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Libby hesitated as she glanced between her phone and Reagan. “I really hate to bail like this. It’s just Taylor…”
Reaching out, Reagan placed her hand on Libby’s forearm. “Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me.
I’m glad you made it all the way to Hialeah without bursting into flames.”
Libby laughed. “Well, GPS helps.” When her phone buzzed again, her smile disappeared. “I really have to run,”
she said with open disappointment before closing the gap
between them and kissing her cheek. A moment later, the door chime beeped, and Libby was gone.
“I didn’t know you’d settled down with anyone,” Mary said as she returned to the dressing room where Reagan was still looking at the front door.
“You know I’m an international lady of mystery,” she replied, sidestepping the question.
“If you really want to make a splash with my creation, I have one suggestion.” Mary’s grin was wry and devilish.
“It’s a bit bold, but I think your lady friend will like it. Based on how she described her dress to me, I think it will be a perfect compliment.”
Without hesitation, Reagan nodded. “Let’s do it. How much do I owe you?”
“No worries. Your Cassanova’s got you covered. Pretty and generous. Did you win the lottery?”
Reagan laughed. “To be determined.”
C H A P T E R 9
DRESSED IN A WHITE, ru ed, one shoulder dress, Libby took a deep breath and pulled her SUV alongside a nearly dilapidated looking factory in a ghost town of an industrial neighborhood. If it wasn’t for Reagan’s very unique pickup truck parked outside, she’d be sure her directions were wrong.
At least I’ve got an hour till sunset, she thought, glancing in the rearview mirror as if a zombie hoard might round the corner any second.
In the moments she spent waiting for Reagan to emerge, her palms started sweating and her empty stomach twisted in knots. Her mind raced with worries. What if they weren’t believable as a couple?
As she imagined the catastrophe of being confronted by an angry mob and accused of being a fraud, Reagan appeared from behind a huge metal door. The light perspiration in her palms turned into a flood. She knew she should stop staring at the woman striding toward her car, but she couldn’t look away. Instead of the tuxedo shirt she’d worn at the shop, Reagan had ditched the shirt all together. The jacket now o ered a plunging neckline exposing modest cleavage and half her flat tummy. With slicked back hair, newly tanned
skin, and professionally applied make-up, Reagan was literally stunning.
Smirking as she approached the car, Reagan had to pull on the handle twice before Libby registered it was locked.
“Sorry,” she said, face flushed with heat as she ran her hand over the controls on the driver’s side door and found the unlock button.
“Too much?” Reagan asked before she slipped into the car. “I have this double-sided tape,” she explained as she ran her fingers over the swell of her chest where the fabric kissed her skin and threatened to expose too much. “But I’m not convinced. Mary said they’ll hold, but I can put on the shirt if you don’t think this looks right.”
“No! You look amazing,” Libby blurted, her gaze lingering on her cleavage as she stood trapped somewhere between envy and intrigue.
Reagan looked up from inspecting her outfit and quirked an eyebrow. “Not too try-hard?”
Shaking her head, Libby smirked. “Just the right amount of e ort.”
“Are you sure this is up to snu ? You look like a Hollywood starlet right out of a silent movie.”
Libby chuckled and lightly patted her curled hair. She wasn’t convinced when her hairdresser talked her into a curly updo, but the look was growing on her. “Now if I can just manage to keep this blood red lipstick from getting on the white dress, we’ll be golden.”
Reagan laughed as she stepped into the front passenger seat. “I’ll do my best to keep those red lips where you want them.”
As they pulled out onto the main road heading toward the highway, Libby watched Reagan from the corner of her eye.
She reclined in her seat like she was completely at ease in a
