Sam told me to meet him at Barneys in the afternoon and I've been standing outside the store for 3 freaking minutes. He hasn't arrived yet.

Finally, I see him walking down the sidewalk wearing a tight blue shirt and skinny jeans. Boy, he does look good.

"How's it going?" he says.

"You're late," I snap.

He glances at his watch. "I'm only late for 3 minutes."

"Face it, you're still late," I retort. "And you're the one who asked me to help you."

Sam raises his eyebrows and holds up his hands. "I'm sorry and I do appreciate your help," he says almost sincerely. Almost.

I nod and trudge into Barneys and in spite of myself, I feel a little thrown. The entire store is decked out in bright colors and inviting clothing everywhere. People are milling around idly without a care for the world.

"So why are we here?" I ask.

"You need a makeover," he says bluntly.

I glare at him. Until his face clears up and he says, "No, I don't mean any insult to your dressing sense. It's just that you've to dress like my ex-girlfriend."

"Oh, right," I say, a little discomfited.

As we head towards an escalator, I casually say, "So what's your girlfriend like?"

"Mona?" He wrinkles his nose. "Slim, sexy, blonde."

Ah, one of those. I almost roll my eyes. It's so stereotypical that his ex-girlfriend's a stacked blonde but you can't expect anything out of such a hunky man.

We head towards the women's clothing section and I feel a little lost. I sneak a peek at Sam but he looks equally thrown.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" he asks.

"Er.. I've no clue on where to start," I answer.

"But you're a woman, this is your expertise." He gestures to the beautiful dresses and I feel a surge of embarrassment.

"Well, look, I don't come to shopping centres often," I say a little defensively. "So your girlfriend's girly, right?"

He gives me a strange look. "If you mean wearing tight little dresses then yes, she's girly."

I nod and head overs to the dresses section. As I'm browsing them, an assistant with a nametag titled "Michelle" comes over and she smiles brightly.

"Hello there! How may I help you?" she asks enthusiastically.

"Erm, well." My eyes slide over to Sam but he shrugs. "I need a makeover so well..."

Michelle nods and she gives me the onceover. "I must say, you should have stepped in earlier," she said in a bright, clipped voice.

I glare at her. What's that supposed to mean? Is she implying that my dress sense is bad?

"I will help you pick out a few dresses." And then Michelle disappears, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

"Geez, that was so polite," I mutter.

"She's kind of right," Sam says. "I mean, not to say anything, but purple doesn't really suit you." He gestures to my purple sweater and candy-coloured pants.

"Well, Mr-Fancy-Pants, you don't dress that well either," I retort crossly.

He laughs and I can't help but notice he looks really...nice when he throws back his head and laughs a deep, baritone laughter.

At this moment, Michelle returns with a bundle of clothes. She hands them to me and I almost stagger back from the weight.

Heading to the fitting rooms, I purposely throw Sam a death glare but he waves me on.

Hidden in a private room, I pick out the clothing on the top of the pile and grimace. It was a mini dress which looked more like a bathrobe. I put it on and wince when I realize it barely reached my mid-thighs.

"You done?" Sam calls from outside. "Just show me something."

I contemplate changing into another outfit but everything there is about the same. And I spot a bikini lying within the pile. What on earth was that shop assistant thinking?

I walk out of the fitting room. "Look, this sucks ok?" I lift my head and I can almost imagine Sam laughing his butt off at this ludicrous dress.

But when he sees me, he looks a little shocked. His eyes skimmed appreciatively past the dress and lingered a tad too long on my legs.

"Er, so how's this?" I cough and he lifts his head up dazedly.

"It's...it's great," he says a little embarrassedly and I hide a smile.

When I'm done with the lot of dresses, I pick out a few more conservative ones and head towards the counter to pay. I'm just about to hand over some cash when Sam stops me.

"Let me pay," he says, giving the cashier a black American Express card. "To repay the lunch the other day."

"You don't have to," I say. "I mean, these bundle of clothes probably costs-"

"I insist," he says a little stiffly and I shrug. Well, suit him then.

When we emerge from Barneys, there's an awkward pause and he says, "I will see you at the next blind date then."

"Well, ok," I say a little awkwardly and I give a small wave before tottering off to the metro station.

Before I step into the tube, I turn back to glance at him and I'm a little surprised to see him getting into a chauffeured car.

"What the hell?" I squint my eyes as the black Mercedes drives off and shake my head.

That can't be Sam. I mean, he's a real estate agent. He can't afford a chauffeured car. What was I thinking?

I smile and walk into the metro.