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Almost like magic, Julie appeared in the doorway, a wide smile on her face. She loved helping customers find the perfect disguise they hadn’t known they were looking for. “You like?”
“I love.” Nikki stroked the black silky fabric. She couldn’t wait to try it on. Why had she ever doubted her best friend? Julie somehow intuited what even strangers needed. So had she really believed she was that hard to figure out? They’d been friends for years. “What is it? I mean, what’s it supposed to be?”
Julie started to laugh, cupping her hand over her mouth. “You’re too much. You love it and you don’t even know what it is.”
Nikki frowned, still stroking the fabric. “It looks good, and that’s all I care about. So? C’mon. Tell me.”
Still chuckling, Julie reached down to pick up the vinyl bag Nikki hadn’t noticed on the bench. “You’ll need someone to do your makeup,” she said, showing Nikki the name of the costume on the front of the package. “Gotta do it just right.”
Nikki was about to exclaim indignantly that she could do her own damn makeup when she saw Julie’s smug smile. Then her gaze fell on the name of the costume. “Domme Kitty?” she gasped.
“Yep. A silk blend instead of leather to make it a little more classy.” Her smile changed into a smirk as she reached behind the costume. “You missed the best part. The tail.”
“Holy shit,” Nikki breathed, eyeing the long length of leather with a black pom-pom on the end. It looked like a damn flogger. The kind of thing she’d sworn out of her vanilla life when she’d become Easton
Nolan’s very respectable personal assistant, hopefully en route to becoming a real estate agent.
She’d be taking the test next week. And celebrating pre-emptively with Patrick in a few hours.
She hoped.
Erotic images filled her mind. Patrick spread out on a bed, his arms bound loosely with black scarves, his ripped torso—and the rest of him—bare and gleaming with oil as she circled the bed, drawing her tail over him from shoulder to hip, from neck to cock…
She shivered again. God, he couldn’t deny her tonight. She’d been revved up for a year. Twelve very long, sexually frustrating months.
“So.” Julie let the tail drop and arched a brow. “Now that I’ve come through so spectacularly, are you going to tell your best friend who exactly you’re intending to whip into submission?”
Nikki did her best not to fidget. She wasn’t going to give out names when she wasn’t sure how the night would go. “No one in particular.”
“Yeah, right. Sure it’s not that sexy as sin boss of yours?”
Nikki shook her head, but she didn’t answer. She doubted Julie even knew Easton had a twin. Nikki might’ve mentioned him in passing, but not likely. And though everyone in town seemed to pass through Julie’s costume shop at one time or another, she couldn’t imagine Patrick browsing in here. He’d be the type to order something online. Clicking through choices was much more his style.
Julie let out a breath, a rare show of frustration. “Well, whoever it is, I hope you go gentle on him.”
Nikki snorted and yanked warningly on the tail. “He better not count on it.”
Three
Patrick glanced down at the length of rope he held and wished it was his brother’s throat instead. Warm sun beat down on the back of his neck, dampening his skin with a fine mist of perspiration. It was the end of October, and fall weather in New England was far from predictable. How many more clear, sunny days like this would he get?
He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of tar overlaid with his brother’s eau de richy-rich cologne. “Why, exactly, is it you can’t handle your own damn party—again—and leave me to my damn roof?”
Easton smiled indulgently at him, his nonverbal way of patting him on the head. Now, now. Patrick may have been older by six minutes, but Easton’s look clearly conveyed his arrogance and maturity. “Something’s come up. Honestly, the guests take care of themselves. You just need to be there to…oversee.”
“Oversee,” Patrick repeated. He tossed the hunk of rope on the hood of his classic muscle car and shook his head. The chances of him feeling like getting back up on that roof today were slim. Mrs. Gonzales wouldn’t mind. She never minded, and he’d given her an excellent rate on the job. But he’d told her he would probably be done today.
Fuck.
There was one thing he had to know. One condition that was non-negotiable. Will Nikki be there? “Who’s RSVP’d so far?”
“The usual suspects.” Easton waved a hand, kneeling to pat Wilson, Patrick’s aging cocker spaniel. “Hey, boy. How ya doing? This hot sun too much for you?”
Patrick couldn’t stop his smile. Even in a suit and wingtips, East never hesitated to crouch down and wrangle with the dog, who’d planted both paws on his lap.
“He loves it,” Patrick said, shielding his eyes as he glanced up at the half-finished roof. He’d come back tomorrow and get it done, bright and early. It didn’t matter that it was Saturday. He owed her.
“So…usual suspects,” he said, hoping East would elaborate. Patrick wasn’t about to mention his brother’s assistant’s name. If East took umbrage at the question, Patrick didn’t have an explanation to give him.
