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“What are you going to do?”
There was only one thing she could do. “I’m going to call Parker and tell him I can’t make it.”
“The hell you are.”
“You have a better suggestion?” Because Lord knew she didn’t.
“I hate to say this, but…” he sighed as if his words pained him, “…we have to call MeShell.”
“Why?”
“Because he can help.”
“I don’t think his magical fairy powers can help now.” She hiccupped and wiped at her nose. “But if you just feel the need to see your man, don’t let me stand in your way.”
“Okay, first of all, shut up.” He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Secondly, you’re in need of a ball gown. Who else is going to have a fabulous dress just lying around?”
He had a point. “Do you think she’ll have something we can use?”
“More than sure.” Standing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
“I’ll call him.”
Even as depressed as she was, she couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by. Clearing her throat, she fought hard to keep her smile at bay. “You have his number memorized.”
“No.” He glanced away, embarrassment staining his cheeks. “It’s programmed in there.”
“Uh huh.”
“He did it. To annoy me.”
“Right. And I guess you just never took the time to delete it.”
Miller’s brow rose. “Do you want my help or what?”
“I do.” She stood, resolve in place. If she had to go to the ball in a dress made by mice she was going. “You make your phone call. And I’ll make mine.”
“Who are you calling?”
“My father.”
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By the time she finished her phone call with her father she was feeling marginally better. Nothing could ever replace her mother’s dress, but something was being done to repair the wrong that was committed. Her father’s voice broke when she told him what happened and by the time she explained everything he’d grown eerily quiet. He calmly told her to have a great time and not to worry, he was going to clean house. Somehow she seriously doubted he was talking about vacuuming and dusting.
“We better go if you’re going to make your flight.”
“What about—?”
Miller took her suitcase in one hand, grabbed her with the other and pulled her towards the front door. “MeShell is going to meet us in the parking lot.”
When they pulled into the parking lot of the private airstrip, MeShell’s car was already there. Miller parked next to the other man’s vehicle and turned off the engine. By the time they stepped out of the car, MeShell was waiting for them next to his trunk. But not the MeShell Cyn was used to seeing.
Instead of the normally glamorous cross-dresser she was familiar with, MeShell was sans makeup and wig and dressed in a black suit. Despite how rude she knew it was, Cyn couldn’t help but stare. He was an ugly woman all right, but he was a very handsome man. “Wow.”
She wasn’t the only person who was flabbergasted. Miller’s mouth was practically hitting the floor, much to MeShell’s obvious delight. “What?” he asked, unable to keep his grin at bay.
“You’re not wearing…” She paused, unsure of how to continue without hurting his feelings. “You’re wearing a suit.”
“I do have a day job, you know.”
It was sad to say, but despite knowing MeShell for over three years she had no idea what he did when he wasn’t in drag. Of course he had a job. She just didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was. “Doing what?”
“Shelton Hughes at your service, commodity trader extraordinaire.”
“Shel…Shelton,” Miller stuttered. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”
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MeShell grimaced and glanced at Cyn. “Painful isn’t it?”
She didn’t want to be mean but she wasn’t going to lie. “Just a bit.”
“I think it’s hilarious.” Miller snickered. “Shelton the day trader. What a riot.”
“You know what’s really funny. I’m not only prettier than you. I make more money.”
That wiped the smile right off of Miller’s face. “You can take the bitch out of the ball gown but you can’t take—”
“Miller,” Cyn snapped. “MeShell is here to do me a favor or did you forget.”
“You can call me Shelton. MeShell just doesn’t work without the wig.”
“Okay.” That was going to take some getting used to. “Sorry about him. He’s in a mood.”
“Please, doll, I’m not even thinking of little blue boy over there. I came here to help you.”
“And I really appreciate it.”
“That’s what friends are for. I picked out three of my fiercest numbers.”
“You’re too good to me.”
“Yes, too good,” Miller spoke up. His I-could-care-less persona was in place and at full blast. Cyn wanted to hit him. It was more than obvious there was something between him and MeShell…Shelton but Miller was too stubborn to admit it. “So are you going let us see them?”
“When we’re in the air.”
Miller glanced from Shelton to her. “The air?”
“Yes, we’re going with her.”
“You are?” Now she was confused.
“Yes. I have to make sure it fits.” Shelton turned and unlocked his luggage-filled trunk. “I packed a few accessories and my sewing kit. I’m going to have to take one of the dresses in, but I can do that as you get ready.”
“Don’t you think you should have asked?” Miller inquired.
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“No.” Shelton turned to Miller and cocked a brow. “Because it wasn’t an option. If she wants to look good we’re going to have to go.”
“Why we?” Miller crossed his arms over his chest in an obvious sign of stubbornness.
“Because you’re going too.”
“Says who?” His eyebrows skyrocketed to the tip of his hairline.
“Me.” Shelton could be just as stubborn it seemed.
Cyn felt as if she was watching a tennis match and she knew without a doubt who she was rooting for. “Shelton’s right.”
“Thank you.”
“He is?” Miller turned and stared at her in abject disbelief.
“Yes. He’ll have to fix anything he loans me and we don’t have the time to do it here. Looks as if we’re going
