moment of panic at the idea of being adrift in this huge house. Warren was the only person she knew in this place, the only person who had given her a measure of comfort in the whole of the United States. She shouldn’t have to second-guess choosing the bedroom that meant she’d be closer to him. If she liked the fact that he was convenient, no one had to know. Nor would she ever act on that convenience. He was her boss and she owed him a debt of gratitude for keeping her out of Australia.
Plus, he’d backed off in a hurry when she’d tried to put parameters around this nebulous thing he’d called “dinner.” Of course, it was crystal clear now that he hadn’t defined it as a date in any way, shape or form.
Which was good. She was telling herself it was good, even as she tried to figure out what you wore to dinner with your husband who wasn’t really a husband. One of her serviceable dove-gray suits felt too...officey, despite the fact that she’d been wearing one all day. Jeans and a T-shirt, like what she wore to the grocery store, seemed too casual. But then, Warren had mentioned they’d be dining at the house, so maybe casual wasn’t off base.
In the end, she couldn’t do it. She picked the brown suit and hid a peacock-blue silk bra with corded straps and a matching thong under it. Defiantly. It was her favorite set, bought with her first paycheck from the Flying Squirrel campaign. She’d waltzed right into that high-end lingerie store in downtown Raleigh and bought the classiest, most beautiful fabrics in the place. The clerk had folded her purchase into silver tissue paper, then tucked her lingerie into a foil bag the size of a paperback. Nothing she’d bought needed a bigger package, since both scraps were tiny and revealing.
Not that she’d ever reveal any of it to anyone. Her little secret. A kick in the teeth to Bryan’s memory, who had never wanted her to wear anything remotely flashy or skimpy. She didn’t dress that way on the outside, but that barrier of boring clothing was for her own peace of mind. Better to avoid attention than to seek it.
Dinner was exactly as advertised. At home, low-key and not a date. Warren wore the same T-shirt and jeans he’d had on earlier, but of course he looked like a dream in anything. She so rarely saw him in something besides a suit that she took time to enjoy the way his shoulders filled out the soft cotton, graceful biceps emerging below the cuffs.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
