Page 23 of Undo Me

His fingers tightened almost painfully on hers, but he still didn’t look down at her. “I’ll admit, if I’d known you existed before this morning, I would have been by sooner. But my style is more straightforward as a rule. Why sneak into your subconscious as another, when I’m more than temptation enough as I am?”

Arrogant. But it had a definite ring of truth. “The other option is I’m psychic and I saw you coming. I’ve always wanted to be.”

He smirked. “You’re not. Because I’m not, and I saw something when you kissed me as well.”

She frowned. “You did?”

He nodded sharply. “Someone might be playing. The Loa do enjoy their games. The best thing to do is ignore it. Nothing is going to disrupt this day.”

Bethany looked around, thoroughly lost. “Where is it you’re trying to take me?”

“I’m trying to take you to bed so I can explore every inch of you with my tongue, but I thought we’d go shopping first.”

She took a steadying breath at the graphic visual. “I hate shopping.”

“All women love shopping.”

Bethany snorted. “That’s such a guy thing to say. Declarative, a little sexist and a lot wrong. I thought you were an expert on women, BD.”

“So did I,” he said under his breath.

“I shop online for things I need, sure. And I enjoy shopping for other people, just not for myself.”

“Why?”

There was no harm in honesty. “I don’t like trying things on, and I hate dressing rooms, especially the harsh lighting and realistic mirrors. I’d rather live in ignorance of my wobbly backside. I can’t see it, so I don’t have to think about it.”

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned his head to snare her gaze. “There is nothing wrong with your backside, Blue Eyes. On that, I am an expert.”

“Mirrors don’t lie,” she quipped.

His amber eyes sparked with irritation. “You’re mistaken. They reflect what you see, and what you see isn’t always what’s real. It won’t tell you what a man sees when he looks at you. What I see. So when you’re trying on the dress you don’t want to shop for, you won’t trust the mirrors. You’ll trust me instead.”

He tilted his head up at a sign that bore a picture of what looked suspiciously like a corset and nodded. “We’re here.”

She tried to back away, but he wouldn’t let her go. “I don’t need underwear, BD. I have underwear. I even brought a few back up pairs. What I need is a dress. A simple dress. A comfortable, loose-fitting dress that says, go ahead and fill your plate, you’re not in the wedding party and no one will notice.”

He snorted. “You do like to hide, I know. But you’re in New Orleans and you’re with me. Tonight isn’t the night for camouflage. And what is it they say? What is underneath is the most important thing.” He opened the glass door and practically threw her inside.

“Careful now, Tarzan, my arm likes being attached to my body,” she muttered grumpily. “And that saying is about personalities, not thongs.”

“May I help—oh my.”

Bethany rolled her eyes.

“Good afternoon, sir. What can I do to you today? For you. I meant for you, of course.” The tall, stunning woman with short, natural curls and flawless dark skin was obviously knocked breathless at the sight of him.

Join the club, lady. Now back off.

The voice inside her head was getting rather territorial. Before she could say a word, BD bowed gallantly, revealing his pearl-white teeth in a charming grin that made the salesclerk flutter.

Flutter, for God’s sake.

“I have come to find the perfect undergarments for this gorgeous creature.” He tugged Bethany closer, his arm curving around her shoulders. His body was so warm. That had to be why she felt flushed.

The woman looked her up and down, her smile dimming as she pointed to the far corner. “She should find something in her size over there.”

Reason number two hundred and twenty-three why books were better than people: The jealous, pretty chicks always got taught a valuable lesson in the end.

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