The Trouble with Valentine’s by Kelly Hunter Read Free Book Online

Hallie.
    ‘Ten,’ said Hallie.
    ‘In this shop, darling, you’re an eight.’
    Hallie liked the woman better already.
    ‘Do you have any colour preferences?’ the woman asked.
    ‘I like them all.’
    The saleswoman barely suppressed a shudder. ‘Yes, dear. But do they all like
you
? Let’s start with grey.’
    Hallie opened her mouth to protest but the woman was having none of it. She pulled a matching skirt and jacket from the rack and held them out commandingly. ‘Of course, it relies on the wearer for colour and life but I think you’ve got that covered.’
    ‘Umm …’ Hallie took the suit from the woman and held it up for Nick’s inspection. ‘What do you think?’
    ‘I’m confused,’ he said. ‘If I tell you I like it you may or may not decide to buy it, depending on whether
you
like it. However, if I say I don’t like it you’ll feel compelled to buy it whether you like it or not. Am I right?’
    ‘Yes.’ Hallie felt a smile coming on. ‘So what do you think?’
    ‘Try it on.’
    And then when she did and his eyes narrowed and his face grew carefully impassive. ‘No?’ she asked. ‘It’s probably not the look you were after.’
    ‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘It is.’
    Still she hesitated. ‘It’s very—’
    ‘Elegant,’ he said. ‘Understated. Just what we’re looking for.’
    Elegant, eh? Not a term she’d normally use to describe herself. She’d won the right to choose her own clothes in her late teens and in typical teenagerfashion she’d headed straight for the shortest skirts and the brightest, tightest tops. Okay, so she’d matured a little since then—she did have some loose-fitting clothes somewhere in her wardrobe but truth was they didn’t often see daylight. She had never,
ever
, worn anything as classy as this. The suit clung to her every curve, the material was soft and luxurious beneath her hands, like cashmere only not. Even the colour wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. And yet …
    ‘It’s not really me though, is it?’ she said.
    ‘Think of it as a costume,’ said Nick. ‘Think corporate wife.’
    ‘I don’t know any corporate wives.’ Hallie turned to Clea, who was busily browsing a rack of clothes. ‘Unless you’re one?’
    ‘No!’ said Nick hastily. ‘She’s not!’
    ‘It’s very grey, isn’t it, dear,’ said Clea, who glittered like a Vegas slot machine in her gold trousers and blood-red chiffon shirt with its strategically placed psychedelic gold swirls.
    ‘Greyer than a Chinese funeral vase,’ agreed Hallie glumly. ‘Do you have anything a bit more cheerful?’ she asked the saleswoman.
    ‘What about this?’ said Clea, holding up a boldly flowered silk sundress in fuchsia, lime and ivory. ‘This is pretty.’
    ‘Why
my
mother?’ muttered Nick. ‘Why couldn’t we have brought along
your
mother?’
    ‘She died when I was six,’ said Hallie, and waited for the silence that always came. She didn’t mind talking about it, honest. She barely remembered her mother but the memories she did have were good ones.
    ‘Sorry,’ said Nick quietly. ‘You said you’d been raised by your father and brothers but I didn’t make the connection. Try it on.’
    And when she did …
    ‘She’ll take it,’ he told the saleswoman, and Clea nodded her agreement. ‘That’s non- negotiable,’ he said to Hallie.
    So much for the rules of shopping. The dashing Nicholas Cooper had a bossy streak she was more than familiar with. ‘Lucky for you I happen to agree.’
    ‘His father had excellent taste in clothes as well,’ said Clea. ‘Bless his soul.’
    But Hallie wasn’t listening. She was looking at herself in the mirror and her reflection was frowning right back at her as she turned and twirled, first one way and then the other. Finally, hands on hips, she turned to Nick.
    ‘Does this dress make me look fat?’
    Two hours later, Hallie and Clea had purchased enough clothes for a six-month stint on the QEII and as far as Nick was