Page 27 of Always a Bridesmaid

“No one wears kitten heels anymore, Jane.”

“I can stand here all night,” came from the other side of the door.

She squeaked and ran a nervous hand through her hair. “I need a plan.”

“You’re the one with a color-coded, multi-tabbed binder to organize your bills and you’re askingmefor a plan? Man, you’re a mess.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

“Okay, first, get rid of the murder board. Rip it all down and put it in your suitcase.”

Jane was on that assignment like ink on paper. Thumbtacks shot through the air and red yarn tangled in her hair as she shoved photos, Post-its, and printouts in her suitcase like it was an Olympic sport. By the time she was done, she was sweating like a boxer in the heavyweight championship.

Swiping a wet bead off her forehead, she went back to the laptop. “Now what?”

“Strip.”

“What?” she croaked. “You think Elle would sleep with him after their date?”

“Glad to know you consider it a date.”

“I don’t, but Elle would.”

“Would Elle sleep with him?”

“Probably.”

“Then it looks like you’ll have to take one for the team. Method acting and all.” Roxy must have seen the panic drain Jane’s face because she said, “Kidding. I just want you to put on the bathrobe and pretend you were in the shower. Now make it snappy.”

“Right, good idea. This is the role of my life.” Jane stripped down to her birthday suit and then threw on an Elle-inspired robe—pink silk with tiny blue peonies on it that hit mid-thigh and was meant to be a statement more than it was functional, and she was making a statement that she was Elle Vaughn.

With a flick of the wrist, it was secured with a flimsy ribbon acting as a belt, then she wrapped her very dry hair into a towel.

With a deep and grounding breath,she sent up a little prayer to God, Buddha, and Betty White for strength, then opened the door.

“You rang,”was all she said, inspiring a dozen snappy comebacks right there, sitting on the tip of Henry’s tongue. But then he saw Elle in that robe, face clean of makeup, looking fresh and sexy as hell, and they all dried up.

The robe was practically see-through, allowing him to make out the swell of her breasts, the valley of her cleavage, the form of her hips. Then there were her legs peeking out from beneath the hem—all that tan, toned skin. But it was that bloody belt that had him breaking out in a sweat. It was about a quarter inch thin and fastened right under her breasts, which made no sense at all because belts were made to go around the waist, but he wasn’tcomplaining. It accentuated her curves and inspired a hundred different situations where a belt like that would come in handy.

Like secured to the headboard of his bed. Or hers.

“Eyes up here,” Elle said, sounding bored.

He took his time getting there, just to annoy her, and by the time they locked gazes, she was livid.

“What took you so long?” he asked, wondering who that robe was meant for. Herself or was she entertaining someone else?

His forehead folded in on itself at the idea of someone else being in there. She had made it clear the other night she was on the prowl for a companion. Maybe she’d found herself one. And why did that bother him?

“I was just getting out of the shower.”

“If you say so,” he said, strolling past her and into her room, his gaze raking every corner, relief flooding when he realized she was, indeed, alone. Granted, someone could be in the closet, but she didn’t seem like the kind of person to hide a man from him. Nope, she’d shove him in Henry’s face just to prove she wasn’t attracted to him.

Which should be a good thing since sleeping with his sister’s bridesmaid was a bad move.

But that robe. Damn, it blew all his reasons to steer clear to high heaven.

“Please, do come in,” she deadpanned.

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