Season of Change(45)

                She pointed at the pink shag carpet. “You sit on the floor.”

                He did. But he was grinning.

                And when she was sure he couldn’t see her, so was she.

                * * *

                AFTER SEVERAL DRESS CHANGES, Slade was feeling decidedly uncomfortable on Christine’s bedroom floor, leaning against her bed, at her feet, which were bare, the toes painted an energetic orange. They had a business relationship, nothing more. It was time to get down to business.

                And so they discussed projected timelines and her preferred equipment manufacturers. They discussed in depth her favorite methods of harvesting and wine making. He shared the partnership’s views on the winery stimulating town growth. Interspersed between were oohs and aahs for the girls. It was hard to believe that one woman had that many evening gowns. Short ones, long ones, fitted ones, ones with slits and lace and shimmery trim.

                Although he enjoyed seeing his daughters dress up, he couldn’t help imagining what Christine would look like in each evening gown, until Grace came out in a black dress with a long feathered skirt. “Whoa. You did not wear that thing?” Slade glanced up at Christine. “It has feathers.”

                Christine stared down her elegant nose at him. “Feathers were in that year.”

                Slade chuckled. “Grace, you look beautiful, honey, but I can’t see how that dress would look good on a full-grown woman.” He pointed at the dress. “I mean...feathers!”

                “I’m reminding myself you’re my boss,” Christine said through gritted teeth.

                Grace exchanged a look with Faith, who was wearing a white beaded gown with flowing long sleeves. Both girls looked at Christine and nodded.

                “Excuse me a minute, boss.” Christine followed them into the bathroom.

                Great. Add Christine to the growing list of people who understood his daughters’ silent language.

                Slade got up stiffly, stretched out the kinks, and sat on the bed. It was softly inviting. With effort, he kept from flopping onto his back and sneaking a power nap.

                A few minutes later the girls came out dressed in their pink checks and overalls shorts. Their hair was still prom-queen grand. They bounced onto the bed next to him. Grace leaned on his shoulder.

                He didn’t dare move.

                And then Christine stepped out of the bathroom in the black feathered gown. It fit her tight across the chest, with just a hint of cleavage, enough to catch a man’s eye.

                This man’s eye.

                She’d piled her hair above her head in a messy style that begged a man’s hand to smooth it. And then she strode across the hall, revealing the dangerously high slit that exposed most of her leg with every step. A leg that ended in a bright red pump.

                Slade’s mouth went dry as his eyes traveled back up to her face.

                Christine wouldn’t release his gaze. Here was the classy, confident woman he’d interviewed. The woman who knew the power of her appearance and wasn’t afraid to use it. Not that she had to wield her womanly power, given she was rocket-scientist smart when it came to her craft.

                Faith and Grace leaned over to look at him. And giggled.

                Christine burst out laughing. “That’ll teach you to make fun of a woman’s feathers.”