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She’d deliberately worn her Bridget Jones underwear. Knickers that came right up to under her bust and an old white bra her mother had bought for her, claiming it had great lift and support. What it had was five hooks on the back and the ugliest white cups she’d ever seen. If Derek got randy, then this is what he’d see – the passion-killer combo.

“Isn’t the green dress a little sexy?” Marianne squinted at it.

“It’s a lot sexy, but it’s the one he said he wanted me to wear. I don’t want to upset him. I have a lot on the line.”

“So tell him it’s dirty.”

“That’s lying, Marianne, shame on you.”

“You are such a minister’s daughter,” Marianne said with a roll of her eyes; then she picked up a half-full cup of cold coffee and threw it at the dress. Davina gasped.

“Now it’s the truth,” she said triumphantly.

“You better hope that stain comes out of there,” Davina told her, grateful and shocked at the same time. “So what do I wear now?”

“How about jeans and a sweater?”

“Derek said I have the sexiest rear in jeans.”

“What about that old pair of dungarees you keep for painting?”

“It’s dinner out, Mar,” Davina said patiently.

“It’s blackmail.”

“Yeah, well that too.”

They stared into her closet.

“You know, you have a lot of figure-hugging clothes,” Marianne said. She sounded depressed then she perked up. “I know,” she said with a grin, “wear my clothes.”

Davina looked at her excited face then down at her clothes. They were awful. An A-line grey wool skirt that sat mid-calf, a white blouse that buttoned to the neck and a cardigan that was at least two sizes too big.

“Those are truly awful clothes,” Davina said.

“I know, I got them in the secondhand shop — they screamed spinster accountant.”

“You were thumbing your nose at your dad again, weren’t you?”

“That’s what he gets for bullying me into working for him. Actually, he deserves a lot more for bullying me into becoming an accountant. So what do you say? This unsexy enough for you?”

“Absolutely.” She hugged her best friend tight.

“Great, and I can go home dressed like a tart,” Marianne said. “That should give him a heart attack.”

“I’m going to ignore the comment about my clothes being tarty and beg you again to leave home. Seriously, I don’t care how much money you save staying there, it’s time to run away.”

“Don’t worry,” Marianne said as she took off her hideous clothes. “I have a long-term plan.”

Davina rolled her eyes. Marianne always had a plan.

“How do I look?” she said once she was dressed as Marianne.

“Awful,” Marianne giggled. She’d squeezed into one of Davina’s Lycra tube dresses.

Davina had to admit she did look awful. She tied her hair up into a tight bun, kept her makeup to a minimum and wore her flattest black boots. She was done.

“Do you know what’s pathetic?” Marianne said. “You still look sexy in that.”