Inspecting her thoroughly, he let his gaze linger down her lush form. Hot. Damn. Although she was dressed in black from head to toe, nothing could hide the flare of those hips from her pinched waist. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she wore a corset. That’s how dramatic her curves were, from her heavy t**s to the tuck of her waist and back out to her spectacular hips. She was like a 1940s pinup girl. His favorite type. Tilted at a cocky angle was that saucy pincushion hat with the tiny black veil. She looked like she was going to a funeral, which he supposed was the case in her mind.
A stylist. Made total sense from the way she was dressed. He could respect that. His father hired one for him in the past, during one of his re-election campaigns where if a man forgot to wear a flag pin
