“Um, I wasn’t planning on it.” She yanked the first one off the hanger and pulled it on, struggling in the taffeta for a few moments before realizing she had it on backwards. She righted the dress, then reached behind her to do up the zipper.

Crap! She couldn’t reach. Since when had her arms gotten too short to do up a damn zipper? She wriggled and stretched, wishing like hell she’d made a better effort to do Pilates more regularly. She just didn’t have time and—

“Need help with any zippers?”

“Dammit, are you spying on me?”

His laugh bounced through the small dressing room space, and Allie felt her cheeks grow hot. “It’s a solid door, Allie. Floor to ceiling, and no keyhole. No, I’m not spying on you. Paranoid much?”

She tossed her hair, not sure whether to be more flustered with herself or with him.

“Fine,” she said, yanking open the door. “I could use help with the zipper.”

“Funny, I didn’t hear a please in there.”

“Please.” Allie sighed and turned to present her back to him. He was silent a moment, and she glanced in the mirror to see his eyes cast downward toward her ass. Embarrassment bubbled in her gut, but she tried to cover. “Yes, I’m wearing granny panties, okay? Sue me. I haven’t had time to do laundry all week and—”

“I wasn’t judging your underwear, Allie. Just admiring the tattoo.”

“Oh.”

“When did you get it?”

She bit her lip. “A year after college.”

His fingers grazed the small of her back, and for an instant, she thought he was touching the tip of one of the small, orange flames. Then she realized he was reaching for the zipper. He dragged it slowly up her spine, and Allie focused hard on keeping her stomach pulled in, wondering if her muffin top was showing over the top of her awful gray panties.

“It’s very nice. The tattoo, I mean.”

“Thank you.” His hand was still on the zipper, even though she was pretty sure he had it all the way up. The heat of his hand made her shiver.

“What does it mean?”

“The tattoo?” She shrugged, trying to look casual as she smoothed down the front of the dress in the mirror in front of her. She didn’t look up, not wanting to see Jack’s eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything. Just a pretty, fiery design, that’s all.”

“I know you, Allie.” His voice was low in her ear, so close she could feel his breath ruffling her hair. She let her gaze stray up, and she locked eyes with him in the mirror. “You wouldn’t permanently ink something on your body if it didn’t have meaning.”

She stood frozen with her gaze locked on his, not daring to speak. Desperate to break the spell, she turned to face him with an expression she made as blank as possible. “Maybe I would get a meaningless tattoo. You knew the nineteen-year-old version of Allie, not the twenty-three-year-old one I was when I got the ink.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Or the thirty-six-year-old one, apparently.” He studied her for a long while, gaze locked with hers, and Allie found she couldn’t look away.

She nodded. “A lot’s changed.”

“That it has.” He was standing close, too close. He was practically touching her. She wanted him to touch her. Just a tiny step forward and—

“Oh, wow! That’s super pretty!”

Allie blinked and took a step back as Paige peered out from under her father’s arm. She smiled up at Allie and reached out to touch the hem of the dress. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” It occurred to Allie that she’d barely looked in the mirror yet, so she turned to study herself in the full-length one behind her. Not bad. Not bad at all. A little snug around the chest, but it was probably supposed to be. There was a little armpit fat poking out at the top, but the hemline made her legs look good, and fluttered nicely when she turned back to face Jack and Paige.

“Looks like you got lucky on the first try.”

Allie shifted from one foot to the other, not trusting herself to meet his eyes again. “Looks like it.”

“Who was your first boyfriend that you loved?”

Allie blinked and looked at Paige. “Wow. That’s kind of random.”

Jack laughed and ruffled his daughter’s hair. “Not totally. We were just talking about it at the barbershop. We were also talking about how some things are personal and not appropriate questions to ask, weren’t we?”

Paige gave a solemn nod and looked up at Allie. “That’s true.”

Jack gave Allie his slow, lazy smile, holding her gaze for a few beats too many before turning back to his daughter. “Did you need something, kiddo?”

Allie said a silent prayer of thanks that Jack had a talent for distracting his daughter. The girl nodded and held up an armful of clothing. “I wanted to try these on.”

“Looks like someone’s in the room next door,” Jack said. “You’ll have to wait your turn.”

Allie reached behind her neck, fumbling for the zipper. “Hang on, you can have this one. I don’t need to try on the rest of these. I know what I want.” Her fingers gripped the zipper and her shoulder creaked as she tried to pull down. “Just let me get out of—”

“Allow me.” Jack grabbed her by the waist to hold her still, then tugged the zipper down with a bit less finesse than he’d used to slide it up. He stopped just above the small of her back, and Allie wondered if he was preserving her modesty or trying to keep his daughter from seeing the tattoo.

But the kid clearly had eagle eyes. “Is that fire on your back?”

Allie turned around, holding the back of the dress together with one hand as she stole a look at Jack. Discomfort was etched on his face, but he wasn’t meeting her eye. Allie looked at Paige.

“Yes, but I didn’t get it until I was a grown-up,” she said. “The decision to get a tattoo is a big one, so it’s not something you even want to start thinking about until—”

“It looks just like one my dad has.”

“What?”

Paige nodded and pointed to her father’s ribcage. “Right there. Beside his tummy. He has fire, too, only his has—”

“Why don’t we let Allie finish getting dressed?”

Paige looked up at her dad and shrugged. “Okay.”

***