If the Stiletto Fits... by Wendy Etherington

Author:Wendy Etherington
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

7

JAMES SLUMPED into the sofa and plotted escape. He’d survived dinner with Carlotta, only to find himself trapped in Lily’s apartment with an assortment of her never-say-enough partying friends. The whole thing reminded him of his childhood when his parents’ apartment had been filled with theater people at all hours.

At dinner, he’d suffered through endless discussions of women’s shoes—leathers, prints, solids, high-heeled, low-heeled and, finally, fake fur–covered, which had to be approved by Carlotta’s psychic adviser. And everything was immersed in pink.

Just before he’d slipped into a coma, he’d had the strong urge to run to a pharmacy and slug down some Pepto-Bismol.

They’d left the restaurant with Carlotta in tow, who’d called Fabian LaRoche, who it seemed automatically went everywhere with at least three women. Tonight, they were all blond. They’d all converged on Lily’s apartment—with its convenient open-door policy, free booze and no cover charge, leaving him wondering how he’d managed to let his life get so out of control.

And, hell, this was his business life. He didn’t even want to consider his personal life. The lack of sparks between him and Teresa, the wild kiss he’d shared with Lily that followed him into sleep and haunted him when he was awake.

This is ridiculous. Just get up and leave.

She wasn’t holding him prisoner. He only had to take the elevator down a few flights to get to his own apartment.

The meeting was long over, and boy, would he not miss silly business dinners with designers when he retired. He wouldn’t miss clients who consulted psychics before making professional decisions. He wouldn’t miss Lily’s mood swings. Or impulsiveness.

But neither could he deny that part of him craved watching her flit around the room. Part of him was drawn to her energy and fire. Part of him had enjoyed calming her down the other night and helping her through her creative block.

Would he miss the creative process when he retired? Was it possible he’d miss the spirit of the city?

As he was pondering the direction of his life, he looked up and saw her. Champagne glass in hand, she walked toward him, that eye-popping red dress hugging every curve. Her skin shimmered beneath the artful track lighting and candles placed around the room. When she reached him, she pursed her lips, painted a matching shade of red.

This is ridiculous. It’s just Lily. You’ve seen her nearly every day for the last nine months.

She dropped next to him on the sofa. “You can go home if you’re having such a miserable time.”

And to think he’d started the night wondering if she intended to use that dress to seduce him into forgetting about his retirement. Not only had she done nothing of the sort—not even the slightest bit of flirting, and for Lily that was odd, since she flirted as she breathed—now she’d pretty much told him to go home and quit spoiling the fun mood of her party.

Sometimes he was such a crabby ass.

James sighed and turned toward her. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.

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