cocky.
“I’m not a pushover.”
“You’re a challenge. I’m always up for a challenge.”
Damn, this little room was heating up. “Let me think.” Stalling, I crossed my arms, resulting in even more pronounced cleavage.
He inhaled deeply. “While you’re thinking, can I help you out of your lingerie?”
“You’ve had enough eye candy for one day.” My very own boy toy. It sounded sinful. And sensational. Sin sational. I grinned. For now, I’d gone far enough. “I’ll buy the lingerie. Ring it up for me.”
“While we’re on the topic of what’s best for the customer, a pair of black fishnet stockings would complement the crimson quite well.” He glanced at my bare legs.
Might as well swallow the bait. “I suppose you want me to model them for you too?”
“It’s always best to try on an item before buying it.”
“Not today.” I touched his lips with my index finger, tracing their fullness, their softness. “But I can do my part to help you pay off the repairs to your mother’s car. I’ll take two pairs of fishnets. Can you pick out the right size for me while I change?”
“Of course.” After taking a last lingering look at my cleavage, he left the room.
Chapter Two
As I relaxed on my bed in my new matching bustier and thong, a box of chocolates on my night table, and a book about climbing Mount Everest in my hand, my cell beeped for the tenth time. Or maybe the eleventh. I checked the number.
Ryder. I popped another creamy caramel into my mouth.
Why did I pull Ryder into the changing room? Now a war raged between my loyalty to my husband and a passion for a guy barely out of his teens.
What if Lorena found out? Hell, she might be happy if her son had a fling with someone responsible for a change. Or I might lose her as a friend.
What about Gemma?
My heart stuttered. The day after our kiss, Ryder broke up with her. It took months of moping, and lots of there-are-plenty-more-fish-in-the-sea talks, before Gemma found the heart to date another guy. If she found out, she’d feel crushed, angry, betrayed, and that was putting it mildly.
Dammit. What do I do ?
Why couldn’t I allow myself to move on, to have a fling, to reconnect with the fun-loving part of myself?
Guilt shadowed me during the day, frowning at me while I slaved over my Mac at the office, and at night it lay under the covers with me, a thorny burden that never, ever went away.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the phone and read the series of messages.
“I know the perfect place for you to get your wings back. I’ll teach you how to fly again. Call me.”
Nothing risky, thanks. I’d get my thrills vicariously from now on, by reading crime novels and watching documentaries on the Discovery Channel.
“No one needs to know. You. Me. A campfire by the lake.”
I loved campfires, sitting by the water, listening to the hiss and crackle of the flames. Did I want to pursue this fantasy?
Yes .
Cramming the spiny ball of guilt into a huge box and padlocking it shut, I dialed his number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Can you keep this to yourself?” I asked without bothering to say hello. “You won’t tell anyone?”
“I swear.”
“Have you heard of the saying, ‘Three people can keep a secret, if two of them are dead’?”
“No, but I understand your point.” He chuckled. “There’s one place I need to take you where there are people around, though. We’ll keep it platonic. No worries.”
“No one can find out,” I insisted. The contents of the box fought to break free. Gemma. Maddox. The accident. The padlock strained, metal groaned, but the lid stayed shut.
“We’ll keep it casual. I want to take you on an adventure.”
“No romance.” Not yet. I needed more time. The old me would have shouted carpe diem and snatched this opportunity without a second thought. The new me was sitting home alone on a Friday night with a box of chocolates for company. “When and
“I’m not a pushover.”
“You’re a challenge. I’m always up for a challenge.”
Damn, this little room was heating up. “Let me think.” Stalling, I crossed my arms, resulting in even more pronounced cleavage.
He inhaled deeply. “While you’re thinking, can I help you out of your lingerie?”
“You’ve had enough eye candy for one day.” My very own boy toy. It sounded sinful. And sensational. Sin sational. I grinned. For now, I’d gone far enough. “I’ll buy the lingerie. Ring it up for me.”
“While we’re on the topic of what’s best for the customer, a pair of black fishnet stockings would complement the crimson quite well.” He glanced at my bare legs.
Might as well swallow the bait. “I suppose you want me to model them for you too?”
“It’s always best to try on an item before buying it.”
“Not today.” I touched his lips with my index finger, tracing their fullness, their softness. “But I can do my part to help you pay off the repairs to your mother’s car. I’ll take two pairs of fishnets. Can you pick out the right size for me while I change?”
“Of course.” After taking a last lingering look at my cleavage, he left the room.
Chapter Two
As I relaxed on my bed in my new matching bustier and thong, a box of chocolates on my night table, and a book about climbing Mount Everest in my hand, my cell beeped for the tenth time. Or maybe the eleventh. I checked the number.
Ryder. I popped another creamy caramel into my mouth.
Why did I pull Ryder into the changing room? Now a war raged between my loyalty to my husband and a passion for a guy barely out of his teens.
What if Lorena found out? Hell, she might be happy if her son had a fling with someone responsible for a change. Or I might lose her as a friend.
What about Gemma?
My heart stuttered. The day after our kiss, Ryder broke up with her. It took months of moping, and lots of there-are-plenty-more-fish-in-the-sea talks, before Gemma found the heart to date another guy. If she found out, she’d feel crushed, angry, betrayed, and that was putting it mildly.
Dammit. What do I do ?
Why couldn’t I allow myself to move on, to have a fling, to reconnect with the fun-loving part of myself?
Guilt shadowed me during the day, frowning at me while I slaved over my Mac at the office, and at night it lay under the covers with me, a thorny burden that never, ever went away.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the phone and read the series of messages.
“I know the perfect place for you to get your wings back. I’ll teach you how to fly again. Call me.”
Nothing risky, thanks. I’d get my thrills vicariously from now on, by reading crime novels and watching documentaries on the Discovery Channel.
“No one needs to know. You. Me. A campfire by the lake.”
I loved campfires, sitting by the water, listening to the hiss and crackle of the flames. Did I want to pursue this fantasy?
Yes .
Cramming the spiny ball of guilt into a huge box and padlocking it shut, I dialed his number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Can you keep this to yourself?” I asked without bothering to say hello. “You won’t tell anyone?”
“I swear.”
“Have you heard of the saying, ‘Three people can keep a secret, if two of them are dead’?”
“No, but I understand your point.” He chuckled. “There’s one place I need to take you where there are people around, though. We’ll keep it platonic. No worries.”
“No one can find out,” I insisted. The contents of the box fought to break free. Gemma. Maddox. The accident. The padlock strained, metal groaned, but the lid stayed shut.
“We’ll keep it casual. I want to take you on an adventure.”
“No romance.” Not yet. I needed more time. The old me would have shouted carpe diem and snatched this opportunity without a second thought. The new me was sitting home alone on a Friday night with a box of chocolates for company. “When and