
    Hilary would have been in a snit for a month. K.D. didn’t blink, and dealt with the situation.
    Yet he’d seen her pleasure when he’d said her clothes suited her.
    He’d meant it. Yes, her clothes fit her just fine. And his libido enjoyed that tremendously. There was more, though. There was a practicality, a reliability, a sure-heartedness to what she wore . . . .
    Okay, he was getting whacky, thinking clothes had a sure-heartedness.
    He’d completed necessary business at the bank. Found some cookies at the bakery for dessert tonight. Wandered into a gift shop with way too many cat statues for his taste. Wasted time in the drug store. Surely, he could return to the dress shop now. If he happened to catch K.D. trying on a couple things . . .
    No such luck.
    When he pushed opened the door, K.D. was on one side of the counter and Mrs. Cavendish was on the other. Between them sat a small pile of clothes and a larger pile of clothes.
    "This is what we're taking," K.D. said, her hand on the small pile.
    Mrs. Cavendish spotted him and smiled with more relief than if he were the cavalry, and she’d been down to her last bullet.
    "Truly, Mr. Larkin, these pieces are entirely necessary for what you indicated." She patted the larger pile.
    He picked up K.D.’s pile and placed it atop Mrs. Cavendish’s "We'll take them all."
    "Eric." He wouldn’t have ignored K.D.’s tone in a cop-citizen situation, but that wasn’t what this was, no matter what she thought.
    "All," he repeated.
    "Excellent, Mr. Larkin. In the end, she dresses beautifully and I believe you will be pleased."
    K.D. glared at the woman. The kind of glare that should have criminals quaking in their bad-guy boots, and irk high-class clerks who already appeared frazzled beneath a calm veneer. He figured it was a good thing the clerk didn’t notice the look K.D. aimed at her. She was too busy smiling at him, or possibly at the credit card he held out.
    "I'm sure I will be pleased," he said, smiling back and not breaking eye contact, so the store manager wouldn’t look toward K.D. Mrs. Cavendish palmed the credit card without a hitch and turned to the register.
    With her back safely to them, he wrapped a hand around K.D.’s