forward in a hard, powerful kick full of fury and frustration. Then his right foot slipped and he realized too late that Camilla’s thong was underneath.
Arms wheeling, he skidded, his left leg propelling him forward with unstoppable momentum. His foot missed the book and instead he collided—hard—into the tempered-glass railing.
It gave with a resounding smash—as did what felt like every muscle and bone in his lower leg.
Lying on his back, a world of pain shooting up his leg, Lucas threw back his head and howled into the night sky.
SOPHIE GALLAGHER juggled shopping bags from one hand to the other as she searched for her house keys, finally finding them in the side pocket of her purse.
“Here, let me take those,” her best friend, Becky Kincaid, offered, holding out a hand for the bags.
“Thanks, but I’m all right,” Sophie assured her as they entered the apartment she shared with her fiancé, Brandon.
“Brandon is going to lose it when he sees you in that bustier and stockings,” Becky said as they dumped their parcels on the couch.
“Here’s hoping,” Sophie said, crossing both her fingers.
That had been the whole purpose of their shopping expedition, after all—finding something to help remind Brandon that, once upon a time, they used to have sex, rather than roll into bed each night and fall asleep after a perfunctory hug and kiss.
She blamed their inactivity on the fact that, as well as living together, they both worked in his family’s restaurant, Sorrentino’s—her has head chef, him as host. Sexual mystery and surprise went out the window when two people spent most of every day in each other’s company. Plus there was the fact that they’d been together for nearly fourteen years now. No wonder they needed a jump-start.
“He’d have to be blind not to react to that sexy little number,” Becky said loyally. “Although I still think you should have tried on that hot-pink one with the embroidery and the little transparent bits.”
Sophie shrugged. “I would have felt like such an impostor. As it is all this black satin is going to be hard enough to pull off.” Although she had been seriously tempted by the more daring lingerie. The bright color and the peek-a-boo panels had practically screamed wild, wanton woman.
Which was exactly why she hadn’t done more than admire it from a distance. She wasn’t remotely wild or wanton. She was reliable, calm, practical, dependable—pretty much the polar opposite of wild and wanton.
Upending one of the bags and shaking the contents out, Sophie blinked as an image from the past rushed her. Her older sister tipping another bag out onto the bed in their shared bedroom and a sea of color tumbling out—pink and aqua and purple and green. Thongs and push-up bras, a pair of tap pants and a sexy see-through bra all in silk and satin and lace. And all of it shoplifted, of course, courtesy of crazy, impetuous Carrie’s quick fingers. She had always been attracted to danger and fun.
Sophie ran a hand over the smooth, cool satin of the simple bustier she’d chosen today. Without a doubt, Carrie would have chosen the hot-pink one, and she would have worn it with sass and verve….
“You okay?” Becky asked, nudging Sophie with an elbow.
Sophie snapped out of her reverie, shaking off the old sadness.
“Sure.”
Glancing up, Sophie caught sight of the wall clock and nearly had a heart attack.
“Damn. He’s going to be home in twenty minutes,” she said.
“Into the shower. Quick. I’ll put this stuff on your bed and get the champagne ready,” Becky ordered.
Sophie hugged her friend impulsively. “Has anyone ever told you you’d make a great pimp?” she said.
“All the time. Why do you think I became a lawyer?” Becky said, poker-faced. “Now go make yourself irresistible.”
Sophie hustled into the bathroom, shucking her clothes in record time and stepping under the water before it even had a chance to warm up.
As she reached for the soap, she made a mental note to take Becky out for dinner or to buy her a thank-you gift for all her support. Sophie had never been big on talking about sex—perhaps because she and Brandon had been together since high school. They’d been each other’s first lovers, and there had never been anyone else for either of them. So it had taken a while for her to confide in her friend about such an intensely personal and private matter. Fortunately, Becky had proved to be a veritable treasure trove of information, with advice on everything from the best place to buy saucy lingerie to which books to read for bedroom advice.
“Soph, I’m going to skedaddle. You okay to take it from here on your own?” Becky called around the door. Sophie didn’t need to see her friend’s face to know she was smiling.
“Ah, yeah. I think I know what to do next,” Sophie said, tongue-in-cheek.
“Good lu-uck!” Becky singsonged on her way out the door.
Her mind on the time, Sophie turned the water off and scrambled out. Whisking a towel over herself, she walked naked and still damp into the bedroom and began to cinch herself into the bustier. It was an absolute bitch putting the stupid thing on backward and twisting it the right way around, but she figured the end result was more than worth it.
Making short work of rolling on black silk stockings, Sophie slid her feet into a pair of stilletto heels. She was short, her figure more Rubenesque than anorexic, but the high cut of her new panties and the dark stockings and high heels worked wonders. Satisfied with what she saw in the full-length mirror inside her closet door, she reached for her makeup bag. She’d finished lining her big brown eyes with smoky-kohl and was just dabbing on mascara when the phone rang. Groaning with frustration, she grabbed it and tried to do her other eye with the phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear.
“Hello?”
“Sophie, it’s Julie Jenkins calling,” a cultured voice said, and Sophie recognized one of the restaurant’s wealthiest patrons.
While she’d catered private functions for Julie a few times in the past, the other woman had never called her at home before. Switching gears, Sophie endeavored to sound professional even though she was acutely aware that she was dressed like a refugee from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
“Julie. How are you?”
“Very well, thank you. Sophie, I’m calling to ask a favor. I need someone to act as private chef on my Blue Mountains estate for the next four weeks. An old friend of mine is recuperating from an injury. Would you be interested?”
Sophie frowned and put down the mascara wand. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I could take time off from Sorrentino’s at such short notice,” she explained.
“What if I told you your client would be Lucas Grant?” Julie asked hopefully.
Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. Lucas Grant was Brandon’s absolute favorite actor. Personally, while she admired his acting, she found his rampant bad-boy persona ridiculous. The man was in his thirties, when was he going to stop partying and grow up?
“Tempted?”
