HAYDEN (Dragon Security Book 5) Read Free Page A

babydoll top up against me.
    “And blue. I like blue.”
    She grabbed a light blue top from the bed and held that up to me. She was standing behind me, her arms wrapped around my shoulders. I caught a little sadness in her eyes, but then she forced a smile.
    “I think you’re beautiful whatever you wear.”
    “You know what I want to do?” I said suddenly.
    “What?”
    “When we go to New York, I want to buy myself some new clothes—different clothes. I’m tired of dressing like this,” I said, lifting the hem of my skirt. “What do you think?”
    “I’ve been trying to get you to do that for years!”
    I turned back to the mirror, holding a racy red blouse to my chest.
    “What do you think?”
    She laughed. “A little much for a meeting with a mortgage officer. But we can make it work.”
    She went to her closet and pulled out a black silk blouse that was fitted at the waist.
    “With a pair of slacks?” she asked.
    “Maybe.”
    But there was this dress in her closet… When we were in high school, I used to spend hours in Megan’s room, looking at all her clothes, her shoes, all the things my mother would never allow me to wear. My mom was ultra-conservative. That woman went to church every Wednesday and Sunday and attended every prayer meeting, everything the pastor suggested she attend. And she kept a pious home, expecting me to say my prayers five times a day—before each meal, before bed, and first thing upon waking. She would fall over dead if I even attempted to step out the front door in a t-shirt and jeans. She expected me to wear proper attire, which to her meant long skirts, baggy, non-formfitting blouses, and a sweater. And those were always either black or gray.
    Even now, whenever I dressed in the morning, I could hear my mom’s voice at the back of my head screaming about my whore-of-Babylon ways because I chose sweaters and blouses with color in them—pinks and yellows and greens—and the occasional dress that might show a bit of skin.
    To my friends and co-workers, I still dressed incredibly conservative. But to my mother, I was dressed provocatively, just looking to get myself into trouble. According to her, I was going straight to hell because I wore a light blue sweater set to church a month ago.
    Most people would cut themselves off from someone like my mom. But she was my mom.
    I lifted the dress I had in mind from the hanger in Megan’s closet. When I turned, her eyes lit up and she smiled this big, wide smile.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Positive.”
    I slipped out of my own clothes, but before I could put the dress on, Megan took a slender box from the top drawer of her dresser.
    “I’ve never worn these, but they’d go perfect with that dress.”
    It was a lacy bra, white and red and black with demi-cups that would allow for some cleavage. And the panties were cut high, but narrow, leaving very little to the imagination. Much better than my granny panties.
    “Megan, these are expensive. I don’t want to—”
    “Nonsense. I have dozens like them.”
    I looked at her. She shrugged.
    “Luke liked them.”
    “I’m sure he did.”
    “Maybe Hayden will, too.”
    I groaned. “We’re just pretending to be married, Meg.”
    I stepped into the bathroom and put the underwear on, staring at myself in the full-length mirror attached to one wall. I hardly recognized myself. I’d always seen myself as this frumpy little girl, smaller than everyone else. I had mousy reddish hair and too many curves in all the wrong places. And eyes that boys in high school used to say resembled the color of baby shit. Kids can be cruel.
    But this person looking back at me from the mirror was different. This person was almost beautiful. Her hips were round, but the right kind of round, her belly flat and her breasts large, but still perky…the sort of ripe that suggested youth. Her thighs weren’t as heavy as they were when she played softball, but they were still toned and attractive. And there