“I do love sweet peas,” Laurel confirmed, then reached up to touch the sparkles in her hair. “I love the combs, Parker. It’s just exactly the sort of thing I was trying to visualize. Oh, the dress. The dress. It’s just a little bit thirties. Classic but not traditional. It’s my wedding dress.”

“All of you together now,” Mrs. Grady ordered, “before you get too sloppy on joy and champagne.There’s my girls,” she murmured as they lined up for the photo.

MAC SCANNED PARKER’S ENORMOUS AND TERRIFYINGLY ORGANIZED closet. “Maybe if I had a closet this size, I could keep it all neat and organized.”

Parker rejected a red shirt and moved on. “No, you couldn’t.”

“That’s cold.True, but cold.”

“If you kept your closet organized, you wouldn’t be able to buy another white shirt just because it’s cute, because you’d be perfectly aware you already have a dozen white shirts.”

“Also true, but there’s something to be said about knowing where your red patent leather belt is when you absolutely need your red patent leather belt.” Mac opened a drawer in one of the many built-in cabinets that held Parker’s collection of belts, neatly coiled in color groups.

“Since you know where everything is, and keep a detailed list on your computer of the entire contents and their specific location, why is it taking you so long to pick something out?”

“Because I don’t know where we’re going or how we’re getting there.” Frustration shimmied in her voice as she rejected another shirt.“And because it’s important I don’t make it look important.”

Understanding perfectly, Mac nodded. “Cashmere sweater, strong color.Vee or scoop with a white cami, black or gray pants. Heeled booties, color depending on the color of the sweater. It’s going to be cool tonight, so wear that excellent leather topper, the one that hits about midthigh and has the swoosh when you walk.”

Parker turned to her friend. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Image is my business. Wear some great earrings, and leave your hair down.”

“Down?”

“It’s sexier down, less studied. Go for some smoke on the eyes and pale lips. I don’t have to add, wear excellent underwear just in case, because you only have excellent underwear. I’m often struck with underwear envy.”

Parker considered Mac’s overall vision. “I haven’t decided if Malcolm’s going to get a chance to see my underwear.”

“Yes, you have.”

“I haven’t decided if he’s going to get a chance to see it tonight.”

“That just makes it sexier.”

“It just makes me more nervous, and I don’t like being nervous.” She opened another drawer. Shook her head, opened another. “This? Good strong plum color, V-neck, but with the mandarin collar, there’s a little interest.”

“Excellent. If you have a softer plum-tone cami, and you will, go for that instead of white. And the gray pants, stone, straight leg. Then . . .” She crossed to the wall of shoes, ordered by type, subcategorized by color. “Then you’ve got these truly delicious heather booties in suede with this great tapered heel. The colors and fabrics are all soft and rich, but the combination’s got a casual yet put-together Parker feel.”

“It’s good.”

“Oh, and wear those big hammered-silver hoops. You hardly ever wear them, and they’ll rock this outfit.”

“They’re so big.”

Mac pointed a finger. “Trust me.”

“Why do we go to all this trouble?” Parker asked. “Men don’t notice anyway.”

“Because what we wear affects how we feel, how we act, how we move. And that they do notice. Especially the move. Get dressed, smoke the eyes.You’ll know you look good so you’ll feel good.You’ll have a better time.”

“I’d have a better time if I knew what to expect.”

“Parker?” Mac skimmed a hand down Parker’s ponytail as their eyes met in the mirror. “Most of the guys you go out with, you know what to expect from minute one.They don’t make you nervous. I haven’t known you to get beyond a solid like or maybe a nice, safe care about since college.”

“Justin Blake.” Parker smiled a little. “I really thought I was in love with him then . . .”

“The world caved in,” Mac said, thinking of when the Browns had died.“He wasn’t really there for you, didn’t have it in him to be.”

“And that was that.”

“That stayed that, too. I really think Mal’s the first risk you’ve taken with a guy since Justin Selfish Asshole Blake.”

“And that turned out so well.”

Mac turned, laid her hands on Parker’s shoulders. “I love you, Parks.Take a chance.”

“I love you, too.” Parker let out a breath. “I’ll wear the big silver hoops.”

“You won’t be sorry. I have to get going. Have fun tonight.”

Of course she’d have fun. Why wouldn’t she? Parker thought as she swung on the leather topper Mac had correctly recommended.

She knew how to have fun.

She wasn’t all business all the time, as most, if not all, of her clients could attest. And all right, maybe having fun with clients was business, but it didn’t negate the fun factor.

She knew she was overthinking the entire thing, which meant she started overthinking the overthinking until she wanted to smack herself.

Nothing relieved her more than the ring of the front door. At least now she could get started on whatever she was doing for the evening.

“Casual,” she said to herself as she walked to the door. “Easy. No stress, no pressure.”

When she opened the door, he stood there, leather jacket over an untucked shirt the blue of faded jeans, thumbs tucked in the pockets of dark pants.

Casual, she thought again. He certainly knew how to be.

“You look good.”

She started to step out. “Thanks.”

“Really good.” He didn’t move out of her way, but into her. A smooth move, she’d think later, that put his hands in her hair and his mouth on hers.

“You didn’t say where we were going,” she managed. “Or how . . .”