Kira Sinclair - The Devil She Knows

She designed wedding gowns all day, but the prospect of creating her own felt like a dream completely out of reach. The constant barrage of giddy brides searching through their merchandise for that dream dress was getting to her. And if she wasn’t careful, the jaded edge she’d developed was going to morph into complete indifference. When that happened, her ability to create magical, romantic and sexy dresses would dry up.

Part of the reason she kept her business in Sweetheart was because of the atmosphere. The entire town was built around the idea that love and marriage could equal lifelong happiness. And her creative process needed that inspiration. She designed dresses for the most important day in any woman’s life...she had to believe there was more beyond that day, or the creations would just turn into piles of expensive material and beads with no heart.

It had been a long time since she’d felt desired and sensual in her own skin. So tonight she was taking advantage of the disguise to be daring, something she did not do. She was stepping out on a limb, secure in the knowledge that she could keep her little walk on the wild side a secret.

The masks provided anonymity and freedom. To further confuse everyone, she’d designed a dress she’d never, in the light of day, consider wearing. One of her own sexy, slinky creations paired with two arching angel wings she’d hand-stitched and then laced onto the back of the bodice. Stark white feathers rose behind to tower over her by at least a foot. Instead of wedding white, she’d made the dress out of a pale silvery gray.

The tight bodice, flared mermaid skirt, flowing sleeves and naked shoulders showed off more of her body than she was usually comfortable with. Willow had worked hard to build the image of a quiet, accomplished businesswoman. She clung to it, wrapping the familiar shield around her. Flaunting her body went against years of trying to live down the scandal of her sister’s disgrace.

Rose had always worn the smallest, tightest things she could get away with. She’d stayed out all night, drunk excessively and embraced everything their parents had warned her to avoid. Everyone had hoped her older sister would outgrow her penchant for pushing boundaries and making mistakes, especially when she eloped with an older man who had an established, settled life. Perhaps his love would be enough to curb her destructive behavior.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Not only hadn’t he settled her, he’d been betrayed by Rose in the worst way. Then, after the divorce, her sister had headed as far as she could get from Sweetheart, taking the settlement and becoming a showgirl in Sin City. Willow cringed every time she thought of Rose on stage, topless in front of thousands of strangers. But Rose refused to cash the checks Willow sent, insisting she didn’t need the help.

Forcing the unhappy thoughts away, Willow realized maybe it was inevitable that Rose would pop up in her mind tonight. Even as she’d put the dress and mask on, part of her had felt as if she was betraying the reputation she’d fought hard to build.

Needing a break from the blatant sexual come-ons, Willow worked her way into the corner. It was her default position for these types of events. Having the solid support of the wall behind her was comforting and familiar.

She was seriously considering calling it a night when her friend Tatum, the local florist who had designed the amazing red, orange and yellow centerpieces, sidled up beside her.

“Do I want to know what prompted this little outfit?”

Willow cut wary eyes to her friend. If any of their group would understand, it would be Tatum. She was a no-nonsense, make-no-apologies kind of person. Willow admired her for that self-confidence. Tatum didn’t need anyone’s approval.

After spending her entire life worrying what others thought, Willow was envious. But she had no idea how to adopt Tatum’s cavalier attitude. It just wasn’t her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, still uncertain if Tatum knew who she was. She hadn’t told any of her friends what she’d planned to do tonight. She’d been apprehensive about their reactions. She wasn’t interested in being razzed for the decision...or talked out of it.

Tatum’s pale green eyes raked Willow from the tip of her head to the toe of the designer heels peeking out beneath her hem.

“Well, let’s start with the hair. I really hope it’s temporary. While I’m all for taking a risk, you’ve never struck me as a red kinda girl. And the dress. Don’t misunderstand, it’s gorgeous—how could it not be? You designed it—but a little revealing for you, isn’t it?”

Oh, Tatum knew it was her. “Thanks, Mom.”

Her friend chuckled, sipped on the glass of punch she held. “Don’t get me wrong. If you really want to go there, I’ll support you one hundred percent. But as long as I’ve known you, this—” her hand waved up and down to take in Willow’s entire ensemble “—has never been your thing.”

Tatum turned, giving her back to the room and blocking out everyone else. Her stare was serious and sharp. “I’ve had my fair share of one-night-stand regrets. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Willow shook her head. “No one said anything about a one-night stand.”

“Please, honey, that dress screams ‘screw me.’ Right along with the underlying air of innocence that not even your amazing creation can completely cover up. You’re like catnip, and every single man here is sniffing.”

Willow wanted to dismiss her friend’s observation—she wasn’t catnip for anyone—but the barrage of bad lines she’d heard tonight had her swallowing the words.

“Right now, there are at least six men who can’t take their eyes off you.”

“How do you know? Your back is to the room.”

Tatum shrugged. “What do I always do at these things? I’ve been watching. The real question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to stay here in the corner, or are you going to get out there and flirt?” Shifting to stand beside her, Tatum crossed her arms over her chest, leaned against the wall and stared into the pulsing crowd. Tatum hated these things, and still she always came.

“Corner,” Willow answered without a second thought.

“I’m not sure he’s going to be satisfied with that answer.” Without bothering to look, Tatum tipped her head sideways.

Willow followed the gesture, her eyes scanning the crowd for whatever her friend was talking about.

And then she saw him.

Even from behind the barrier of his red-satin devil mask, she could feel the intensity of his stare as it ran slowly over her body. And she reacted. Her body buzzed with the recognition of a virile, interested male.

Through the space and the shield of his mask she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but they were dark. People brushed past him on both sides. The cacophony of voices and music swirled between them. Someone bumped his shoulder. But he didn’t move. None of the chaos touched him.

Willow’s throat went dry. Her pulse fluttered uncomfortably. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

Then he moved. Toward her. Willow reached for Tatum, hoping to use her as a deflection, but her friend had disappeared. Damn her.

Dressed all in black, the only colors he wore were the shocking red mask and a slate-gray tie. Willow recognized expensive material and tailoring when she saw it. His suit hugged him perfectly, highlighting the beautiful body beneath.

Whoever he was, he had money. Not that Willow particularly cared about that.

“Like to dance?” He held out his hand, palm up.

Willow stared at it for several seconds, torn. Slowly, her gaze traveled up his body to his eyes. They were a dark, midnight-blue.