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eting to one of the half-dozen elegantly outfitted saleswomen who are all busy with other customers. Glad for the privacy to browse on my own, I head toward the section in the back of the shop where the prettiest items are on display in mirrored glass alcoves and stacked glass drawers.
I’m immediately drawn to one of the bra and panty sets I saw in the window. Both comprised of delicate champagne lace and see-through mesh, each piece is embroidered with burgundy satin roses and dainty ribbon trim. The effect is sweetly innocent, yet decadently sexy.
“Lovely, isn’t it?”
I turn to find one of the sales attendants approaching. The pretty black woman who smiled at me when I came in. She walks toward me with the fluid grace of a runway model, her stylish, slender figure, high cheekbones, and arresting light green eyes completing the effect.
I nod as she comes to stand beside me at the display. “It’s perfect.”
“Would you like to try them on? I’m Evelyn. I’ll be happy to help you find your sizes and show you to a fitting room.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I tell her what I wear, then, after retrieving my sizes from within a pair of locked drawers, she brings me into a serene private dressing area that’s practically the size of my old studio apartment in Brooklyn.
Evelyn carefully places the bra and panties on a glass vanity table. Next to it is a taupe velvet upholstered bench seat sitting atop a soft rug woven in a feminine pattern of soothing neutrals. Large mirrors and soft, boudoir lighting ensure every angle is presented in the most complimentary fashion.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Evelyn says.
I sit down on the cushioned bench and skate my fingers over the barely-there translucent lace cups of the bra, shivering at the thought of Nick doing the same while I’m wearing it. He’ll love this, I’m sure. And I’m excited at the idea of watching him unwrap me later tonight and discovering my surprise.
Excited, that is, until I see the price.
Nearly a thousand dollars for the two pieces.
If Evelyn catches my disappointed look, her expression never falters. “You have excellent taste. This set is part of our signature collection. It’s a classic that will look beautiful on you for years to come.” When I only nod in response, she smiles kindly and gestures toward the front of the boutique. “If you don’t feel this one suits you, we have something similar in our everyday collection that you might like too. Just let me know if you’d like to take a look.”
“Thank you.” At that same moment, my phone chimes with an incoming call. Nick’s ringtone. I reach into my purse to retrieve it. “Sorry.”
“Take your time,” Evelyn says. She gestures to a brass hand bell sitting on the vanity. “If you need anything, just ring for me.”
She walks away, closing the dressing room door behind her as I swipe the screen on my phone and answer Nick’s call. “Hi.”
“I’ve been thinking about you all morning.”
Just the sound of his deep, raspy voice makes my pulse kick into a faster tempo. I glance at the decadent lacy underthings in front of me and smile wistfully. “I’m thinking about you too.”
He makes a low, approving noise in the back of his throat. “Tell me more. Are you touching yourself while you’re thinking of me?”
I laugh softly, a flush warming my cheeks. “Not at the moment. I don’t think it would be appropriate.”
“You know how I feel about being appropriate,” he murmurs, and I can picture the wry twist of his mouth as he speaks. “Where are you?”
“On my way back from Vendange. I popped in on Tasha for a little while.”
“I hear music in the background.”
“I’m in a boutique on Madison.”
“Which one?”
“L’opale.”
“Nice,” he says after a brief pause. “Find anything you like?”
I try to ignore the fact that he seems so readily familiar with the store. I know he’s had a sex life before me, but the idea of him buying any of these things for another woman puts a pang of jealousy in my breast.
“Avery?”
