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"And for fuck's sake, let's find some pubs to visit along the way," I said. The waiter dropped our tab on the table and I took a moment to glare at the total. "There's no reason to shopsober."
"Okay, then," Sam murmured. "I guess I'lldrive."
I pushed the tab toward him. "You're paying,too."
Iglancedup at the brownstone's front window but dropped my gaze when I noticed the corseted mannequin. I didn't know the rules for this. I'd never shopped for unmentionables before and I wasn't convinced I was up to thetask.
"Well?" Matt gestured to the short stone staircase leading to the shop's door. "Are we going in or would you boys rather stay out here and freeze your dicks off on the sidewalk allafternoon?"
"I'm going in." Sam moved past us and climbed the stairs. "And let's try to be as normal as possibletoday."
Matt clapped me on the back, nodding. "He's talking toyou."
"I can't see why," I replied as I trailed them up thesteps.
"Because you're scowling and you look like you want to rip the doors off the hinges," Samsaid.
"And I wouldn't be surprised if you asked a saleswoman her cup size," Mattadded.
"I wouldneverdo that," I hissed as we steppedinside.
"I'm not getting involved in that debate," Sam murmured. He held up his hands, demanding our attention. "Here's the plan. We're going to divide and conquer without crossing swords. No need to talk or make eyecontact."
"I had no idea that you're both raving lunatics," Matt murmured. "Or whichever brand of psychosis thisis."
Sam ignored him and barreled on. "Patrick, you're staying in the front section with the robes and scarves. You're going to ease in, and work your way up to the goodstuff."
"I'm not even close to drunk enough for this," Isaid.
This time, Sam ignored me as he continued with his game plan. "Matt is going to start over there, at that table with all thepanties."
"I was really hoping to die before hearing either of you utter the wordpanties," I said. "I'm running out of goals over here,guys."
"Panties," Sam repeated. "While you two go to your corners, I'm going to the back wall to look at—at—at—my wife picking out a black leathercorset."
I followed Sam's gaze, but it wasn't the woman wearing the bright blue dress with tiny silver stars who caught my attention. It was the mass of dark, curly hair beside her. "My fiancée seems to favor the red satinvariety."
"Do you think the dressing rooms are reasonably private?" Sam asked. "I don't need a soundproof room or anything. Just a closeddoor."
I pointed at the ceiling in a vague gesture toward the late eighties Sade song pounding from the speakers. "Yes."
"We've made it weird." Matt stepped between us. "I'm going to look at those panties now," he said, "and only the panties. I'm gonna keep my head down and I'm probably gonna look like a perv since I'll be fondling underwear with single-minded focus but I don't want to see anything else until we're done. Someone holler when it's time toleave."
Iwentafter Andy without a single idea of what I'd say or do once I had her attention. And I didn't care who was watching. I followed her around the corner and down a shadowy corridor lined with large oil paintings. They were filthy, but in the most tastefully depravedway.
She knew I was a few steps behind. The grin she tossed over her shoulder was proof of it. That, and she didn't close the door when she stepped into the last dressingroom.
"Hello there," she said when I closed the door. I kept my hand pressed there. I wasn't sure whether I was holding it shut or holding myself steady. "We don't meet like this oftenenough."
Drawing a breath to cool the tension pumping through my body, I pushed away from the door and leaned back against the wall. "I thought you were shopping forkitchenware."
Andy turned her attention to arranging her items on the rack, shuffling the bras, panties, and other lacy bits that defied naming conventions. The red corset that started all of this. She selected a nothing of lace that would meet with certain death under my hands and studied it carefully. "I can use this in the kitchen," shesaid.
Her gaze was easy, as if we were standing in the middle of a paint store and comparing shades of gray rather than a velvet-draped sinemporium.
She looked up at me then—finally—and the smile tugging at her lips was nothing short of devious. I lunged for her, batting the lacy fire starter out of her grip and seizing her hips. "If you think you're wearing that in the kitchen, you're not going to get much cookingdone."
Her fingers scraped up my neck and into my hair, forcing a shiver from her touch. She knew how to bring me to heel, and I loved it. It wasn't even funny how much this woman owned me. How much I wanted her to ownme.
