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Authors: Pamela Clare
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had taken to playing with the antique perfume bottles on her vanity.
“It’s mascara. It makes women’s eyelashes longer and darker.” She searched through the hideous assortment of work clothes hanging in her closet and reached for the black velvet dress she’d worn to last year’s Christmas party.
“Why do women want their eyelashes to be longer?”
“Because we’re silly and think longer, darker eyelashes will make men fall in love with us.” She slipped the dress over her head, pulled it down over her hips, and looked in the mirror. The soft material clung to her skin, while the plunging princess neckline made it seem like she had breasts. But would he think she was wearing it to impress him? She certainly didn’t want him to think she’d put any special effort into getting ready for this date.
“Is a man going to fall in love with you?”
She turned sideways and gazed at her profile. “Apparently not in this lifetime.”
The doorbell rang.
Her heart gave a violent leap, and she hurried to her bedroom window.
The baby-sitter.
“Come, Connor. Sierra’s here.”
Kara quickly filled Sierra in on the basics—how long to heat Connor’s mac and cheese in the microwave, which DVDs he liked most these days, how to reach her in case of trouble—while trying to ignore the way the teenager constantly flicked the metal in her newly pierced tongue against her teeth. She had just slipped into a pair of black tights and Victorian-style boots when the doorbell rang again.
Pulse racing, she took one last look in the mirror and touched up her lipstick.
What in the world were you thinking, McMillan?
She turned away from her reflection, forced herself to take a deep breath, and walked down the hallway to answerthe door, trying to pretend that she was like Holly and went on dates with gorgeous men every night.
Another man, another night.
She opened the door and forgot to be nervous, forgot to think, forgot to breathe.
He stood outside in his long gray overcoat, a smile on his firm, sensual lips. “Kara.”
Despite the cold, his coat was unbuttoned, giving her a glimpse of the crisp, white shirt, burgundy silk tie, and charcoal tailored slacks he wore beneath it.
If he ever gets tired of politics, he can always model for Playgirl.
The thought flickered through her mind and then vanished as embarrassment set in.
“Reece. Come in out of the cold. I’ll just get my coat.” She opened the door for him and walked down the hallway to the coat closet. She had just pulled her dress coat from its hanger when Conner came bouncing out of her bedroom and down the hallway with something in his hand.
“Mommy, what’s this jiggle stick?”
She looked up to see her son standing not two feet away from Reece with her purple jelly vibrator in his hand. And he was shaking it, making it waggle back and forth.
“Oh, my God! Connor!” Blood rushed to her face, and she grabbed it from her son’s hands. “Give me that!”
If she could have vanished from the face of the earth in that instant she would have gladly done so. Unable to meet Reece’s gaze and ignoring Sierra’s amused giggles, she hurried down the hallway, feeling utterly and completely humiliated.
Beautiful, McMillan! Now Senator Reece Sheridan has seen your vibrator!
There was absolutely no chance that he had mistaken it for anything but a sex toy because the damned thing looked just like a penis.
A huge, purple penis.
A huge, purple, veined penis, for God’s sake!
Her insides withered and shrank, and she wondered for a moment if she could barricade herself in her bedroom and stay there forever.
Then she saw that her sock drawer was open. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. Connor had been with her while she’d been putting on her tights. She must have left the drawer open. And he’d found her vibrator lying on top—right where she’d left it last night after fantasizing about a certain state senator.
She dropped the device
“It’s mascara. It makes women’s eyelashes longer and darker.” She searched through the hideous assortment of work clothes hanging in her closet and reached for the black velvet dress she’d worn to last year’s Christmas party.
“Why do women want their eyelashes to be longer?”
“Because we’re silly and think longer, darker eyelashes will make men fall in love with us.” She slipped the dress over her head, pulled it down over her hips, and looked in the mirror. The soft material clung to her skin, while the plunging princess neckline made it seem like she had breasts. But would he think she was wearing it to impress him? She certainly didn’t want him to think she’d put any special effort into getting ready for this date.
“Is a man going to fall in love with you?”
She turned sideways and gazed at her profile. “Apparently not in this lifetime.”
The doorbell rang.
Her heart gave a violent leap, and she hurried to her bedroom window.
The baby-sitter.
“Come, Connor. Sierra’s here.”
Kara quickly filled Sierra in on the basics—how long to heat Connor’s mac and cheese in the microwave, which DVDs he liked most these days, how to reach her in case of trouble—while trying to ignore the way the teenager constantly flicked the metal in her newly pierced tongue against her teeth. She had just slipped into a pair of black tights and Victorian-style boots when the doorbell rang again.
Pulse racing, she took one last look in the mirror and touched up her lipstick.
What in the world were you thinking, McMillan?
She turned away from her reflection, forced herself to take a deep breath, and walked down the hallway to answerthe door, trying to pretend that she was like Holly and went on dates with gorgeous men every night.
Another man, another night.
She opened the door and forgot to be nervous, forgot to think, forgot to breathe.
He stood outside in his long gray overcoat, a smile on his firm, sensual lips. “Kara.”
Despite the cold, his coat was unbuttoned, giving her a glimpse of the crisp, white shirt, burgundy silk tie, and charcoal tailored slacks he wore beneath it.
If he ever gets tired of politics, he can always model for Playgirl.
The thought flickered through her mind and then vanished as embarrassment set in.
“Reece. Come in out of the cold. I’ll just get my coat.” She opened the door for him and walked down the hallway to the coat closet. She had just pulled her dress coat from its hanger when Conner came bouncing out of her bedroom and down the hallway with something in his hand.
“Mommy, what’s this jiggle stick?”
She looked up to see her son standing not two feet away from Reece with her purple jelly vibrator in his hand. And he was shaking it, making it waggle back and forth.
“Oh, my God! Connor!” Blood rushed to her face, and she grabbed it from her son’s hands. “Give me that!”
If she could have vanished from the face of the earth in that instant she would have gladly done so. Unable to meet Reece’s gaze and ignoring Sierra’s amused giggles, she hurried down the hallway, feeling utterly and completely humiliated.
Beautiful, McMillan! Now Senator Reece Sheridan has seen your vibrator!
There was absolutely no chance that he had mistaken it for anything but a sex toy because the damned thing looked just like a penis.
A huge, purple penis.
A huge, purple, veined penis, for God’s sake!
Her insides withered and shrank, and she wondered for a moment if she could barricade herself in her bedroom and stay there forever.
Then she saw that her sock drawer was open. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. Connor had been with her while she’d been putting on her tights. She must have left the drawer open. And he’d found her vibrator lying on top—right where she’d left it last night after fantasizing about a certain state senator.
She dropped the device
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