of anything else that will make an impression on his thick skull.”
Shelby picked up her coffee, putting a teasing tone in her voice. “You know, you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“What? Your grandmother say that?”
Shelby nodded. “All the time. Though I don’t think she had premarital sex in mind.”
“Ha. They had premarital sex back then. They just lied about it.”
Shelby grinned. “They also played hard to get.”
“You think I’m too available?”
Shelby nodded. “I think you need to make him wait on you. Oh. Even better. Whet his appetite and then make him wait.”
“How the hell am I going to whet his appetite if I never see him? He’s got meetings tonight, then he leaves for New York tomorrow morning.”
“The Preston International thing?”
“Exactly. He’ll be gone all the way through the weekend.”
“So send something with him.”
“What? Slip my panties into his suitcase?”
That was what Shelby had been about to suggest.
“He’s got six pairs,” said Allison. “Doesn’t seem to be working.”
“Sexy pairs?”
“No. White cotton. Of course they’re sexy.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah. Hmm.” Allison tore off a chunk of the cinnamon bun.
“Could you go to New York?”
“How does that make him wait?”
“Good point.”
Allison groaned around a bite of cinnamon bun. “And can you imagine how horrible it would be if he was at meetings all evening long while I waited in his hotel room?”
“Pathetic,” Shelby agreed.
“Seriously. I’d be worse off than when I started.”
Gaze resting on the mochaccino machine as it churned out another foam-topped coffee, Shelby searched her brain. “Phone sex?”
“He has call waiting on his cell.”
Shelby coughed out an outraged laugh. “He wouldn’t.”
“He has.”
“Tell me again why you’re marrying this man?”
Allison laughed darkly, tipping forward as she shook her head. “He’s charming, intelligent, gorgeous and hardworking.” She straightened, flipped her hair back and groaned again. “He really is. I just have to figure out how to get back on top of his priority list.”
“Pictures,” said Shelby.
“Pictures?”
“Sexy pictures.”
“What? Like a magazine?”
Shelby pointed at Allison with her index finger, warming to the idea. “Yeah. Just like a magazine. Only you.”
Allison’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“You. In sexy pictures. Hide them in his luggage. He stares at them for four days in New York, comes home, and voilà. Instant sex.”
“I don’t have any sexy pictures.”
“Have some taken.”
“By who?”
“Me, Dallas—”
“Dallas!”
“I’m joking. There are studios that do stuff like that. They even supply the clothes, the makeup, the props, the works.”
“Props?” Allison squeaked. “I don’t think I can do props.”
“I meant a feather boa, a fur rug. Sexy, not smutty.”
Allison looked skeptical.
“It’d work,” said Shelby.
“I don’t think I could—”
“We’ll call around, find some place with a female photographer. They give you the negatives. Nobody but you and Greg will ever know about it.”
Allison grimaced. “I really don’t know if I could do it.”
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