“We have to call Colin,” Ariel whispered.
“Mike would be dead by the time he got here.” Sara looked at Ariel in her long skirt and silk top. “We need to distract them. What do you have on under there?”
Ariel gave a half smile of understanding and turned her back to Sara so she could untie her laces. “There’s a little shop across from the New York Public Library, the big one, run by a tiny Frenchwoman. You can’t believe the lingerie she carries. And it’s all altered to fit you perfectly.” Her voice was too fast as she worked to cover her fear.
“Really?” Sara asked. Her hands were shaking. “If you can … If you can get one of those men to follow you to the barn, there’s a trap there.” Sara tried to think of the objective and not about what could happen to Ariel if she got an armed man to follow her. She explained about the trap and the trip wire across the door, and she told her about the loft and Mike swinging down on the rope.
When Ariel’s dress was loosened, she turned around and began pushing the heavy gown off her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. Quit worrying about me.” When the dress was puddled at her feet, Ariel was wearing a black silk corset with tiny red ribbons threaded through the top, and black panties that covered only half of her firm derriere. Her long legs were bare.
“I’m glad I don’t wear the granny pants that you do.”
“Ariel, why don’t you try being nice? You might like it.” Since Sara had made her own costume she’d fixed it so it was easy on and off. She’d concealed Velcro under the front seam of the gown, and now she quickly opened it. When she’d dressed that morning she’d thought of rewarding Mike for winning the games, so she’d put on some underwear he hadn’t seen. Her white corset, white underpants, and the white stockings that reached midthigh were certainly a match for Ariel’s outfit.
Ariel leaned back against the house. “So here we are, outfitted for a day at the Chicken Ranch, but now what do we do?”
In the next second, the question was answered for them when they heard shots in the distance.
Ariel and Sara looked at each other. “Mitzi,” they said in unison. She had escaped her ties and found Mike’s weapons.
“Go to the other side of the house,” Sara said. “I’ll let Greg see me.”
Seconds later, the sound of the shots brought Greg and one of the bodyguards onto the porch. When Sara, in her white underwear, appeared at one side, both men looked at her in surprise.
On the opposite side there was a loud noise, like a big rock hitting the side of the house. The bodyguard went to see what it was, and there was Ariel, tall, slim, and in a black silk corset. He didn’t even think to fire, just stood there looking at her.
Smiling seductively at him, Ariel took a step backward.
The man glanced at his boss, but Greg only had eyes for Sara. “It’s a woman,” the man said.
“Go after her,” Greg growled. “This one is mine.”
The bodyguard jumped off the porch and ran after Ariel.
Sara turned around and started running, but she couldn’t outrun Greg. He caught her just as she reached the gravel yard in front of the old coach house.
She prepared herself for a blow, but it didn’t come. When she looked at him his face had taken on an expression of great sadness and hurt. It was a look she knew well. He’d used it many times when talking about his former girlfriends—the ones who’d betrayed him and made him cautious of all women.
As Sara watched him, she was struck by how emotions could change in an instant. A month ago, when Greg had looked at her with his sad, poor-me face, her heart had gone out to him. How could she possibly complain about anything he ever did? How could she add to the hurt he’d already experienced? Whatever she’d been about to question or complain about, she’d stopped. She didn’t want it said about her that she’d ever hurt anyone—and she’d wanted to prove to Greg that not all women were as greedy, selfish, and manipulating as his previous girlfriends had been.
But now Sara saw that the feel-sorry-for-me look Greg was wearing wasn’t real, and she wondered how she could ever have been so lacking in self-esteem that she had believed him.
What she wanted to do was tell him what she knew about him, but there was a gun stuck in his waistband, and she knew she couldn’t do that. It was better to placate him, not make him angry.
Instead, she was going to do her best to use his giant ego against him. She willed the anger to leave her as she nearly fell against Greg, her arms around his torso. “Oh, Greg, my darling, it’s been so awful while you were gone. You can’t believe the lies people told me about you. But I didn’t believe a word of them.”
Her breath was held, waiting for him to believe her or … to shoot her. After what seemed like minutes, he put his arms around her.
“Sara,” he said cautiously. “Why are you here and why don’t you have on any clothes?”
“I was at the fair and Mr. Lang told me you were here.”
“Lang?”
She pulled away to look at him. “Yes. Mr. Lang said you were here waiting for me and that you wanted to see me, so of course I came immediately. After I got here, I was at my car and I was changing out of my fair costume when I heard what sounded like gunshots. I was afraid Mr. Lang had his shotgun and he was after you so I came just as I was.”
“Why did you run when I saw you?”
“You looked so angry at my dishabille.”