Slow Burn: Seducing Mr. Right / Take Me. Cherry Adair
* * *
THANK GOD SHE didn’t model any of the stuff she was looking at. Luke would’ve had a stroke. As it was he was grateful to be sitting. He was as hard as petrified wood just watching Cat slide wispy bits of see-through silks and laces through her fingers before taking them into the dressing room. Surely to God none of those teddies would fit a grown woman? There wasn’t more than five inches of fabric in the entire garment.
“You must be bored out of your mind.” Cat emerged, a dozen satin hangers in each hand. Luke sat conspicuously on a spindly, peach-satin ladies’ chair.
“I’m fine. Take your time.” I’m far too horny to stand or walk. Luke dredged up a smile. “Really, Cat, I’m kinda enjoying the scenery. Take as long as you like.” He’d never thought to frequent lingerie stores to troll for females. Too bad he couldn’t care less about his new discovery. Cat glanced around, as if only now noticing the store was filled with women.
“Almost done. What do you think of these?”
“These” consisted of a bra that looked like two smiles of pale purple satin and a stamp-size sliver of supple, lime-green silk. There wasn’t much to the top, and the bottom consisted of a short length of matching dental floss. There wasn’t a single fluff of lace or frou-frou on either garment.
“Kinda plain, aren’t they?” Like wearing nothing at all.
“I like the colors.”
“Then buy them.” She’d look like a mermaid, with a sexy, slippery wisp of green covering her long sexy, slippery body. The skimpy top would barely cover her breasts. Those delectable, peach tipped— “Buy them all and let’s get out of here. You said you wanted shoes? There are a couple of reasonable places in the next block. I’ve got an appointment in a couple of hours. We’d better make tracks.”
“But you said—”
“Hey, a man can only stand so much of a good thing.”
Five hundred dollars worth of intimate apparel fit into a tiny shopping bag. The smaller the garment, apparently, the higher the price.
Luke felt much more himself when they walked into the shoe store. There was nothing remotely sexy about feet, in his opinion. His libido had taken a beating in the lingerie boutique. But now he could relax. He sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs lined up in the center of the store as Cat wandered around. That creamy yellow dress was dynamite on her; the color brought out the fire in her hair. Luke watched her through narrowed eyes. The simple style suited her; the square-necked, sleeveless dress had no waistline and gently fell to just above her knees, setting off long limbs lengthened by high heels.
Around her throat and draped between her breasts, Cat wore a heavy, almost barbaric necklace consisting of large cream and bronze beads and hammered copper squares. He’d bought the necklace and matching earrings and bracelet for her in Africa several years ago. At the time he’d imagined Cat wearing just that pagan jewelry. Nothing else. Instead of hand delivering his gift, Luke had mailed it to her in Oregon. Then he’d turned off the phone and got blind drunk for two days.
“Sorry. Are you in a coma?” Cat asked, giving him a sympathetic glance as she sat beside him. “I’d like to try these, please,” she told the salesman hovering ingratiatingly nearby. She gave him her size and a handful of left shoes, and he trundled off.
Luke dredged up a smile and shifted slightly so they weren’t quite so close. “I told you, I’m fine. Although I’ve got to admit I don’t have the patience for shopping that Nick does. Man, that guy shops as enthusiastically as a woman. On the other hand, he never told me what a treasure trove lingerie shops are.”
“Haven’t you ever bought sexy lingerie for one of your girlfriends?”
“Hell, no!”
Cat laughed. “Why not?”
Luke was saved from answering by the salesman’s return with several boxes, which he placed on the floor at Cat’s feet like an offering. “I’ll be back in a jiff,” he assured her, then scurried off for more.
Luke didn’t buy sexy lingerie for women. One, because he hated to shop, never went to malls, and frankly, it had never occurred to him to casually stroll into a potpourri-scented “pink” store. Two, because by the time he could order anything from a catalog, the woman would have been long gone, only to be replaced by someone who might not be the same size.
He slouched in his chair. His knee brushed Cat’s bare legs as he shifted. She smelled so damn good he wanted to forget the promises he’d made and lick her. All over. Then go back for seconds. And thirds...
The salesman knelt before Cat. “May I?” he asked, removing the shoes from the box beside him and stripping out the paper stuffing. Catherine offered her foot.
The man slid on a high-heeled red sandal. “Oh, my. These shoes were made for you. Look how well they show off this glorious high arch of yours.”
“Dream on,” Luke grumbled under his breath.
The salesman cast him a wary glance as he produced the other damn shoe. Luke’s mouth went Sahara dry. His eyes glommed on, riveted to her slender, tanned foot sliding slowly, slowly into that shoe. She had the sexiest feet he’d ever seen. High instep, neat little toes, nails painted a glossy fire-engine red. His erection had merely been lying dormant. It came back to life in a hurry. Oxygen drained out of his brain, leaving him dizzy.
Cat’s feet were sexy as hell.
Who would’ve thunk it? he thought without humor. He wanted to slide those sandals on her himself. Luke closed his eyes. He pictured himself holding her heel in his palm, his other hand slipping the shoe slowly over her toes. Pictured his hand gliding up the smooth, lightly tanned, highly freckled length of her leg. Up. Up. To a wisp of a thong of lime-green silk—
“Well? What do you think?” Cat stood, wriggling her toes and looking down at him. Luke refocused and cleared his throat.
“Buy them in every color they have.”
Cat frowned, then turned to the salesman. “Let me try on a few of the others.”
While Cat and the man conferred on colors and styles, Luke congratulated himself on his fortitude and self-sacrifice. He was a prince among men to resist her under so much temptation.
His eyes zeroed in on her sexy toes again.
Yeah, a saint.
* * *
CATHERINE SANG AT the top of her voice as she walked into the living room fresh from a shower, rubbing her hair with a towel and heading for the kitchen. She screeched to a stop midnote when she saw Luke. He looked up from the book in his lap.
“Hey. You’re home early,” she said unnecessarily.
Grinning, he demanded, “What did you do with the money?”
“What money?”
“The money for the singing lessons.”
“Ha ha. Spent it the same place you did those dancing lessons, Van Buren.”
He wore white shorts and a tank top that had seen better days. He’d changed while she’d been in the bathroom, and had tossed the clothes he’d worn to work on the table by the front door. One of his shoes was near the bedroom door, the other under the coffee table. His socks decorated the lamp shade.
“I had the bathroom door closed. You could have come in and changed in the bedroom, you know.”
“Yeah, right,” Luke said dryly. His eyes skimmed down the now damp cotton jersey of her sundress and back to her face.
They were having a heat wave. The most she could bear having next to her skin was the skimpy, bright yellow tank dress and cotton underwear. “Yeah, right?”
“Yeah. Right. I could have. But I didn’t. Hey. Molly Cruz called. She wants you