Thigh High Read Free Page A

show off his six-pack.
    Debbie Voytilla sat next to him. Debbie was fun, cute, enthusiastic, and clever, a middle-aged divorcée, and a woman frankly enjoying her infatuation with Ryan. Putting her hand on his arm, she smiled into his face. “The coffee’s hot. Do you want me to freshen your cup?”
    â€œThanks, Debbie, but Nessa’s up. She can do it.” He held out his cup.
    All of her life, Nessa had taken this kind of nonsense from men, but with a smile rather than making a scene. Guys with small…egos…liked to be waited on, so she humored them. But lately, she hadn’t been herself. She was tired of people—men and women—taking advantage of her good nature, lying to her, using her. She blamed the last seven years; purgatory had curdled the milk of her human kindness into something else. The cottage cheese of bitterness, she guessed.
    Grabbing the coffeepot, she carried it over to Ryan’s outstretched cup—and poured a stream onto his wrist.
    â€œSon of a bitch!” He dropped the cup, splashing the floor with the dregs of coffee.
    Aunt Hestia stepped into the doorway. “Mr. Wright, we do not encourage that kind of language in the dining room!” But her eyes twinkled.
    â€œI’m so sorry.” Nessa put the pot back on the burner.
    â€œReally, Nessa! You’re clumsy this morning.” Debbie pulled an ice cube from her tea, wrapped it in a napkin, and put it on his wrist.
    â€œThat’s so much better.” Ryan gave a dramatic sigh, caught her hand, and kissed it. “Thank you, Debbie. You’re an angel.”
    Debbie dimpled and blushed.
    Ryan waited until she turned back to her meal. Then he glanced at Nessa and rolled his eyes.
    Nessa wished she had poured the coffee in his lap.
    â€œNessa, darling, you look so professional in that suit. A touch of red around your neck would make quite a power statement,” Daniel Friendly said.
    Nessa slipped into a chair beside him. “I’ve got a scarf in my bag.”
    â€œDo you want me to tie it for you?” Daniel asked.
    Nessa grinned at him. “I can tie a knot.”
    â€œI don’t tie knots, darling. I make artistic statements in silk.” Daniel was bronze sequins, white feathers and rhinestones. Pale skin, expertly applied makeup, and wide brown eyes. A swirl of blond hair and sensuous lips. And a figure that made men suck in their stomachs and the women pinch their husbands—until they discovered he was a guy in drag.
    Nessa only knew when she stood next to Daniel—Dana to his audience—that she felt like half a woman. In his gestures, his mannerisms, and his appearance, Daniel was ultrafeminine. Only his speaking voice gave him away.
    Aunt Calista bustled over to place a heaping plate of eggs, ham, and biscuits in front of Nessa. “Eat. You need sustenance to work in That Bank.”
    â€œWith That Woman,” Aunt Hestia added as she popped more bread in the toaster.
    The aunts always said it like that, in capital letters—That Bank, That Woman—and accompanied the words with glares of disapproval.
    Nessa smoothed her napkin in her lap. “My promotion is finally coming through.”
    â€œAbout time,” Daniel said.
    â€œWhen I think how That Woman has spread ugly rumors about how you’re soft—you, the descendent of Althea Dahl!” Calista said.
    â€œI don’t have a lot in common with Althea Dahl,” Nessa said.
    â€œNo, it’s not as if you’ve ever poisoned your husband. Not that you have a husband. Not that that’s a concern, you’re still young, but the occasional date wouldn’t hurt.” Hestia blinked at Nessa. “Are you bringing someone tonight?”
    Maddy stuck her head in from the kitchen. Their cook was black, four-foot-ten inches tall, ninety pounds soaking wet, older than God, and wielded as much authority.
    All conversation stopped while Maddy announced,