It's in His Touch Read Free Page B

pulled at the hem of her formfitting cocktail dress. “It makes me feel so much better about my life.”
    Kimberly headed toward the cashier. “You’re just upset over your freakishly handsome neighbor. Don’t let it bother you.” Kimberly strutted along in her four-inch knee-high boots.
    Through the skintight fabric of her dress, Angelique adjusted the snug waistband of her rubberlike undergarment. “I can’t believe you made me wear this thing. We’ll have to stop by the nearest fire station on the way home so they can pry me out of it with the Jaws of Life.”
    “You’re five feet nine and all legs. That dress is made for you,” Kimberly said as they exchanged cash for chips.
    “Well, I’m wearing a steel-belted radial.” Angelique scratched at her lower thigh. “And it’s kind of itchy.”
    Kimberly grabbed Angelique’s arm and tugged her over to the roulette table. “Roulette is on our bucket list, so we start here.”
    Angelique rolled her eyes. “Seriously, how many more things are on your bucket list? Because this is getting ridiculous.”
    When Angelique was diagnosed, Kimberly had a meltdown. She sat by Angelique’s bedside for a week crying, cussing, then crying some more. Angelique didn’t have the heart to tell the poor girl what an ugly crier she was, but it had provided some entertainment while Angelique regained her strength. As a coping mechanism, Kimberly made a list of all the things they were going to do together while they still could .
    “It took forever to get that temporary electric-blue dye out of our hair. I walked around for a month looking like an ethnic version of Katy Perry,” Angelique grumbled.
    “The color complimented your olive complexion.”
    “That was the week I tried to go back to work. It probably set my partnership back another year.”
    Kimberly, clad in a black leather miniskirt and zebra-print sweater, stuck out a hip and planted her right hand on it. “We were celebrating the fact that you got to keep your hair. Besides, after two days, you decided it was too soon to return to the office. Remember?”
    How could Angelique forget?
    On Angelique’s second day, she’d gone back to the office late to pick up a few files. Walking in on Gabriel balls deep in her legal assistant, Ciara Mathews, with her ankles wrapped around his neck, wasn’t something Angelique would likely forget in this lifetime.
    That’s when the ship carrying Angelique’s sex life had sailed without her. And when she confronted him, he’d actually had the nerve to blame his cheating on her, accusing her of shutting him out. Seriously? That torpedoed her USS Coitus and it sank to the bottom of the ocean somewhere between Bite Me Island and the continent of Go to Hell in a Handbasket.
    The croupier set the wheel in motion and dropped the ball. Click, click, click—the rhythmic bouncing caused a ripple of anticipation around the crowded table.
    “And pretending to be a cop so you could frisk that guy at Cold Stone Creamery almost got us arrested.” The spinning wheel made Angelique a little dizzy, and she reached for the table to steady herself. “By the real police.”
    “Seemed like a good plan, mocha java chip and the feel of firm thighs at the same time.” Kimberly shrugged. “That was much further down the list, but the opportunity presented itself.”
    The bouncing ceased and the croupier called out the winner, causing a squeal from a scantily clad woman at the far end of the table. She immediately placed her winnings plus a few more chips on the same number.
    “What number is gambling on your bucket list?” Angelique couldn’t hide the irritation in her voice.
    “It’s our bucket list, and gambling is number twelve.” She put a hundred-dollar black chip on number twelve. “Right before having a fling with someone tall, dark, and hot-some. Preferably on an island, so come on, place your bet. I hear Barbados calling to us.”
    “I’m not having a fling. With anyone.