Her Secret Life
Michael was clearly aware of her desirability. Just... He was clearly aware of it. Somehow she couldn’t get beyond that thought.
“Well...”
“I could be wrong,” he said before she could form a coherent sentence in her mind, or out loud. “I don’t want you walking into this expecting him to be fine with it and be shocked if he does break up with you.”
More relationship advice than she’d ever received from Michael.
She latched on to his last words. “I’m not going to be shocked,” she told him. “I’ve made my decision knowing full well I could lose him over it.”
A firm rap sounded on her door. She had fifteen minutes. Ten before someone came in to check her hair and makeup.
Holding the phone between her shoulder and her ear—she didn’t want to put it on speaker and risk being heard from the other side of the wall—she slipped out of her robe, grabbed the skintight leggings with built-in panty liner and pulled them on, her breasts right there in the open.
With Michael on the other end of the line. She looked in the mirror. Sweat drops popped out on her upper lip.
Which was definitely not okay.
“So...why have you been tense all day?” She didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but figured it was better than anything else that could have slipped out. With her back to the mirror, she yanked the leggings up a little farther.
“If I promise to tell you about it another time, will you let it go for now?”
Over her thighs and across her backside. “As long as you admit it wasn’t the coffee.”
“It was not the coffee. Frankly, I’m not sure what it was. I’ve been irritated since I got out of bed this morning.”
In her experience with men, that meant one thing. Michael needed sex.
She reached for
the black-and-white leopard-patterned top with built-in cups. It hugged every part of her as she slid it over her head and down past her thighs. Her nipples were hard.
She’d been naked and cold, that’s why. And she only had five minutes to get the lace-up black leather boots in place before she was descended upon.
She heard footsteps in the hallway.
“I don’t have any good news to report,” Michael was saying, as though he thought that was the reason for her call. “Last night’s photo was posted from the same shop as the first. But it could have been remotely. The shop’s not open at three in the morning. It also could have been scheduled earlier to post at that time.”
The coffee shop was just down the street from her. How creepy was that? He said it was possible someone had hacked her over public Wi-Fi.
“I haven’t been at the shop at all this week,” she told him, expecting to be interrupted any second and needing more time with him.
“Doesn’t matter. If that’s what happened, they got what they needed the first time.”
“So...can we get a look at the footage from security cameras?” She was in television. She knew the ropes back and forth and sideways, too. “Not without a warrant,” she said before he could. “But can we get one?”
“No real harm’s been done, Kace.” His tone was sympathetic, but firm. “The police aren’t going to be able to do anything at this point. And you risk tipping off whoever is behind this. We might never figure it out.”
She absolutely didn’t want that.
“Can I call you later?” she asked. That was what she did want.
“Of course.”
“And...Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be in town all weekend...my folks are there with Levi, remember? Can we, maybe...squeeze in a meet?”