Lingerie Wars (Invertary 1)

More giggles.

“Yeah, I’d rather you took care of me instead,” someone else said.

The bawdy laughter grew.

“Okay,” he said with an indulgent smile. “How about we start with some defensive moves and see where we go from there?”

There were whoops.

“Who wants to volunteer?”

Every hand in the room shot up.

Kirsty was torturing herself. It wasn’t pleasant. She’d been peeking out from behind her living room curtain for half an hour, watching the women in Invertary turn up for Lake’s stupid class. She kept telling herself it was none of her business. She’d drop the curtain and return to the couch, where her laptop and unfinished website waited. Five seconds later she was back peeking out the window. She wanted to know what he was doing to get some idea of what she had to compete against. Goodness knows everything she did to fight the man seemed to backfire. She didn’t have any more business now than she had a month ago. Yet he—she glared at Betty’s shop—had women flocking to his door. It drove her mad. By nine o’clock she couldn’t take it any longer. She put on her black trench coat, grabbed a black wool hat from the back of her hall closet and went to snoop.

It was dark in the alley behind Lake’s shop. She tripped over a rubbish bin and lunged to grab it before it hit the concrete paving. In Betty’s backyard, light spilled through windows high on the wall, making it easier to see. Quietly, Kirsty picked up one of the metal-framed patio chairs and put it against the wall. She stepped up onto it, went up on tiptoes and held on to the window ledge. She tried to think thoughts that would make her invisible as she peered into the room.

It was packed with smiling women. They’d been put into pairs and were practising throwing each other around. There was lots of shouting and angry faces, interspersed with the odd giggle. They seemed to be having fun. Kirsty was jealous. How was she supposed to compete with this? What could she offer? Nothing. That’s what. She was stuffed.

Lake was easy to spot. He wove in and out of the group adjusting their positions and giving advice. Without exception every woman he touched, or spoke to, blushed. Kirsty frowned. The man was a tart and he’d obviously dressed to tease. He wore black track trousers and a grey vest with some sort of army logo thing on it. His shoulders and upper arms were bare. Big, bare, bulging. It made her sick. Most of the women in there had only seen muscle like that on TV. No wonder their minds were mush. He was playing dirty. She scowled at him.

As though feeling her animosity, he turned towards her. His eyes went straight to the window. Straight to Kirsty. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. Kirsty’s eyes went wide. She jerked backwards and fell from the chair onto her backside on the ground. She scrambled to her feet and turned to sprint out of the yard, but tripped over a pile of wood. By the time she’d righted herself, the back door slammed. Kirsty squealed as she flung herself at the back gate. Her hand reached the latch as an arm wound around her waist.

“Uh-uh,” Lake said in her ear. “You don’t get off that easy.”

“Let me go,” Kirsty demanded.

Instead he turned and carted her back into his building.

“Kirsty has agreed to be the volunteer in the next demonstration,” Lake told the group when he entered the room.

“I did not,” Kirsty snapped as she wriggled out from his grip.

To her disgust, she was the focus of everyone’s attention and no doubt the main fodder for morning gossip. She smiled at everyone then turned towards the door. Lake took a step to block her exit.

“Get out of my way,” she said through clenched teeth.

“No.” He smiled for the women watching as he folded his arms. He was flashing those muscles again. “I caught you spying,” he said. “You’re now a prisoner of war. If you pay your penance and take part in one demonstration, you can leave. Otherwise...” He shrugged like it pained him. “Otherwise, there’

s going to be a scene.”

Kirsty chewed her lip. She didn’t want to be the laughing stock of Invertary. No one would take her shop seriously if that were the case. And the people in Invertary had a long memory. She was still trying to live down the episode with a pot of glue and her teacher’s chair—and that was twenty years earlier.

“You can’t force me to stay,” she said.

“Yes, I can.”

She’d amused him again.

“One demonstration in return for freedom,” he said. “Come on, Kirsty—I’ll show you something cool.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Your etchings?”

He smiled.

“That’s funny, but I’ve got something far more impressive than that.”