Chapter 270
**Sara**
I glanced out the window as Tom pulled into a parking spot, my eyes widening at the array of high-end storefronts stretching down the street. The setting sun cast long shadows between buildings filled with designer labels I usually only window-shopped.
"Ready?" Tom killed the engine and flashed that smile that still made my stomach flutter.
"I don't know about this..." I fiddled with my seatbelt. "These stores are..."
"Perfect for finding you some new clothes." He was already out and opening my door before I could protest further.
The first boutique we entered had mannequins wearing outfits that probably cost- I shook my head, trying not to think about prices. Tom's hand found the small of my back, guiding me toward a rack of blazers.
"This would look amazing on you." He pulled out a cream-colored jacket.
"Tom!" I hissed, checking the price tag and nearly choking. "That's insane."
"Try it on." He held it open for me.
"I can't let you spend that much." I backed away, bumping into a display of silk blouses.
"Why not?" His fingers traced along my arm. "I want to spoil you a little."
"A little?" I gestured at the jacket. "That's not a little."
"Are you really arguing with me about buying you nice things?" He stepped closer, his low voice sending shivers down my spine. "Because I can think of much better ways to spend our time arguing."
"Don't try to distract me with that voice." Though it was working embarrassingly well. "These prices are ridiculous."
"The only thing ridiculous is how stubborn you're being." His lips brushed my ear. "Let me do this for you."
I tried to maintain my resolve, but my resistance was crumbling fast between his proximity and his thumb tracing circles on my hip.
"Fine." I grabbed the blazer. "But I'm trying it on first."
"That's my girl." He grinned, already reaching for more items.
"Don't push your luck." I narrowed my eyes at him, but he just smirked and kept piling clothes over his arm.
The fitting room was a mirrored palace of disappointment. The cream blazer hung like a sack, making me look like I'd raided my mother's closet. A navy pencil skirt twisted awkwardly around my hips.
"How's it going in there?" Tom's voice carried over the door.
"These clothes hate me." I wrestled with a silk blouse that refused to button properly across my chest. "Either I've suddenly grown extra limbs, or these sizes are lying."
"Let me see."
"Not a chance." I squirmed out of the blouse before it could strangle me. "I look like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's wardrobe."
Tom's chuckle only fueled my frustration. "There are other stores."
"Thank god." I changed back into my clothes, shoving the rejects onto the return rack. "Because nothing says 'professional' like looking like a kid wearing their parent's clothes."
Outside, the evening air cooled my fitting room flush. Tom's hand found mine as we walked to the next boutique, this one with windows full of sleek, modern pieces.
"Now this..." I ran my fingers over a midnight blue dress. "This I could work with."
"Take whatever catches your eye."
The fitting room in this store was smaller but better-lit. I slipped into the dress, the fabric hugging my curves instead of fighting them. When I stepped out to check the full-length mirror, Tom's sharp intake of breath made me spin around.
"That's..." His eyes traveled slowly up my body. "Perfect."
Heat crept up my neck at his obvious appreciation. "You think?"
He stepped closer, fingers trailing along the dress's neckline. "I think we should get you out of here before I forget we're in public."
"Tom!" I swatted his hand away. "This is supposed to be about work clothes."
"That's definitely not what I'm thinking about right now."
"Behave." I ducked back into the fitting room, my skin tingling where he'd touched me. "There's still more to try on."
A charcoal pantsuit fit like it was tailored for me. Three silk blouses actually buttoned without gaps. A black pencil skirt hugged instead of twisted.
"Much better than the last place," I called out, smoothing down a burgundy wrap dress.
"Agreed. Though I'm particularly fond of that blue one."
"Of course you are." I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see me. "Because it's the least office-appropriate."
"I don't recall 'office-appropriate' being a requirement."
"It was implied in 'work clothes.'" I stepped out in the final outfit - a fitted black blazer over a cream shell. "This is more what I had in mind."
Tom's eyes darkened as he moved toward me. "You look gorgeous in everything you've tried on."
I felt my cheeks flush at his compliment. "You're just saying that because you want to buy everything."
"Is it working?" His fingers traced the lapel of the blazer.
"Maybe." I smoothed the fabric, admiring how it fit. "But only the work clothes."
"Let's make a deal." He leaned against the fitting room door frame. "For every work outfit, you pick something fun."
"Tom..."
"Non-negotiable." His grin widened. "Unless you want me to pick for you."
"God, no." I laughed, imagining the scandalous things he'd choose. "Fine. But nothing crazy expensive."
Two hours and several stores later, my arms ached from carrying bags. Somehow Tom had convinced me to get not just suits and blouses, but cocktail dresses, casual wear, and even a few pieces of lingerie that made me blush just thinking about.
"One last stop." Tom steered me toward a boutique with dark windows and elegant displays.
"I think we've done enough damage to your credit card."
"Trust me." He opened the door, revealing racks of designer evening wear.
My protests died as he pulled out a black dress that looked more like a weapon of mass destruction than clothing. The neckline plunged dangerously low, while a thigh-high slit promised to make walking a risky endeavor.
"Absolutely not." I crossed my arms.
"Just try it on." He pressed the hanger into my hands. "For me."
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