Page 81 of Tame Me

I grinned at her and turned back to the mirror. “Okay. I can handle that.”

My purple boots were perfect, and I turned to admire the sexy heel. With the purple as my inspiration, I went to my lingerie drawer and removed a purple bra that was squashed down the back. It was plain satin, with a bit of padding in the lower part of the cup for extra oomph and had little diamantés on the satin straps. I put it on, and over the top, I wore a plain black button-up shirt that I tied in a knot at my waist.

“What do you think?”

She frowned, stepped forward, and undid the buttons on my shirt until it was open all the way to the knot. “Better.”

I turned back to the mirror. My shirt was wide enough to reveal my purple bra and a decent amount of my boob bulge. “I look like a tart.”

“You look like a rock chick who has the best tits in the world.”

God, I love her.

“Selfie time.” She plucked her phone from her bag, and we grinned at it until she’d snapped several photos. “I promised Cal I’d send him a pic.”

As she tapped away on her phone, I inspected my reflection. It was a new style for me, and damn, I felt totally sexy. I couldn’t wait to see Mason’s reaction when he saw me again. Grinning, I turned to check out my butt in the leather pants, and Lolita burst out laughing.

“What?” My jaw dropped.

“Oh, just Cal. He reminded me he’d eaten pineapple for dinner and told me to get my sexy ass home.”

I chuckled, relieved that it wasn’t my ass she was laughing at.

“So, are we ready to go?” She raised her perfectly formed eyebrows.

“Hell, yes, we are.”

We gulped down the last of our wine, grabbed our bags, and headed to the elevator.

Twenty minutes later, we were seated at Valentino’s restaurant. As much as I felt totally out of place in my thigh-high boots and exposed bra, Lolita looked like the queen of the restaurant.

Each time I tried to do up my buttons, Lolita slapped my hand away.

Maybe we should have ordered takeout.

Too late now.

Divine smells of garlic and grilled cheese coming from the kitchen made my stomach growl.

The elderly Italian woman who took our order had an accent that suggested that she’d just stepped off the plane, and she served us with swift efficiency.

Twenty minutes later, I tucked into creamy risotto packed with seafood, and Lolita nibbled on a bunch of spinach leaves. I succumbed to foodie heaven and refrained from speaking until my stomach was at peace again.

I’d resisted drinking the Prosecco Lolita ordered until I had a decent amount of rice in my belly, but when I did, I was delighted by how delicious it was. Lolita and I rarely had dinner together with just the two of us, and our conversation focused on the men in my life again.

She paused with her champagne glass at her lips. “Are you upset about Corben?”

I shrugged. “Yes and no. He was fun, and the sex was amazing, but . . .”

“But what?”

I sighed and sipped my wine as I formulated my answer. “I’m glad I called it off. It could have taken me a long time with Corben before I discovered his reluctance to settle down and have kids.”

“That means a lot to you, huh?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve never really mentioned kids before.”

---