The Elliotts: Bedroom Secrets: Under Deepest Cover. Barbara Dunlop

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      He didn’t dislike Sharon, for she’d been tolerant enough to him and his brother, Cullen, two boisterous stepsons. But she didn’t give him any warm fuzzies, and she’d been pretty obstinate about the divorce.

      She drifted away to shop, and Bryan found himself alone, staring at the wide array of sexy lingerie. Each thing he looked at—each bra and panty set, each nightie, each thong—he couldn’t help but picture on Lucy.

      He’d been hoping last night was just a fluke, that he’d merely been turned on by the glamorous trappings Lucy had displayed. But when he’d seen her this morning, he’d known it was something far deeper than clothes or hair color that attracted him to Lucy Miller.

      Lucy had an inner core of goodness that radiated from her. He’d never met anyone like her. He, on the other hand, was part of an ugly, shadowy world. Their two worlds were colliding, but that contact could only be temporary. She didn’t belong in his, nor he in hers. He had to remember that.

      Lucy reappeared a few minutes later. “Is she gone?”

      He nodded. Sharon had grabbed a slinky black nightgown, paid for it and left without a backward glance. He wondered if she would find an excuse to call his dad and report what she’d seen. Despite the pending divorce, Sharon loved to gossip. “I’ll put those up for you,” he said to Lucy, holding out his arms. “You can go back to the nightshirts.”

      “No, thanks. I want these.”

      He looked again at the slinky, transparent fabrics and daring, skin-revealing styles of the nightgowns she held, and his jeans grew noticeably tighter in the crotch. He did not need to think about Lucy wearing those!

      Five

      Lucy wore her ice-blue nightgown to bed that night. She felt sexy in it, which made her think of things she probably shouldn’t. But she couldn’t make herself clamp down on her fantasies. She’d spent two years seeing herself as a nonsexual being, and she didn’t want to return to that. It was wonderful being able to feel again, even if some of those feelings were painful.

      In the morning she dressed in a pair of pink exercise shorts, a sports bra, a pink tank top with the word Diva across the chest, and her new running shoes. She wore a terry sweatband to keep her hair out of her face.

      Bryan was waiting for her when she emerged, grinding beans in his futuristic coffeepot.

      “Ready?” he asked, looking pointedly at her bare legs. At least he wasn’t focusing on her chest, or lack thereof. She’d gotten used to the cleavage her fancy push-up bras produced, but those bras weren’t practical for running.

      “I’m ready, but I warn you, I’m out of shape.”

      “We’ll take it easy.”

      Five minutes later Lucy was thinking, If this is easy, I’d hate to see rigorous. She was huffing and puffing like a leaky accordion, her every muscle protesting. She’d had no idea she was in such bad condition.

      To his credit, Bryan said nothing, just loped along beside her, breathing normally.

      After a few minutes Lucy got into a rhythm and she felt a little better. She started to pay attention to the sights around her, the people hurrying to catch a bus or taxi, the bagel vendors, the honking horns and flocks of pigeons.

      Oh, how she loved this city. She hadn’t, however, often seen it at this hour of the morning. The In Tight crew was accustomed to starting the day around noon. Mornings, she discovered, had the same energy, but also a feeling of anticipation, of possibilities.

      “You doing okay?” Bryan asked.

      She nodded.

      They veered into Central Park where they joined dozens of other morning joggers. Lucy dropped back a little so she could run behind Bryan and enjoy the view. He had the most gorgeous, tanned, muscular legs she’d ever seen, and a tight butt she wanted more than anything to grab. She giggled and almost choked to death because she didn’t have the spare oxygen for laughter.

      She stopped and coughed a few times, and Bryan, looking concerned, tapped her on the back until she was better.

      “Maybe we should head back,” he said.

      She nodded, unable to speak.

      “That was really good for a first time out.”

      She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and her heart did a little plonk. She wished he wouldn’t be so nice to her. She wished she wasn’t just a job to him, a responsibility to be taken care of. She wished they’d met some other way, and maybe they could go out on a date like normal people.

      Her life was pretty far from normal.

      She was sweating like an ox by the time they made it back to Bryan’s building. Instead of going straight up, they swung into Une Nuit. Bryan introduced her to his manager, Stash, a charming man with a French accent who eyed her speculatively as Bryan put together a plate of pastries.

      “This the one, eh?” he said.

      “This is the one,” Bryan confirmed, flashing a slightly embarrassed smile.

      The one? What the heck did that mean?

      Lucy looked around the huge commercial kitchen, which appeared to her like a forest of stainless steel, everything impeccably clean and sparkly. Three men and one woman wearing tall chef’s hats bustled around preparing the day’s menu, all joking and laughing in good-natured camaraderie.

      This would be a fun place to work, she caught herself thinking. Not like Alliance Trust, where no one cracked a smile or spoke above a whisper, and the only smells were of new carpet and money. Honestly, that place was like a mausoleum.

      “You want to see the rest of it?” Bryan asked, apparently noting her interest.

      “Oh, yes, please.”

      He led her through a wide, swinging, double door into the main dining room, flipping on a couple of light switches as they went. The decor was nothing short of seductive. Low red lighting illuminated the copper-topped tables, which were surrounded by black suede banquettes and armchairs. Tables and booths were tucked away at odd angles in little corners, and she imagined the famous people who ate here enjoyed the sense of privacy.

      The floor was black-and-red stone—marble, or maybe something else. Contemporary wrought-iron chandeliers hung here and there, each one different, each one a work of art.

      “Wow, this is beautiful. Did you decorate it yourself?”

      “No, I hired a design firm. They did my loft, too. I can’t take credit for that. Except some of the artwork.”

      “It’s wonderful. Can we eat here some time?” She nearly swooned at the idea of an intimate dinner with Bryan. Since they would be in public, they would have to act like a couple in love. It wouldn’t be too difficult for her.

      “You can eat here anytime you like. Stash will take care of you.”

      That wasn’t really what she wanted to hear. She wanted Bryan to be the one taking care СКАЧАТЬ