“He said, ‘the sky’s the limit,’” Tracy reported, her face set in a grave expression. “We took him very, very seriously.” She pointed to a box on the floor.

Sam screamed. “Manolos!” Tearing into the box, she withdrew delicate heels with beaded crystal accents—a perfect match with the dress.

“A delightful size nine,” Angela said, gazing reverently at the shoes.

“I’m a nine-and-a-half,” Sam reminded her.

“I know, but I’m a nine, and Spencer has this thing coming up at work, so don’t stretch them all out with your big old hoofs, you hear me?”

“I’ll see what I can do. And remind me to execute a warrant next week on your closet. I bet I’ll find my missing Jimmy Choos there.”

“You weren’t using them,” Angela retorted.

Sam sighed, unable to tear her eyes off the shoes. “This is better than sex.”

“You need to have better sex,” Tracy said.

“Not possible,” Sam said. “What’s this all about? I don’t get it.”

“He said to have you ready by seven, and he’ll pick you up,” Angela said.

“Pick me up? He lives here.”

Tracy shrugged. “We’re just doing what we were told. We were giving you five more minutes before we called to order you home.”

“This isn’t my home,” Sam said, looking around wistfully at the bedroom where they’d spent so many blissful nights over the last month. Their near-death adventure in the car crash had driven their passion to all new heights. Sam hadn’t known it was possible to feel so much. What was already amazing had ascended to stupendous lately, but she’d been frustrated—and baffled—by his refusal to let her tell him she was ready to officially move in. Whatever he had planned for tonight, Sam decided, there’d be no nookie until they had that conversation. She wasn’t going to let him pull back from her now. No way. Not after everything they’d been through together.

“What do you suppose she’s thinking about, staring at that big bed?” Angela asked Tracy.

“Her face got kind of red for a minute there,” Tracy replied. “I bet I know what she’s thinking about.”

“All right, you two. That’s enough. You’ve got ninety minutes to fix me up. Let’s get busy.”

Sam stood before the mirror. The dress fit as if it had been cut for her. The shoes, a little tight thanks to Angela’s scheming, wouldn’t cause blisters but even if they did, they were worth it. The girls had corralled her impetuous curls into an elegant French twist and had even given her an emergency manicure and pedicure.

“Oh wow,” Nick said, releasing a low whistle from the doorway.

Sam turned to him.

“Wow,” he whispered.

The sight of him in a tuxedo left her weak in the knees. “Not too shabby yourself, Senator.”