The Playboy's Proposal (Sorensen Family) (5 page)

Chapter Five

This was a bad idea.

Never in a million years would she have gone into this store. This was the place where women like Payton and Kate, her beautiful sisters-in-law, would shop. Where Daisy would shop. Benny much preferred the low-stress ambience of Target. They had designer clothes, too, right?

She looked at the tall brunette that was hanging on every word Henry uttered. If she pushed her breasts out any farther she was bound to pop him in the eye with those things. Not that he’d be complaining.

“I don’t understand why we’re even here,” she said when Henry returned, taking a perch on the back of the chair where Ella was playing Angry Birds on Henry’s monster-size smartphone.

“Because I’m betting that your wardrobe consists of twenty shades of scrubs and more of those hideous sneakers you’re partial to. You don’t have to go glamour girl, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to look more feminine every once in a while. When was the last time you wore jeans?” She just stared at him. “You do own a pair of jeans, right?”

“Yes.” She’d bought some just two years ago. But she hated the way they kept sliding down her butt and she had to hitch them up every ten minutes. The elastic waist and draw ties of the scrubs were infinitely more comfortable and didn’t threaten to fall down.

“The first thing you need to realize is that you’re a woman. This shapeless, amorphous look of yours is fine. If you’re trying to disappear in a crowd. But you want to stand out. And clothes that actually fit is a good place to start.”

The saleswoman returned with stacks of clothes in her arms and went to hang them up in the dressing room. “How did she even know what size to get?”

“We took a guess. Now stop complaining and get inside. We’re not leaving until you have two pairs of slacks, a pair of jeans, at least three tops, and one dress.” He stopped, eyeing her cleavage. “A new bra couldn’t hurt, either. I know you’ve got breasts under there, but you make it almost impossible to tell.”

The urge to kick him was almost too powerful but she managed to restrain herself and gave him a withering glare instead, then and turned to follow the saleswoman back to the dressing room.

The door shut behind her, she stared at the clothes hung neatly on hangers and stacked on the bench next to her. A particularly pretty green wrap dress caught her eye, something she would never have chosen for herself in a million years. But it was pretty.

She glanced at the price tag, and her eyes bugged out. She could buy lattes for a month with what it would cost her for this one dress. No, probably a year. Not that she couldn’t afford it now, with her new salary, but not living frugally was a new thing for her after scrimping the past few years.

The next dress with a cutout in the back had her cringing. How would she even wear a bra in that thing?

She wiped her forehead, which was damp with sweat from her barely repressed panic attack.
Is it hot in here?

She was so out of her element.

Benny had always felt like she was trying—and failing—at playing dress up when she wore dresses, only wearing them under protest, like at Kate’s wedding last spring. It might have something to do with the fact that most dresses she wore as a kid had been Daisy’s castoffs. Castoffs had made up the majority of her wardrobe growing up as the youngest of four kids. Unfortunately, when Benny hit her teens and puberty, the pounds just seemed to pack on, and she found it near impossible to fit in any of Daisy’s clothes without her belly hanging over the top of the pants, so she would have to leave the zipper not all the way done up. The feeling of her legs squished into Daisy’s old pants, the tightness of the shirt when Benny doubled her bra size in one summer, was a distant but distasteful memory.

When her dad’s construction company started to take off by the time she was sixteen, thanks to his growing sons’ help, the family was finally able to afford a lot more things, including a firsthand wardrobe for Benny. But by then, all she wanted was the biggest and loosest things she could find. To hide the rolls and bulges. To hide swelling breasts that the boys snickered at and the girls looked at in disgust. And even though she’d lost most of that baby fat—although there were some curves that just weren’t going to go away, the curse of being a Latina woman—the inclination to want to hide herself was hard to suppress.

And now this guy wanted her to dump the baggy for tight and formfitting? It was enough to give her hives.

She pulled off her pants and kicked them to the corner and held up a pair of jeans. They looked like someone had already worn them, with crease marks on the sides by the pockets, the scuffing along the leg. This was stylish?

“How’s it coming in there?” Henry called out just as she finished zipping up the jeans.

“You do know I’m a pediatrician, right? I don’t think the kids are going to care about what I’m wearing before they throw up on me.”

“But
you’ll
know. You’ll care. And so will Dr. Seeley. He is the person we’re here for, right?”

She didn’t bother to respond, instead tugging the first shirt off the hanger and pulling it over her head. “Shouldn’t we be working on conversation? What to talk about? You know, the real stuff?”

“You’re not going to feel capable of talking to him until you feel confident about yourself. When you know you look good, when you’re at your best, you’d be surprised how much easier it is to hold a conversation with a person you might not otherwise.”

She made a fake gagging noise. “Thank you, Dr. Phil.”

“Trust me on this. In one week’s time, you’re going to feel like a different person.”

“I like the person I am.”

He sighed. “I’m sure you’re a terrific person.” She could hear the sarcasm in his tone. “But you’re trying to get Dr. Luke Seeley to see you as a woman. Not the goofy new kid in the office who would sooner run into a wall than make eye contact.”

He might have a point.

She stared at herself in the reflection, still unable to feel anything but ridiculous. The shirt was pink and hideous. Not helped by the way the buttons puckered around chest level, trying not to burst.

The jeans though… She turned around and lifted the shirt up. Hmm. Her butt didn’t look too bad. Actually, almost kind of decent. She turned back and studied the front.

Okay. So these didn’t make her legs feel like summer sausage, stuffed in thick, uncomfortable casings.

This shirt, though, had to go.

She threw it off and grabbed another one. It was a soft blue that she was kind of curious to see on.

Another minute later and she studied herself. Not bad, even if she might hate the slight constriction around the chest.

“Are you going to show me anything? I am something of an expert and might be able to give you a qualified opinion.”

What was she waiting for?

She opened the door and stepped out to the waiting room to find Ella seated on Henry’s lap, her little legs dangling in front of him, Henry’s phone tight in their hands as they played a game together. The sight of the philandering playboy with the preschooler in such an unguarded and sweet moment sent an unwanted rippling of something hot down to her belly…and beyond. Henry sensed her presence and looked up at her, unaware of the reaction she was having to the scene.

Henry tilted his head and nodded. “Other than the eye rolling when you came out here, I would say you already feel a little different. The jeans look great on you. And the shirt—” He studied her again. “Great color.” His eyes dropped to her chest. “But that bra isn’t really helping. You know, bras were invented to lift you up, to be supportive. I’m not exactly sure what kind of action is going on here.”

The saleswoman, who had been standing to the side waiting for Henry’s slightest command, nodded and came toward her with a measuring tape in hand. “Let’s get you measured.”

Benny raised her arms to her chest almost defensively, and the saleswoman actually smiled. “Let’s go to the dressing room. I promise you’ll thank me for it.”

With another glare thrown in Henry’s direction, who already had his eyes back on the phone screen as Ella giggled, she followed the woman back to be groped.

…

Henry looked at his watch, wondering what was taking Benny so long this time. She defied everything he understood of the opposite sex—he’d thought clothes shopping was naturally built into their DNA.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t have a surprisingly decent shape once you got rid of those damned scrubs. Thanks to the pair of jeans she’d begrudgingly put on, he was hard-pressed not to notice the curves the woman had in all the right places. It had been, frankly, something of a surprise.

The door of the dressing room creaked open and he prepared himself for whatever scowl or objections she was going to lay on him. But the soft-looking, sexy woman standing in front of him barefoot in a snug green dress that wrapped around her voluptuous body was not what he’d expected. He swallowed, telling himself not to overreact.

She was watching him uncertainly, he realized, and he studied those nervous blue eyes. Even without a trace of makeup, they were captivating.

He smiled, hoping he didn’t look as lecherous as he felt.

“Pretty. Like a princess,” Ella volunteered, glancing up for a moment from her game.

“Now
that
is exactly what you want to wear to capture the attention of the good doctor.” He tore his gaze from hers—harder than he’d have expected—to follow along the lines of her body.

The bra the saleswoman had found for her was nothing short of genius. Why had she been hiding those things? He smiled and glanced up to find her eyes narrowed, as if she knew exactly where he’d been looking.

This was not being overly pervy. He had a task to do. That was all. He grinned again, without apology.

“I feel like I’m trying too hard. It’s not too much?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her waist as if trying to hide from inspection.

The dress was actually conservative by many women’s standards. Even though it clung to her body, it wasn’t overly tight, or too short, hitting just at her knees, and the neckline stopped in a V that revealed an enticing amount of skin, but no real cleavage.

“I think this is exactly what you need. It’s classy but also sexy. And Dr. Seeley won’t know what hit him. I promise. Now I think all we need is a few pairs of nice, tailored slacks that you can wear at the office and maybe a pair of shoes that don’t say, ‘geriatric grandma,’ and you’ll be set.”

A little over an hour later, Benny had just paid for her clothes when Ella pulled on Henry’s arm. “I’m hungry. Can we stop at the place with the funny hats and get corn dogs?”

It was about that time, he supposed. Henry, however, hadn’t had a corn dog in God knew how many years, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to break that record just yet. “We definitely should eat. But is a corn dog really what you want? The Cheesecake Factory is right around the corner and—”

Ella scrunched up her pert nose. “It always stinks in there, and it takes forever to get our food. Please, Uncle Henry? I just want a corn dog.” The kid’s voice had taken on a high, whiny tone that was drawing a few heads turned their way.

Benny took the receipt and dropped it in the bag. “Seriously? Are corn dogs beneath Henry Ellison? Ella, for being such a good sport, how about I take you to the food court and buy us each a corn dog while your uncle goes and waits for a table for one at the restaurant.”

“Yes!” the little girl shouted. “And can I have an Orange Julius, too?”

“Don’t push your luck, Ella,” Henry interrupted. “But I can see I’ve been outvoted. To the food court we go.”

Ella apparently knew the way and skipped ahead. Benny followed, dressed in a new pair of jeans and a pretty white blouse with some embroidery along the neckline. He took a moment to appreciate the wider hips and backside she’d been hiding away under bulky cotton fabric before he caught what he was doing and settled on the back of her neck and that darn scruffy ponytail.

Over corn dogs and too-sweet lemonade, Ella chattered away about her excitement at starting school next month and the friend she’d already made. “Will my mom be there my first day?” she asked wistfully and peered up at him.

Benny shot him a curious look but didn’t say anything, just sipped from her straw. “I’m sure she’ll try her hardest.”

“Yeah.” But Ella didn’t sound like she believed it, the sadness almost heartbreaking. He really needed to have a long-overdue talk with his sister. Soon.

“And if for some reason she can’t be, how would you feel if I took you myself?” he offered. “Would that make you feel better?”

She smiled, her baby teeth shining back at him. “Of course, Uncle Henry.”

Ah, she could really tug at his emotions. He glanced up to find Benny still sucking her drink through her straw, but this time her eyes as she looked at him were curious and…almost soft.

Before he said anything else to embarrass himself, he bit into the greasy corn dog, and looked away.

…

Benny had been home about two hours, all her new purchases hung or folded nicely and a glass of wine in hand, when someone knocked on her front door.

She glanced down, realizing that for once, the soft fabric of the jeans hadn’t bothered her enough to require that she tear them off and slide into her usual pajamas or scrubs, and that she was still in them. And presentable.

“Wow. Can’t get enough of me, huh?” she asked when she opened the door to Henry’s handsome face. “I’m kind of too beat to go over the fine art of flirting with you tonight.”

“It’s Ella,” he said, and she instantly dropped the teasing and went on alert. “She was only asleep for maybe an hour and woke up screaming. She wants her mom, and no amount of talking with her has calmed her down.”

“Have you tried calling her mom?” Benny asked, already pulling the door behind her, making sure it was left unlocked, and followed barefoot down the hall.

“No answer,” he said tightly. “Then she wanted you.”

How could Benny’s heart not twinge just a little at that?

They entered his place, and the first thing she noticed was the soft lighting and Dean Martin playing through the speakers. Then she heard the faint sound of crying. Henry led the way, and she realized as they passed his decked-out kitchen—and she’d thought hers was nice—and two closed bedroom doors that his place was much bigger than she’d thought. Enormous, actually, compared to her one bedroom. Which wasn’t surprising if she considered the fact that other than hers, there were no other units on this end of the tenth floor. His took up almost half the floor.