The Bachelor's Cinderella: The Frenchman's Plain-Jane Project

Okay, that was a subject she was not going to discuss. Doing so would only make her look as if she felt sorry for herself, and she refused to be that kind of whining woman. “No. Not at all,” she said brightly.

He smiled, and she knew that he probably suspected she was lying. “Good, because you should be proud of your looks. You have…”

He was hesitating. In her Meg plow-ahead way, she wanted to help, but discussing her physical attributes was virgin territory for her and also incredibly dangerous to her peace of mind, she thought, remembering that curving-his-hands-near-her-body exploration that had made her ache and want to squirm closer. “Etienne, I’m not some fragile flower.You don’t have to be so careful with me. I’m comfortable with who I am and I want you to know that I can do a pretty decent job of camouflaging this scar with makeup when I take the time to do that if it will help my image,” she offered, gesturing toward her mouth.

“Yes. I noticed that enchanting scar, Meg,” he said. And somehow the way he said it, he made it sound as if every woman on earth should only wish they had such a scar. “How did you get it?”

But that was another topic she didn’t care to discuss in great depth. “It was just a little fall. Not a big deal,” she said, though of course it had felt like a very big deal when she was growing up. Her mother had constantly urged her to cover it up and had bemoaned the fact that Meg would never be half as beautiful as her sister, Ann. Ann being the grown daughter Leslie Leighton and her husband had actually planned and wanted and cherished, not the daughter who had been a major mistake, who had come along late in their lives and who had trapped them into staying in a marriage they wanted to rid themselves of. “And anyway, it happened so long ago that the details no longer matter.”

And with this gorgeous, exotic, successful man gazing at her face as if he would like to touch her, Meg couldn’t stay focused on the details, anyway.

She struggled to clear her head and concentrate on what they had been talking about before this disconcerting discussion of her scar began. “Since you’re new to the area, you probably don’t know any shops we can go to, so I’ll help,” she said and she offered up a few of the ones she frequented: inexpensive little out-of-the-way shops.

“I was thinking more…classic with maybe a hint of sass thrown in.” He rattled off the names of several upscale stores and boutiques in the area.

Meg raised her brows in astonishment. “You live in Paris. So, how do you know these things? Where women buy their clothes and what the best places are?” she asked.

“It’s part of the job.”

“You dress women often?”

“Sometimes out-of-town clients have emergencies. It’s a good rule of thumb, wherever you are, to always know a few good restaurants, a few good theaters and places where both women and men can pick up emergency supplies. It shows your clients that you’re prepared to go the extra mile to help them. Presentation is important.”

“I’ll remember that, but…”

He waited.

“I can’t afford to shop at those places.”

“Yes, you can. I’m paying you very well.” He threw out a figure that made Meg’s breath catch in her throat.

“That’s far too much. I assumed you were going to pay me what Alan’s former assistant was making, or at least something in the ballpark.”

He smiled. Okay, she was being pushy and outspoken again, but still…

“It’s not too much,” he said. “And you’re going to earn every penny. You’re now Fieldman’s. When people see Fieldman’s Furnishings, what they’re really going to see is Meg Leighton. Here and abroad.”

Her courage nearly faltered at that. Having people staring at her had always been difficult. But she had asked for his help and he was going to help her. She had agreed to be the spokesperson only hours ago. She couldn’t turn craven on him now. “And as the actual owner of Fieldman’s, you’ll be in the spotlight, too.”

“Yes, but I’m used to it. I’ve lived in that kind of spotlight all my life. You haven’t. That means you need ways to conquer stage fright, should it rear its ugly head. You need the right clothes and you need to be able to make an instant impression. Consider it part of your job description.”

“All right. But when I said that I wanted you to help me be a success, I wasn’t even thinking that you would clothe me.”

“What were you thinking I would do?”

“Teach me.”

“I will.”

“Guide me,” she said, her voice coming out a little whispery and very unlike herself.

“I promise I’ll do that and more.”

Meg didn’t even want to try to imagine what the and more part meant. Instead she followed Etienne out into the sunlight, into his sleek, expensive car and, eventually, into a very expensive boutique that she had only ever seen from the outside.

“We need a wardrobe,” he told the woman. “Only items that complement Meg’s complexion and her figure. Nothing gaudy, but…think…”

He studied Meg. “Nothing drab, either. Meg likes bright colors.”

“How do you know that?” Meg asked.

“I peeked in your doorway while we were talking yesterday. Your living room is quite out of the ordinary.”

She laughed. “You’re being quite polite by describing it that way. Even Edie tells me I went too far with the aqua and tangerine and yellow.”

“Maybe, but it suits you. And all those colors complement your eyes.”

“My eyes are plain brown.”

He did that wicked eyebrow raising thing again. “You, mademoiselle, don’t even know what color your eyes are. There’s nothing plain about them.”

While he was talking he was looking into her eyes just as if they were alone. But they weren’t, and Meg felt suddenly self-conscious. The saleswoman probably thought that Meg was paying Etienne for his services or something. He could certainly spend his time with someone totally beautiful if he wanted to.

“Okay, my eyes are gorgeous,” she lied. “What should I buy?”

“This,” he said, pointing out a stunning camel colored suit and adding a melon silk blouse. “For starters.”

And he meant what he said. For the next hour, Meg tried on outfit after outfit. Etienne nixed many of them. “That doesn’t do justice to her legs,” he’d say, just as if Meg’s legs had ever been the kind of thing anyone admired. And yet…in the camel suit or in the knee skimming navy sheath with subtle red trim, wearing red pumps that were slightly higher than she was used to, her legs did look different. Thinner.

“You have an eye,” the saleswoman said to Etienne, and Meg knew that the woman was wishing that she was the woman Etienne was with.

It’s just business, Meg wanted to tell her. We’re not romantic people. We’re just on this outing as part of the deal we made and because we need to make an impression at the expo. Still, the woman was right. Etienne had obviously dressed many women before, and those women had undoubtedly had more polish than the average female. It was a good thing to keep in mind. Even if he had the time and inclination to get involved with someone during his stay in Chicago, he was not for someone like Meg Leighton.

“Not this,” Meg said when Etienne handed her a slender black strapless dress. “I’m all about business. I won’t need anything this formal.”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “There will be at least one event either here or in Paris where you’ll need this. I’m sure of it.”

Suddenly fear took hold of her. What was she doing? She, plain, always awkward Meg Leighton, the girl whose mother had accidentally scarred her, then reminded Meg again and again over the years that she would never go far if she didn’t cover up her deformity, lose weight, stand up taller, remake herself into a completely different person, was here trying on a cocktail dress just as if she was actually going to wear it.

She frowned and started to put it back.

Etienne gave the saleswoman a look, sending her scurrying away. He placed a hand on Meg’s arm, and sensation jolted through her. Heat suffused her body.

“Please, Meg, do this,” Etienne said, leaning closer to her so that she nearly had to close her eyes from the sheer sensation of feeling the warmth of his body. “You need to do this. Alan was an idiot.”

Her eyes flew open at that. “What?”

“Don’t you think that I know that that…that fool sapped your confidence in yourself when he let you go?”