Small-Town Billionaire. Renee Andrews

countless photos of celebrities wearing clothes that were apparently available in this store.

      “Maribeth has talent, doesn’t she? To take an idea—for all women to be able to dress like celebrities—and then create a store to implement that idea?” Dana grinned at Ryan.

      “She owns this place?” he asked, awestruck with the exceptional concept—a consignment store that recreated red-carpet looks.

      Dana nodded as she moved to a bright yellow sundress and read the ribbon-embellished note. “Scarlett Johansson. I think I remember seeing her wear this.” She scanned the pictures on the celebrity wall. “Yes, there she is. Do you think John would like this on me?” She checked the tag. “The size is right.”

      “Ingenious,” Ryan said, marveling at the brilliant idea.

      His sister held the dress against herself and viewed herself in a nearby elongated mirror. “I know. It’s like having a personal stylist, but without the effort, or the price tag. Maribeth does all of the work, and it’s a win-win. The folks bringing in items for consignment are happy because they sell more, and the ones buying the outfits are happy, too, because they can dress like the stars for a price that fits their budget. And her place is so popular that women drive all the way from Birmingham to get the look of a star for a price they can afford.” She draped the yellow dress over her arm and grabbed the accompanying red jewelry. “Pretty incredible idea, don’t you think?”

      Ryan nodded and wondered if the woman realized the potential of her idea. She was sitting on a gold mine.

      “We should probably go tell her we’re here,” Dana said, pointing toward Maribeth, who swayed as she held coral jewelry against a royal blue dress. She’d tacked a photo to the wall nearby and checked the dress against the picture, a photograph from the newest issue of People magazine that featured Pippa Middleton wearing a similar dress and jewels.

      Maribeth wore a sleeveless black dress with a thin red belt and sky-high red heels. An assembly of gold bangles traveled up and down her delicate arms as she attached the necklace to the blue dress and then reached for the earrings. Her voice blended with the music, this song about blessings, and when Dana tapped her shoulder, she jumped, let out a high-pitched yelp and tossed one of the earrings in the air.

      “Oh, my,” she said, gasping. Red-tipped fingers fluttered beneath her slender throat. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She laughed, leaned down and scooped up the discarded earring, then seemed to notice Dana wasn’t alone. “Oh, hello.”

      Ryan didn’t miss the change in her tone, as though she weren’t quite happy with his arrival in her store. Then again, this wasn’t a store for guys. “Hello,” Ryan said. He’d decided to maintain his distance from the woman, but her fascinating concept captivated him. He wanted to know more. “You put all of these outfits together, based on what celebrities wear?”

      She’d seemed cool at first, but her face lit up with the question. “And based on what customers turn in for consignment, of course. Do you...” She paused. “Well, what do you think of the store?”

      “It’s brilliant,” he said honestly. He saw Dana’s broad grin from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care. It was brilliant, and the lady deserved to know. This was the type of thing that stood out—a great idea, innovative concept. This was the kind of thing that put your name on the books. “Have you thought about taking the idea bigger, beyond a single store? This is the only one so far, I take it?”

      “Yes, it is,” she said, the coolness returning to her tone, “and no, I don’t want to go bigger.” Then she dismissed the conversation with a pivot toward Dana. “That yellow dress will look gorgeous on you. Did you see the shoes that go with it? They’re a size six. Isn’t that your size?”

      “It is,” Dana said, “and I didn’t see the shoes. I’ll want them, too, I’m sure. But I don’t know how much wear I’ll get out of the dress.” She placed a hand on her stomach. “Should be showing in the next month or so, I think.”

      Maribeth placed her hands together beneath her chin. “Well, you can wear it up until then, and it’ll be perfect next summer after the baby’s born.”

      Dana grinned. “I like the way you think. So, where are those shoes?”

      “They’re on top of the clothing rack,” Maribeth said, stepping around Ryan to retrieve the red pumps and then showing them to Dana while still keeping her back to him. “What do you think?”

      “I’ll take them,” Dana said. “But my main reason for coming to the store today wasn’t to shop. I got those craft supplies for you from the church and thought I’d drop them off so you’d have them for tomorrow.” She handed the plastic bag of supplies to Maribeth.

      “You could’ve waited and given them to me in the morning.” Maribeth continued to look directly at Dana as she spoke, as though Ryan wasn’t even in the store. What was it about this woman and ignoring him?

      Ryan continued to scan the store, the layout, the concept. Brilliant, his mind continued to whisper. His skin bristled with excitement, with the endless possibilities. This...was exactly what he needed.

      Dana shrugged. “Ryan has only left the ranch to go to rehab, and I thought he’d like to see the square since he hasn’t been here before.” She shifted the dress to her other arm and ran her fingers across the fabric.

      “Okay.” Maribeth looked skeptical, and Ryan also thought Dana seemed to be stretching her reasoning to the limit. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she brought him to this specific store to watch her friend give him the cold shoulder again. Or maybe because she’d detected the unwanted attraction that he felt toward Maribeth.

      From the gleam in Dana’s eyes, he’d hit the mark.

      That attraction could get Ryan in trouble. The situation, the feeling he got when he was around her, the fact that she didn’t seem to care whether he noticed her or not...were all so similar to the way his relationship had started with Nannette.

      But Ryan was going to have to control the attraction this time, because he couldn’t ignore a concept that might very well provide his means of putting his own stamp on Brooks International. A consignment store that specialized in making the less fortunate feel and look rich. This was the kind of thing that made a difference and exactly what Ryan had been looking for.

      Maribeth and Dana chatted about the upcoming camp activities, and Ryan noticed the dark-haired beauty didn’t even glance his way as she spoke.

      “The kids are going to love this,” she said, squaring her shoulders so that she clearly blocked Ryan from the conversation. He couldn’t recall whether he’d ever been so thoroughly ignored.

      Dana continued speaking, but lifted a brow and fought a grin. “I think so, too.”

      Ryan was used to people hanging on his every word, which was probably why her disregard hit him like a slap in the face. And made him even more determined. He’d had enough. One way or another, the lady was going to pay attention to him. He didn’t pull off running an international business by not knowing how to get people to pay attention. He simply had to say something she couldn’t ignore. Undoubtedly she didn’t like the idea of growing her business, which baffled Ryan. Why wouldn’t anyone want to take what they had and make it better? Bigger? More profitable? He’d find out, but first he had to get her to speak—period. And he’d already established her primary interest, so he capitalized on that knowledge.

      “So, Maribeth, whose outfit are you wearing today?” he asked, causing the two women to stop talking and look his way.

      Unable to ignore a question directed specifically to her, she turned, lifted an arched brow and asked, “Whose outfit?”

      For a moment, he forgot his own question. When she looked at him directly, Ryan found himself lost in the appreciation of eyes that looked like melted chocolate, dark hair pulled up on the sides yet still reaching her waist and a mouth that made him wonder whether her lips were as soft as they