Page 45 of Need You
“You can try them on behind the screen or in the bathroom.”
He opted for the bathroom and came out when he had them on.
“Stand up there.” She pointed to a little stage in front of a three-way mirror. She was bossy but he did what she said, feeling a little foolish.
“They fit great,” he said as she examined him with a discerning eye.
She stuck her fingers between the waistband of the shorts and his hips. Her hand felt good on his skin and he sucked in a breath.
“Yep, they do. I suppose if the designer thing doesn’t work out for me, I could make it as a tailor.”
“What are you talking about? These are the best damn shorts I ever had. Can you make me pants like these?”
She pretended to shudder. “I could. The question is why would I want to?”
“Because I’m a great neighbor and as soon as I change back into my jeans I’m taking you to dinner. The Indian place.”
“For most of the time I’ve lived here, you’ve been a lousy neighbor . . . whining incessantly about parking . . . bitching about my light,” she teased. “But I do like Indian food, so there may be a pair of pants in it for you.”
Colt enjoyed their banter. She didn’t shy away from giving him hell, which he liked. He sat in the chair next to her drafting table. “How long had Robert been here before I came over?”
“About twenty minutes. He’s probably still here ... somewhere. He drove up from LA.”
“Seems like a long way to come for a fight. Why not let the lawyers deal with it?”
“One of the reasons Robert’s a successful businessman is because he doesn’t take no for an answer. He wants the Delaney Scott name off merchandise that belongs to me . . . a clean break for his company. It’s confusing to consumers, especially since he has a new designer who will want to set a different tone for the house and put her mark on things.”
“It seemed pretty heated to me. He wouldn’t raise a hand to you, would he?”
“No. Never. We had our problems but never that.”
“You grew apart, right?” He figured there had to be more to it than that.
“Mm-hmm. So do we need a reservation at this Indian place?”
Nice subject change. “Nah. You’ve never been before?”
“I have; I just couldn’t remember whether you needed a reservation or not.”
He supposed that was his cue to get moving. “Let me put on my jeans.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she called to him. “I want to change too.”
He got into his pants and beat her to the living room, where he snooped around until she came down. She had a lot of nice things and way too many throw pillows. He could tell a lot of time had been put in to decorating the place whereas his idea of decorating was putting in a sixty-five-inch flat screen.
“You ready?” She came down the stairs in another one of her killer dresses and, man, did the woman have a pair of legs.
He didn’t want to stare, so he held the shorts up in front of his face. “I just want to drop these off at my house. I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to walk up my driveway in your shoes.”
She had on high heels. He didn’t usually go in for stilettos, preferring a woman in a pair of hiking boots. But the ones Delaney had on—red, strappy things—would fuel enough erotic fantasies to last him a lifetime.
“Too much?” she asked, and looked down at her feet. “They go with the dress.”
“They don’t exactly scream Glory Junction, but they’re sexy as hell. Did you design them?”
“I did,” she said, and beamed proudly.
“They’re a hell of a lot better than Robert’s Pee-wee Herman suit,” he said.
