Saturday night—EVER.”
Axel exhaled loudly. “You two take it—eight o’clock, on the agency.” His scrutiny landed on me. “That’s an order if you want a job Monday morning.”
His glare shifted to Bradley. “Drown your differences with a couple of stiff cocktails. Does wonders for Michelle and I. Less chance of a brawl in public.”
Axel slammed his own office door and then reopened it. “There are pluses and minuses in every relationship. Make a fucking list.”
NINE
AN EIGHT O’CLOCK reservation gave me just enough time to dash home, shower, and change, but no room to ransack my wardrobe. Damn! One of my favorite things to do before a hot date was to try on half a dozen outfits.
A hot date.
I slowed down for half a second. Is that what this was? It had been a long time since a date, hot or otherwise, made me this nervous and trembly. I pushed hangers along the closet pole until I came to the one dress that fit the occasion.
When in doubt, the raspberry-red sheath.
My go-to, insanely sexy dress with the low, square-cut neckline. A demi-cup bra gave my boobs extra bounce and featured a hint of raspberry lace with every breath I exhaled. And just to make sure that all parts were edible. I took a long hot shower and used plenty of touch-of-summer body lotion.
At 7:15, I buzzed him upstairs.
When the knock came, I aimed a spritz of Jo Malone cologne down the hallway and stepped through a mist of orange blossoms. Turning sideways, I checked the look in the mirror over the hall table. The dress hugged every curve and yet had modest cap sleeves. Audrey Hepburn demure, with an edge. I leaned over and adjusted a silver heel strap as I answered the door.
He stood in the hallway and stared. “Good God, Gracie.”
I straightened slowly, taking in his extra gorgeousness. Bradley had style—but not too much style. Nothing unmanly about this man. He wore a black sports coat over a white starched shirt. The double mandarin collar revealed a hint of pale blue, as did the double cuff, that edged his jacket sleeve. The look might have been starchy, but for a few shirt buttons left undone, as if he hadn’t finished dressing and had left his collar up. The effect was American casual, with hints of British formal.
I enjoyed a fleeting fantasy. Mr. Darcy had come to escort me to the ball, only he was late and had dashed out of the manse partially dressed. I half-expected Bradley to pull out a fluffy white cravat and say, ‘could you help me with this, darling?’
Instead, he said, “You are so beautiful.”
“And you look dashing as well, Mister Craig.” He was, in fact, a gorgeous man—handsome and sexually charged. He both thrilled and terrified me. And something else, I had come to understand that Bradley might also be a great guy, the kind of man you wanted to keep around, maybe forever.
Get a grip, Gracie, you haven’t even slept with him yet.
I quickly gathered my things. A Chinese silk evening jacket—navy blue covered in large, pink-red peonies, and a small, rhinestone clutch. The rainstorm had passed leaving the air balmy, with a hint of crisp, which meant my curls would be great. The city was finally beginning to feel like fall, my favorite time of year.
In the cab, he continued to stare. “The dress—the color is sensational on you. I’m—” He laughed a bit self-consciously. “You take my breath away.” His gaze dropped lower, to the rise and fall of my breasts, and the hint of underthings. His pupils turned darker, a sure sign of desire. “Is everything red?”
I nodded. “Raspberry-red.”
He placed his hand on my knee. “Important distinction.” His fingertips brushed the insides of my thighs and did not hesitate to travel higher. Protectively, he angled up close, blocking the cab driver’s rear view. My legs trembled as he hooked his thumb into lace panties and pulled hard enough to slip them off my hips. “You won’t be needing these.” He rolled them down my
Axel exhaled loudly. “You two take it—eight o’clock, on the agency.” His scrutiny landed on me. “That’s an order if you want a job Monday morning.”
His glare shifted to Bradley. “Drown your differences with a couple of stiff cocktails. Does wonders for Michelle and I. Less chance of a brawl in public.”
Axel slammed his own office door and then reopened it. “There are pluses and minuses in every relationship. Make a fucking list.”
NINE
AN EIGHT O’CLOCK reservation gave me just enough time to dash home, shower, and change, but no room to ransack my wardrobe. Damn! One of my favorite things to do before a hot date was to try on half a dozen outfits.
A hot date.
I slowed down for half a second. Is that what this was? It had been a long time since a date, hot or otherwise, made me this nervous and trembly. I pushed hangers along the closet pole until I came to the one dress that fit the occasion.
When in doubt, the raspberry-red sheath.
My go-to, insanely sexy dress with the low, square-cut neckline. A demi-cup bra gave my boobs extra bounce and featured a hint of raspberry lace with every breath I exhaled. And just to make sure that all parts were edible. I took a long hot shower and used plenty of touch-of-summer body lotion.
At 7:15, I buzzed him upstairs.
When the knock came, I aimed a spritz of Jo Malone cologne down the hallway and stepped through a mist of orange blossoms. Turning sideways, I checked the look in the mirror over the hall table. The dress hugged every curve and yet had modest cap sleeves. Audrey Hepburn demure, with an edge. I leaned over and adjusted a silver heel strap as I answered the door.
He stood in the hallway and stared. “Good God, Gracie.”
I straightened slowly, taking in his extra gorgeousness. Bradley had style—but not too much style. Nothing unmanly about this man. He wore a black sports coat over a white starched shirt. The double mandarin collar revealed a hint of pale blue, as did the double cuff, that edged his jacket sleeve. The look might have been starchy, but for a few shirt buttons left undone, as if he hadn’t finished dressing and had left his collar up. The effect was American casual, with hints of British formal.
I enjoyed a fleeting fantasy. Mr. Darcy had come to escort me to the ball, only he was late and had dashed out of the manse partially dressed. I half-expected Bradley to pull out a fluffy white cravat and say, ‘could you help me with this, darling?’
Instead, he said, “You are so beautiful.”
“And you look dashing as well, Mister Craig.” He was, in fact, a gorgeous man—handsome and sexually charged. He both thrilled and terrified me. And something else, I had come to understand that Bradley might also be a great guy, the kind of man you wanted to keep around, maybe forever.
Get a grip, Gracie, you haven’t even slept with him yet.
I quickly gathered my things. A Chinese silk evening jacket—navy blue covered in large, pink-red peonies, and a small, rhinestone clutch. The rainstorm had passed leaving the air balmy, with a hint of crisp, which meant my curls would be great. The city was finally beginning to feel like fall, my favorite time of year.
In the cab, he continued to stare. “The dress—the color is sensational on you. I’m—” He laughed a bit self-consciously. “You take my breath away.” His gaze dropped lower, to the rise and fall of my breasts, and the hint of underthings. His pupils turned darker, a sure sign of desire. “Is everything red?”
I nodded. “Raspberry-red.”
He placed his hand on my knee. “Important distinction.” His fingertips brushed the insides of my thighs and did not hesitate to travel higher. Protectively, he angled up close, blocking the cab driver’s rear view. My legs trembled as he hooked his thumb into lace panties and pulled hard enough to slip them off my hips. “You won’t be needing these.” He rolled them down my
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