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Mrs. Mahoney held two wrapped shirt boxes. “Shook ’em,” she said. “Can’t tell much, though. Want me to open them?”
Meg stepped out. Instead of answering, she countered, “Have you called my mother yet?”
Mrs. Mahoney sniffed. “Before the big finale? Puh-lease!”
Finale? Meg frowned. “Why are these deliveries coming to your place, anyway?”
The woman merely smiled, shoved the boxes at Meg, and walked away. “I wondered when you were gonna think of that,” she said over her shoulder. “Maybe it’s ’cause the delivery man thinks you won’t open the door to him.”
Joe. She stepped out, shutting her door behind her. Glancing down the hall, she failed to see his lean form and dark hair.
He could have already left the building. Or he could be in the stairwell. Either way, curiosity made her open the first box right there outside her door. Tearing off the pretty paper, she saw something wrapped in tissue inside. There was a note taped to the tissue. Opening it, she read, “‘For you to wear whenever you go out, anywhere you damn well please.’”
More curious than ever, she opened the tissue and saw a mound of shiny tan spandex. Leaning down, she placed both boxes on the floor. Then she pulled out the fabric and held it up.
“Good Lord,” she muttered when she saw the slinkiest, tiniest, skimpiest dress she’d ever seen in her life. It was the color of skin, and would fit like it. The plunging V-neckline was lower than any dress she’d ever dreamed of wearing, and the slit would risk showing off anything its wearer had on underneath.
To wear in public? Sure. Right. As if that’d happen.
But, she acknowledged, at least he’d admitted she had the right to do so if she wished. A smile curled her lips and, in spite of herself, she felt her reservations slipping away.
Her heart pounding in earnest now, she reached for the other box and tore away the wrapping. Inside, another note was attached to the tissue paper covering some soft material. This one read, “For you to wear in our bed. I’ll want you no matter what, Meg.”
When she pulled out the white cotton item, she nearly choked. Joe had sent her the most prim, plain nightgown she had ever seen. It was the definition of frumpy, high-necked, loose and saggy, looking more suitable for a grandmother—or Mrs. Mahoney.
A bubble of laughter burst from her lips as she dropped the box to the floor. She had to lean against the wall and bend over to chuckle in pure delight.
He understands. Had he sent her red silk, or that blue teddy, she would have tossed them in the trash. But Joe knew her well enough to figure out exactly why she was so upset this morning, other than the lying. And to show her he knew he had no business dictating what she wore, where, and for him. His gifts proved it.
He wasn’t off the hook for lying. But at least he was admitting he would never try to own her, that he didn’t expect a frump on the street and a vamp in his bed.
Still grinning, she suddenly noticed someone standing a few feet away. She slowly lifted her gaze and saw Joe. His tender expression reinforced everything she already knew. “Thank you,” she whispered with a smile. “I think.”
“I know your neighbor—Mrs. Mahoney?—kept the flowers and the candy, so you didn’t get to read those notes,” he said quickly, as if afraid she wouldn’t listen. “The first one said ‘I’m sorry for being a letch who ogled you at Sheer Delights.’ The second said ‘I’m more sorry for not being honest from the start.’”
The third set of notes was just as important, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook just yet.
“You went to a lot of trouble. What if I hadn’t opened this one, either?”
“I would have kept right on going until Mrs. Mahoney had a stack of notes and gifts piled up in her apartment.”
Curious, she asked, “What would have come next?”
“Handcuffs.”
Her jaw dropped.
He quickly went on, as if knowing exactly where her mind had first gone. “Plus, a complete description of the plan my cop brother and I came up with to get even with Georgie the Goat.”
Flowers, chocolate, clothing and revenge? What a man. “It involves handcuffs?”
“And a real goat,” he said with an evil chuckle. “I’ll tell you all about it if you’ll let me.”
She tapped her index finger on her cheek. “Do I get to keep the cuffs afterward?”
He nodded again, a twinkle in his brown eyes. “You can keep anything you want, Meg…anything.”
Including him? Is that what he hadn’t said at the end of that sentence?
