Blame It on the Blackout Read Free Page A

short and her blouses a little low. She’d worn a dozen different perfumes, trying to find one that would pique his interest. She’d worn her hair up and down, short and long, straight, curly, braided…She’d leaned close while they talked and fabricated excuses to interrupt him while he worked.
    Finally, when nothing seemed to catch his attention, she’d given up. A girl could only take so much humiliation, and her breaking point came the day she’d arrived at work to find another woman, half-dressed, leaving Peter’s room. Her theory that he must be gay had been shot all to hell, and she’d vowed then and there never to make another move on him.
    Unfortunately that pledge didn’t keep her eyes from wandering over his well-muscled form, or her heart from skipping a beat when he said her name in that low, reverberating voice of his.
    Not for the first time, she thought about quitting. She really should. She was talented, good at her job, and could probably find another position anywhere in the city within the week.
    But she liked this arrangement. Despite the personal misery she suffered on a daily basis, Peter was a greatemployer. She believed in what he was doing and enjoyed being a part of it.
    Besides, what other boss would spring for a gorgeous new evening gown and accessories that she would probably never have occasion to wear again?
    Lifting items from their bags, she began to peel out of her practical skirt and blouse, ignoring the skittering of awareness that skated down her spine when she realized she was standing half-naked in the middle of Peter’s bedroom. If only he were here with her, and she was stripping down to her skin for something other than an impromptu fashion show.
    Instead of bothering with the fancy undergarments she’d purchased to go with the dress, she remained in her normal bra and panty hose, and simply slipped the gown on overtop. She did trade her plain pumps for the black, glitter-covered velvet stilettos, though.
    Sweeping her hair back off her shoulders, she left the bedroom and crossed the short, carpeted hall to Peter’s office. She stopped in the doorway, leaned casually against the frame and watched his fingers fly over the keyboard.
    â€œSo,” she said, catching his attention. “What do you think?”

Two
    P eter glanced up from the computer screen, wondering why she hadn’t called for him when she was finished. He’d have gone over to the bedroom to see her new dress instead of making her come all the way over here.
    And then his brain stopped functioning altogether. Every thought in his head flew out his ears as he stared at the vision before him.
    He slid the wire-rim glasses from his nose to get a better look, but she still looked stunningly beautiful. Her hair fell about her face in an ebony curtain and the red satin of her gown, overlaid with black velvet in an intricate flowered pattern, brought out the rosy tint of her alabaster skin.
    And that was just from the neck up. From the neck down, she made his eyes sting, his mouth go dry and his nerve endings sizzle.
    He’d always known Lucy had a fabulous body. All the straight skirts and tailored jackets in the world couldn’t hide that. But this dress, with its spaghetti straps and scallop-edged bodice, high-slit skirt and the three to four inch heels that made her legs go on for eternity, brought out every nuance of her drop-dead figure.
    His gaze drifted over the generous swell of her breasts, the slim line of her waist, the gentle curve of her hips, and up again. Her ice-blue eyes met his and for the first time in his life, he found himself at a loss for words. Speechless, when he’d thought that was something only movie stars suffered because a script called for it.
    After several long seconds of complete, utter silence, Lucy interrupted his total lack of thought and started blood flowing back to his brain.
    â€œWhat?” she asked, glancing