"You can't be serious." Good. Jack was annoyed.

His irritation melted away the fuzzy feelings she'd been having since his fingers had brushes against her hip with the oh-so-chaste peck on the cheek he gave Solana upon greeting her in the garage. Every skim of her skin, the pads of his fingers on her elbow, the warmth of his chest as she'd tugged on his tie, every touch aggravated her.

Because she wanted more.

A lot more.

And it was getting harder to resist.

When the willowy saleswoman ate Jack up with her sultry stare, Solana couldn't keep her hands off him. Flames of desire mixed with jealousy burned, and she was very much in danger of marking him as hers with a real kiss. Like the one she'd dreamt about last night. Like the one in his office weeks ago.

That couldn't happen. She would not give in. He couldn't win.

No matter how much she'd enjoy the loss.

To cool things down, she set her mind to the task at hand. Dressing Jack up in the most flamboyant outfits she could find in this froufrou overpriced store he'd brought her to. The upscale snobbery of the place didn't disappoint. The price tag of the duck patterned suit jacket she held toward Jack was better than a cold shower.

The disgust on his face was not supposed to reignite anything. But it did. They way his forehead furrowed, his nose squished and his lips, oh those delicious lips parted, her thighs clenched and she had to dig her fingernails into her palm to resist running to him.

"Deadly serious."

His face softened. "Solana." Her name spilling from his mouth in that slow drawl caused goosebumps to skitter across her skin. He took a step toward her and she mirrored his motion in reverse. She had to keep at least an arm's length between them. "I can't wear that."

"You said I could pick your outfit." She hung the jacket and the three other items on a hook on the wall in the empty dressing room behind her. As she circled around Jack to the other dressing room making up this little private space, Solana caught her reflection in the three-way mirror. Rosey cheeks mocked her.

Damn him for making her... feel.

She straightened her shoulders. "You promised."

Jack leaned against the wall and crossed one foot over the other. "I did, didn't I?" The corner of his mouth twitched. He wasn't irritated. He was amused.

Hands on her hips, she dared him. "Yup. Now are you going to try those on or disappoint?"

He pushed away from the wall and for a moment she thought, no hoped, he might cross the room, but he paused and slowly shook his head. "I never disappoint." With that, he sank back into his dressing room and closed the door, leaving her alone in the alcove.

Three distinctly different dresses hung on the wall in her dressing room like Rembrandt's in a museum. Subtle folds, sharp angles and deep necklines in a collage of ruby red, glittering gold and a pretty mauve created these works of art, the likes of which Solana had seen on the customers she served but never worn herself.

Again, she caught the reflected image of herself in the mirror in this room. The looking glass made the already large space, complete with two chairs, a table covered in toiletries, and a mannequin in the corner, look even bigger. She shook her head at the luxuries of the wealthy. Just like the dresses before her, this was so not her world.

Her fingers ran along the soft folds of the full-length red gown. On her short frame, it was sure to be too long. She constantly had to alter the length of every dress she bought. Luckily, her abuela made her clothes as a child and taught Solana the basics, saving them money.

Eager to try on the garment, she discarded the hand-me-down dress, one her mother had left behind in her last dash from home, and stepped into the silky material. The gown was so tight she had to squirm into it. Once the slim straps were in place, her mouth fell open when she turned to the mirror. The mermaid style was not only beautiful, it fit her in all the right places. The stiff material clung to her hips, accentuated her waist, and pushed her slim breasts into two defined curves. Paired with the deep sweetheart neckline, she had a defined bosom.

Jack had a good eye for these things, an artistic eye.

She wondered how different his life might have been had he been allowed to explore his creative side instead of suppressing it. Solana shot an angry curse at the dead uncle for his cruelty. Deep inside, Jack hid a tender side she doubted many ever got to see.

A thrill went through her at the thought she was one of the lucky few.

"Are you ready to strut your stuff for me?" She giggled at the image of Jack in the jacket with the palm tree print or the hounds tooth pants she'd selected on a whim.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." His voice growled through the adjoining wall that separated them.

Neither could she. "You promised."

His groan made her smile.

In high heels being held on to her size eight feet by one slim strap, Solana wobbled out into the private antechamber the upscale fashion store had placed them in. The crimson dress may be stunning, but with its lack of give, if she planned on doing anything beyond standing in one spot like a model all evening, it was out. How did women sit in these things? Or use the restroom?

The other dressing room's door cracked open, and Jack's perfectly coiffed dark hair popped out, swerving back and forth. "Is there anyone else here?"

"Just you and me, sweetheart."

Ice-blue eyes met hers and Solana almost fell over at the impact. Would she ever get used to the heated stare of his? His gaze burned as he took her in from head to toe and back again, a sexy grin slowly spreading across his face. "Well, that's a winner. Fits you like a glove."

"More restrictive than a glove. I can barely move." She wobbled over to the bench beside the mirror and attempted to sit down, achieving more of a laying status. "Your turn. Get out here."

"No laughing." Jack swung the door open and the CEO of Blackhorne & Caldwell, revered by many, emulated by a few, strutted out into the dressing room, looking dapper yet ridiculous in a neon-coloured Hawaiian themed jacket and hot pink slim pants that strained against his toned thighs.

Solana giggled with glee. "You look hot."

"A hot mess. What drug was this designer on when they came up with this colour combo? The jacket is so bright they'll be able to see me on the moon." He pulled on the yellow lapels.

Solana stretched out her leg and ran a shoeless toe up Jack's calve. Hard muscles met her touch. "I like these tight pants. They cling in all the right places."

Jack ambled over to the bench, leaned down, and placed a hand on each side of her. "Just like this dress." Except he wasn't examining her dress. His gaze locked on hers. The stare combined with the scent of him, a tinge of spice mixed with the undefinable yet utterly irresistible made her abdomen ache. A voice in the back of her brain yelled, 'run away, leave, don't let him influence you' and her pulse staccato'd. "I'd have fun peeling it off you."

The black in his pupils expanded, and she dug her fingers into the soft tapestry of the cushion, clinging to the furniture for dear life. If she let go, she would drown in the dark pools. Drown in him.

Would it be so bad? Losing to him in this little game of cat and mouse they'd played since day one. The reward, him, had to be worth it. Her gaze fell to his lips. All it would take was to lean forward and capture his mouth, break the friendship pact with one kiss.

Solana's abs crunched as she attempted to move. But the damned dress got in the way, the fabric refusing to let her reach her goal and robbing her lungs of precious air. The wiring under her chest, which produced the magnificent silhouette, dug into her ribcage and the sharp pain snapped the spell she was under.

"It's too tight," she whispered. "I can't breathe."

A dent formed in the space between Jack's eyebrows. In a swift motion, he snaked his hand around her waist and hoisted her into the air. Oxygen returned to her lungs as she gasped and gripped his shoulders to steady herself. The move completely unnecessary as his powerful arms had a solid hold on her. Now vertical, the pain dispersed, replaced by pleasure at the very solid form she pressed against. The shoes plunked on the floor and her feet dangled in space. He had complete control of her.

They were eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose and, if she wanted, lips-to-lips. It's all up to you. His words from earlier rang in her head.

His mouth spoke. "Better."

She nodded, unable to trust herself if she tried to utter a word. The crease marring his handsome face evaporated and Solana was floating through the air. He held her in his arms like she was nothing, the weight of a feather. Muscles flexed and smoothed with the rocking motion of his long, slow strides.

The balls of her feet touched rough material as he placed her on the seat of the chair in her dressing room. His hands moved to her shoulders and wordlessly, he asked her to turn around. Reluctantly, she let go of him and rotated. Warm spurts of air on the back of her neck sent tingles down her spine, soon followed by hot fingers against her skin as he found the zipper of her dress and eased it open. She placed her hands against the wall, closed her eyes and reveled in the sensations of him.

Warm and hot.

Sweet and spicey.

Hard and tender.

Her resolve liquified, and she knew Jack Blackhorne was going to win.

Hey D L here. Solana held out for 32 chapters. Not bad right?

Any guesses on what will happen in chapter 33?

This chapter was late because I had way too much fun drooling over dresses for Solana. There are a few options on my BlackHearted board over on Pinterest.