by Jody Klaire
“Is that cellulite?” she shot at Blanche as she strode by and flicked at Blanche’s very short skirt.
Blanche sucked in a breath and craned her head around to check out her own backside. Darcy strolled on, smug smile on her face.
Yeah, she was a bitch, but ugh, did it suit her. She reached Zoë and gave her a flirty wink—and cue that smug glance back at Blanche, who folded her arms. Kate leaned her chin to the top of the door. What a bitch, what a woman.
“Kate, you need to come out,” Darcy said, then stopped. Her eyes glinted—panic? She glanced back at Zoë who did her best I-didn’t-hear-anything-wrong-with-that face.
Blanche just rolled her eyes and clipped Zoë across the head. “Suck up.”
In response, Zoë poked her in the side, and they started bickering under their breath.
Susannah smiled, a warm, sweet smile, and nodded.
It made Darcy’s shoulders relax. She nodded back and turned to the door. “We’re about to start filming… Kate?”
Why had Darcy looked so terrified? Kate swallowed. “Er... give me a minute.”
“And rolling…” Marge grinned and motioned to the cameraman.
Darcy turned to the camera. “Helping a woman to feel good in clothes that are unfamiliar can be a difficult task.” She motioned to the changing room. “Clothes that are different can pull at your insecurities, and Kate may feel this way.”
Kate went to lower herself down. Her dress caught on the hooks, and she tried to tug it free. Rip. Oh shit.
Darcy walked over to the door and peered at it—guess she couldn’t see Kate peeking over. “Kate, do you need help?”
“No?” she whispered, squeaked. Hopefully Zoë hadn’t made the dress. “Just…um…hanging out.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow at the door. “The camera is rolling. Please don’t be worried about how you look. You’ll be wonderful.”
“I look like I’m in drag,” she whispered down to her.
“Not in the right dress.” Darcy’s gaze flicked over the door, and her smile was unguarded, full of gentleness and compassion. “You’ll look beautiful.”
“Not sure about that.” She tried to tug herself free again. Another rip. Oh shit. She’d have to stay on the door, feet clinging to the ledge at the bottom, hands white from hanging on.
“I am.” Darcy frowned, and she put her hands on her hips. “You need to come out.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” she mumbled. She couldn’t hold on much longer.
Darcy’s eyes narrowed, and she yanked open the door. Kate swung into the wall with a thud, smacked her nose, and groaned.
“Where—?” Darcy peered up at her, mouth contorted. “I know dresses aren’t your thing, but they are not that hard to put on.”
“I…er…” The cameras were still rolling. Marge, Zoë, and the others were howling with laughter, that complete unhinged silent laughter. Sniggers came from the crew, side gripping, silent laughter, from Susannah who bent double. “It’s a security thing. Thought I needed to be on the door.”
Darcy blurted out her gorgeous laugh. “Best we lower your expectations.” She put her hands on Kate’s hips and eased her down. Rip. The front of the dress flapped forward, and out was her bra and stomach on national TV again.
“Don’t think anyone is in doubt you’re female now,” Zoë said, gaze locked on Kate’s bra. Blanche slapped her across the head while also staring at the bra. Darcy stared at the empty changing room, her face bright red.
Kate pulled up the flapping material. “Think I might need a replacement.”
“Cut, move to the catwalk segment,” Marge managed, tears rolling down her cheeks. “The shot is too shaky.”
The cameraman lowered his large camera, shoulders shuddering. “Sorry, Marge.”
Kate eased Darcy out of her way and walked back into the changing room. She closed the door. Dresses were not for the faint-hearted.
Chapter 23
Darcy chewed on her lip and paced up and down the small aisle between clothing racks next to the changing rooms. She should go in there. She always helped her patient and talked them through stepping out in clothing they were unsure about, but she couldn’t with Kate. She didn’t know how it had looked on camera when Kate had flashed that bra, but it had to be incriminating. It felt it.
Zoë and Blanche chatted away to Kate’s mum on one side as Mikey danced around. Susannah was next to Marge, both eying Darcy like she might dissolve into tears, and she…she could not go into a confined space with Kate.
“We’re about to go live again,” Marge said, nodding to the cameraman. “Are you going to help her?”
“No.” Short, sharp, flustered.
Susannah raised her eyebrows. “She broke one dress, Mum. She might put this one on when she’s taken it off the hanger.”
Darcy tittered, actually tittered. Nerves. She rolled her eyes. Anyone would think Kate was giving birth to their child—what? No. Panic hunched up her shoulders, and she bit her lip. She was not thinking that ever again.
“And rolling.” Marge’s eyebrows contorted into a half-glare, half-confused expression until she looked like she had wind.
“Kate is trying again with her dress.” She rolled her eyes. Slapstick and style. “For many women, dresses, skirts, they are terrifying prospects.” Not many resorted to climbing doors, but she could imagine some wanted to. “These items of clothes are for the ‘girly girls’ as Kate calls them. As if these women are the only ones who have the right.” She wagged her finger. “Why should you, dear ladies, be forced not to wear something out of intimidation?”
“Maybe we just don’t want to wear them?” Kate grumbled from her changing room. “Or feel like a bloke in a dress?”
“It has very little to do with gender and more to do with confidence,” she shot back.
Marge smiled like she might propose. Why? And it was rather unnerving. Even Susannah beamed at her.
“And a body shape that suits them,” Kate muttered. “Zoë said I’m angular or something.”
“We have been through this. You’re a mix.” She shot a glare at Zoë and started pacing. “Don’t pay any attention to her; she designs clothes.”
“Hey!” Zoë put her hands on her hips as Mikey sniggered.
Darcy shrugged. “No one is that skinny unless they are only measuring their spine.”
Zoë motioned to Blanche who twirled. Yes, she was that skinny.
“She is not real. I mean an actual woman, not a twig with a head.” She clamped her mouth shut. Did she just say that…on TV?
Susannah snorted with laughter, and was Kate sniggering? Sounded like a snigger. “Get out here, woman, or I am coming in to get you.” She scowled at the door and resumed pacing. It helped a bit. Didn’t clamp her mouth shut, but at least she wasn’t blushing.
“Tweet question,” Susannah called out. “How can women feel more confident when they are in a dress?” She rubbed the back of her neck. “There’s hundreds of questions like that.”
Darcy met Zoë’s gaze. “Wear it like no one is looking.”
Yes, Zoë had always been brave, always a guide when it came to confidence. That easy confidence that was innate. She would never have hidden in a changing room. “Wear it like no one is looking.” It had been Zoë’s way to support her and seduce her all at once. How many times had they whispered that to each other? A rolling screen of memories tormented her. The first time: behind the scenes at the fashion show, lined up, ready to go. Newish lovers, full of passion for each other, dressed in next to nothing under long trench coats.
“I’m…” She longed to lean in, right there, and sneak beneath Zoë’s coat. Longed to forget they couldn’t—shouldn’t be so close. “I’m scared.” She meant them, she meant the fact that she hadn’t had a period for over two months, the fact that this fashion show was a big one,
the biggest they’d been in.
“Wear it like no one is looking…” Zoë whispered and winked at her, a flush of pure desire in her eyes. “Just me… Wear it for me.”
Even when she’d adored Zoë, it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t feel comfortable. She wanted to, she wanted to be proud of the gorgeous woman who was always there for her…but she couldn’t, and if she couldn’t with Zoë then she never would. No. She blinked the memory away, eyes misting. Lonely was better than breaking someone else’s heart. It was better to stay lonely, yes.
Susannah glared at Zoë, who raised her eyebrows. “How do you wear it like no one is looking in public?”
“By remembering that you have the right to wear what you like.” Darcy resumed pacing, faster. She felt dizzy. “Now get out here!”
Kate shoved open the door—electric-blue evening gown, tapered at the waist to create shape and plunging from string straps to show the contours of a pert chest, out over the hips and down past the knee.
Darcy walked into the clothing rack. It clattered to the floor with a clang, and two cameramen jumped out of the way.
“Okay?” Kate hurried over and stooped to help her only showing off another lacy bra. This time in black. Darcy stumbled upright. Okay? No. Not okay. Kate’s eyes were so close, blooming with colour, the electric blue pulling out touches and flecks. Why did just looking at Kate rip the calm from her? How did it feel so good just to look at her?
“If you still think you are a guy in drag, you need to take my membership away,” Zoë mumbled with an elongated groan.
“And mine.” Blanche let out a wistful sigh.
Darcy couldn’t pull her gaze from Kate, from the gorgeous green eyes, from the smile trying to reassure her, from the warm hand holding her arm. She didn’t care that half the sponsor’s shoddy clothes were on the floor, that Mikey was cheering all by himself for some reason, that Zoë, Blanche, Susannah, and the cameras were riveted to Kate and her. Waiting. “You’re beautiful.”
Kate’s throat flexed—showpiece necklace really would work around the long, elegant neck. Very kissable, too kissable. “I feel…awkward.”
“The heels are too high for you,” she whispered, her tone intimate, her body unwilling to move, to put distance between them. “You’re elegant enough without them.”
Kate smiled, the same smile that had seen her half-naked on top of her own dining table. “I don’t feel too much like a bloke in this one.”
“Because I picked it.” And she’d designed it. Trust Zoë to have it made. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think it was Zoë’s way of guiding her all over again…just this time into Kate’s arms.
Kate cocked her head.
Darcy leaned in—caught herself—back up, back up, now. She jumped backward and clattered into the second camera.
“Cut, move to sponsor segment,” Marge said like she didn’t want to.
Darcy turned from Kate as Mikey cheered and gave her a thumbs up. Susannah studied her, eyes narrowed.
“Break?” She squeaked. “Best we give Kate some…um…hair…make-up.” She cleared her throat. “Lunch…yes…lunch.” She strode off through the store, ready to find the fire escape. Kate stirred something even Zoë hadn’t…something that seemed to pull at her even in front of a camera. What was she doing? Kate must see it; she must know. What if Kate felt it too? Not good, escape, yes… It was better she run.
Chapter 24
Kate yawned as she dragged herself to the apartment. She’d stayed behind to be introduced to hair and make-up. She didn’t know why she needed to curl her eyelashes, and mascara made her itchy. She sighed. Perhaps Bennie had been right and she wasn’t girly enough.
“Mum, Kate’s home,” Susannah chimed out, head in her tablet on the sofa.
Kate stopped. Oh, that sounded way too good.
Mikey galloped from the direction of her bedroom and waved. “We’re doing jumps.” He flashed a goofy grin.
Darcy galloped in behind him. How much that picture would make her fans giggle? Style Surgeon and imaginary show jumper. “Did I hit the water?”
Mikey turned over his shoulder. “Nope. Perfect.”
Darcy beamed at him. The warmth curled up through Kate and squeezed at her heart. Darcy was so beautiful. Kate leaned against the door, wanting somehow to just take a picture or film it. Mikey clearly had a hero thing going with Darcy, and who could blame him?
“Kate-oh, you look sleepy.” He galloped over and threw himself into her arms. “Your hair looks funny.”
She nodded, and it bounced about. “They thought I needed feathers.”
He frowned. “You a duck?”
Darcy chuckled and strolled over. She reached out and fluffed up Kate’s hair. “Feathering is when you chop two inches from the tips.” She took a strand of hair and made a scissor action. “Then it brings out Kate’s eyes and sculpts her cheekbones.” She eased the hair back and stroked the pad of her thumb over Kate’s cheek.
Because that didn’t make a tickle run the length of her spine and plummet somewhere really not appropriate. “Went with perming my lashes.” She widened her eyes with a scrunched-up mouth, and Mikey chuckled.
“Perm?” He leaned in and head-butted her nose.
Ow. She rubbed it and his forehead. His spatial awareness had been rubbish before he fell. “Yeah.”
Darcy tutted and lifted her face up by the chin, peering at her like a doctor. “Wonderful job.” She ran her thumb over Kate’s eyebrows. “Excellent shape.”
“Luigi did it.” She so wanted to lean in and kiss her.
“That’s his name!” Darcy grinned and turned over her shoulder to Susannah, eying them with some deep thought, if the crinkled brow was anything to go by.
“Why don’t I take Mikey and your mum to the shop?” Susannah blurted out like Mikey had never seen a shop before.
“We have shops in Wales,” Kate said with a smirk.
There was Darcy’s full-bodied laugh. “Best I say nothing.”
“I bet.” Cheeky, huh? Kate slid her hand to Darcy’s ribcage and tickled. “Oi, you’ll get Sproutman on his soapbox.”
Darcy howled with laughter again. Not just a wriggle away or a squirm, but a full, girly shriek of laughter while slapping her hands. Oh, that was priceless.
“Tickle?” Mikey grabbed his own ribs. “Again.”
“You got it.” She snuck another tickle in. Darcy shriek-laughed again and added hopping about to the slapping.
“Stop it.” Darcy held her finger up, smirk on her face, challenge in her eyes.
“Yes, let’s go and get some milk,” Susannah said like she wasn’t covering her mouth to hide her snigger.
“We have milk.” Darcy raised an eyebrow at her. Yeah, Kate didn’t need to be her mother to know Susannah was being shifty.
“Rice milk,” Susannah said like she’d just thought of it. “You want to come for a walk, Mikey?”
He barked at her.
Susannah and Darcy stared at him.
“That’s what my stepdad says when he’s off to the pub and takes the dog.” Kate ruffled his hair. “He teases Mikey with it too.” Why he thought it was funny, she didn’t know, but then he’d thought having an affair with a married mother of two was a good idea.
“You can’t go anyway,” Darcy said, her tone all mother’s orders.
Susannah responded with the classic teenage scowl and slunk onto one hip. “Why?”
“There’s cameras outside.” Darcy furrowed her brow like she’d get snappy, then relaxed her face and smiled. “You may have guessed I’m on their spot-and-snap list at the moment.”
“Aren’t you always?” Kate asked, then shrugged as both McGregors scowled at her in perfect unison. “They love you.”
“I love you.” Mikey gazed up at Darcy, awe in his eyes.
Darcy clear
ed her throat. Aqua eyes misted, and she splayed her hand over her chest. “My dear Sproutman, I am very fond of you too.”
“And me.” Susannah bumped Darcy’s hip. “Let’s go tell your mum that.”
Darcy put her hands on her hips. “What are you up to?”
“I think you need to break Kate in about rehab,” Susannah said, but it was a lie, if the averted gaze counted for anything.
Darcy narrowed her eyes.
“Let’s go.” Susannah flashed a smile and galloped off. Mikey galloped after her.
Kate stared at her feet. Could tension in a room throb? Felt like it. Felt like the space between them thrummed. “Rehab?”
“Yes,” Darcy mumbled, staring after Susannah and Mikey. She sighed and straightened her shoulders. “It’s a segment on how to attract men.”
Why would she need that? Kate rolled her eyes. “Open another button on my shirt?”
“That’s incredibly shallow.” Darcy eyed her. “You’re worth a lot more than that.” She dropped her gaze to Kate’s lips. “A woman can attract a man with her intelligence and beauty.”
“Right. Pop another button on my shirt.” She winked at her. Worked for the bloke in the gym. He’d given her a whole month’s membership free once.
Darcy tapped her on the nose. “No. I don’t want them offering payment, just a date.”
“How does that help me again?” She got the fact it was a show, but if a guy liked her, he liked her, and she still wouldn’t be interested.
“Because it’s part of the show.” Darcy sighed at her like she was being difficult, then held her gaze, full stun-look on. “Just try?”
“My eyelashes got a perm, doesn’t that count?” She batted them and fixed on Darcy’s lips. The gloss shimmered in the overhead lights. Looked…delicious. “What if I—?”
Darcy kissed her. Fruity gloss-covered lips captured her own, followed by a slender hand that threaded through her hair. The other hand eased her back against the door. Okay, conversation over. She was good with that. She pulled Darcy closer.
