Page 14 of Guilty as Sin

It rang in her hand.

“Hi, baby,” Paige said. “I was just calling you. I’m trying to figure out underwear. Do you have anything that isn’t a thong?”

“I’m doing the same thing,” Lily said. “Do you have anything that isn’t a sports bra? Please?”

“Comfortable,” Paige said. “Supportive.”

“Ugly. Uniboob.”

“Well, there’s that. Ooh. This is all right.” Paige lifted out a blush-colored garment with a little more substance to it.

“The cheekster ones,” Lily said. “Yes. Those will be good for you.”

Paige, who’d been putting them on in front of the mirrored door, paused with her thumbs still in the waistband. “That’s what I just decided. Whoa. That’s booty time.” She turned and looked over her shoulder at her rear view. “I could definitely find some company in these. Bra?” She opened the second drawer down and put her hand on it. “Never mind. I found it. You wearing the black things? They’re not sports-related. Not a sport I’ve been playing, at least.”

“I just put them on,” Lily said, not needing to comment on how Paige knew, any more than Paige did. “How did it go with the goats? How are my babies doing? And did Brett Hunter get in touch yet?”

“Goats are fine. And nope. Unless…” Paige stopped in the act of shoving hangers aside and trying not to be overwhelmed by too many choices. “What does he look like?” Something had been odd about Mr. Milker. A whole lot of holding back, that hint of darkness under the surface.

“I told you. Good-looking. Dark.”

“Tall? Uh… dominant?”

“I told you he was.”

Paige expelled her breath, trying to ignore how good the skimpy bra and underwear looked in the mirror and how much her body wanted somebody else to see it, too. Preferably somebody not quite tamed. “Is he Australian?”

“Australian?No. Of course not. Why would he be Australian?”

Paige put the phone on speaker and set it on the top of the dresser before pulling on an underdress—slip—whatever—that wouldn’t have survived the first training exercise. Long enough to cover her scars, though, which was important. “So who’s tall, built, got black hair, and knows how to milk goats?”

“Is this a riddle?”

“No. Showed up this morning. Out running. With a Ridgeback. Dog,” she clarified.

“Oh. That’s the one I told you about. My neighbor. Hairy. Glares at you. He knows how to milk goats? He’s Australian? How do you know?”

“How? Because he told me. But he didn’t tell me his name.”

“He talked to you? About goats? Literally all he does is glare at me. I don’t know his name. I don’t think he likes women.”

Paige sighed and adjusted the slip. “You know what? I’m pretty sure you’re wrong. But I guess that means I don’t get to lick him all over.” Ooh. She’d bet he’d lickher.He’d looked like he had enough self-control for anything. For everything. She smoothed a hand down her side, gliding over silken material all the way to her hip, and that electricity zapped her again as if the body lotion had conductive powers.

Lily said, “You’re kidding.”

“Yeah, well, never mind. Next time, though, I’m going on vacation where I don’t have to behave myself.”

Alarm in Lily’s voice. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea. Look, I’ll come home. You can just be my… my moral support for the meeting. Then you can do whatever you want, too.”

“No, I was just joking. I’m warming up to use all our combined powers on Brett Hunter, that’s all. Don’t worry. I’m being you, I promise.” Well, almost.

“Are you sure? Because I can come home. Really.”

“No. I’m fine.” Paige pulled on the over-part of the dress and grabbed a pair of sandals that looked like they went. There. Good. Feminine. “What are you doing today?”

“Oh.” Lily paused a minute, then said, “Shopping. Window-shopping, anyway, walking around Union Square. Being lazy. You’re sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. I’m dressed. I’m you. I’m on it.” Out of the closet-room and down the stairs with the sandals in one hand.