There was
nothing that excited him more than a challenge.
At five to six, Lisa had been close to panic. Nothing had gone as she’d planned this afternoon. Everything had taken simply ages!
Longest had been the applying of some false tan, necessary because the dress she’d bought was a one-shouldered style which showed a white strap mark. A tedious task in itself. But first, she’d had to bathe and shave her legs and exfoliate properly.
Absolutely no time for lying back and reading.
By the time all that was done to her satisfaction, it was after three. After a hurried snack, she tackled her hair, a time-consuming job as well. Again, probably because of nerves, the style she’d chosen to suit her very feminine dress just didn’t work out. In the end she shampooed her hair a second time and started from scratch again, this time putting it up into a French pleat, which she could have done in her sleep. But she was disappointed and frustrated that she couldn’t manage the softer, curlier look she’d wanted.
By this stage it was ten past five, leaving her less than an hour to do her nails and make-up and get dressed. The nails she managed without smudging, but it took twenty minutes. Transforming her naturally pretty face into something much more glamorous and sophisticated took another fifteen.
Foundation first, then blusher, then powder, then eye-shadow; smoky grey colours which deepened her corn-flower-blue eyes. Her hand had started shaking as she applied her eye-liner, Lisa muttering some uncharacteristic swearwords when she poked herself in the eye.
Her mouth came last, with Lisa waffling over which lipstick to use. And what colour. Her full lips didn’t really need to be made to look bigger. Lisa hated that bee-stung look. In the end, she just rubbed in some lipgloss with her fingertips.
Deciding what earrings to wear wasted another five minutes, her more severe hair-do crying out for something glamorous, not the simple pearl drops she’d been planning on wearing.
Unfortunately, glamorous hadn’t been on Lisa’s shopping list for some years. In desperation she dragged out some long, dangling gold ones Greg had bought for her one Christmas, also changing her cream high heels for open-toed gold sandals which hadn’t seen the light of day for yonks either.
Just as well they weren’t a style which dated.
By then it was ten to six. Time to get into her dress.
Stripping off her bathrobe, Lisa carefully slipped the dress over her head, sliding her left arm through the one armhole whilst protecting her hair with her free hand. The dress slithered down her body, the shoulder strap halting its progress. Lisa did up the cleverly hidden sidezip, slipped her feet into her sandals then walked over to inspect the final product in the full-length mirror which hung on the back of her bedroom door.
This was where the panic set in. Instead of looking ultra-sophisticated and coolly glamorous, she looked…well…she looked sexy!
Lisa could not believe it. The dress in itself wasn’t sexy. Just a chiffon sheath which skimmed her slender figure, the material graduating from cream at the top to a coffee colour down at the handkerchief hemline.
Unfortunately, the one-shouldered style meant she either had to wear a strapless bra or no bra. Given that the dress was fully lined and Lisa didn’t have large breasts, she’d decided on the no-bra option. She’d always hated strapless bras, which had a tendency to slip.
She hadn’t realised till this moment that her nipples would be so obvious. Or that she might look as if she had not a stitch on underneath.
Of course, she was wearing panties. But they were the sleek, stretchy kind which didn’t show a line underneath your clothes.
Lisa was about to rummage through her underwear drawer in search of a strapless bra when she heard the sound of a car coming down the street.
Too late, she realised when it throttled down outside her house.
Grabbing her cream clutch bag, she dashed over to her bedroom window, which overlooked the street below. The sight of a sleek black sports car parked next to her post-box made her groan. The neighbours were going to have a field-day if they saw her getting into that!
She was about to run downstairs and make a quick exit when the driver’s door opened and Jack climbed out.
At least, Lisa presumed it was Jack. The male who’d emerged and was currently striding up to her front door was remotely similar to the man she’d met the previous day. He did have the same nicely shaped head. And the same short, dark hair.
But that was where the similarity ended.
‘Oh, my,’ Lisa said in a soft, uncharacteristically breathy voice.
By the time he disappeared under the front porch, Lisa was shaking her head. Who would have believed that a change of clothes—and a shave—could make that much of a difference? Jack now looked just like his car. Sleek and powerful and sexy.
Sexy?
Lisa was taken aback. Since when did she start thinking any man was sexy?
Whirling away from the window, she marched off in the direction of downstairs, reminding herself the whole way down that being superficially attracted to a man was just that. Superficial.
She’d been attracted to Greg, who’d been a very handsome man. But she still hadn’t liked sex with him.
Nothing has changed, she warned herself, so don’t start hoping that it has.
The front doorbell rang on the way downstairs, Lisa’s wayward thoughts back in check by the time she reached for the door knob. There were still some butterflies in her stomach over the evening ahead, but she had every confidence she could hide those. She’d been hiding her anxious nature for years.
Jack appreciated, the instant she opened the door, why he hadn’t been able to get Lisa out of his mind all day.
He’d dated a lot of blondes in his time, as Helene had pointed out. But none had ever exuded what this one did.
She reminded Jack of an Alfred Hitchcock heroine. Lovely to look at. Sexy, in an understated way. But so icily self-contained that you wanted to reach out and pull her into your arms. Wanted to break her down. Wanted to make her lose her much prided self-control.
Her smile was polite. But her eyes remained annoyingly unreadable as they swept over him. ‘My, don’t you look simply splendid? Like James Bond on his way to a casino.’
It was a type of compliment, he supposed.
‘And you look like Grace Kelly, in To Catch a Thief,’ he countered.
Only with less underwear, he suddenly noticed.
Actually, if Jack hadn’t known better, he might have thought she was totally naked underneath her dress. She certainly wasn’t wearing a bra.
What he wouldn’t give to reach out right now and slip that thin strap off her shoulder. In his mind’s eye the dress was already slithering down her delicious body onto the doorstep, leaving her standing there wearing not much more but those sexy gold shoes.
When
