Page 58 of The Treasure Hunt Hookup

“So, don’t go.”

She shakes her head. “There are people coming I really want to see. And I’m not avoiding it just because ofhim.” Ivy scowls.

Fuck, she’s cute when she’s stubborn.

“Well, how would you feel about a plus-one?” I suggest.

She pauses. “You want to come to my grad school reunion with me?” Ivy asks, looking surprised.

As if I wouldn’t go to the damn grocery store– if it was with her.

“Why not?” I smile, and steal a French fry. “The last road trip we went on turned out pretty well, if I remember right.”

I give her a playful smoldering look across the table. She grins back.

“Forme, sure,” Ivy drawls, and I can practically hear her whimpers of pleasure in that wardrobe. “So …” she adds with a sultry look, “Maybe it’s time we evened the score.”

Fuck.

It’s all I can do to give a strangled laugh – and hope I don’t need to leave for a while, because I’m sure as hell not getting up from this table any time soon.

Not unless I want the good folks of Milford Falls to see exactly the effect this woman has on me.

15

IVY

“What’s an outfit that says,‘lovely to see you again, Professor Chandra,’ but also, ‘ravish me now, Reeve’?”

Mary-Alice laughs, sprawled on my quilt, watching me packing for the reunion weekend before Reeve comes to pick me up. Or rather, I’mtryingto pack. “I’m not sure that outfit exists,” she says, as I pick up, and then discard, a half-a-dozen clothing options. “But when in doubt … layers!”

I turn back to my wardrobe. I’d already selected my outfits for every event, of course, and made sure they were freshly-laundered and ready to go, but having Reeve along for the trip means I need a rethink, and fast.

Goodbye, business casual. Hello, business slutty.Take me now,but with an advanced degree.

“Anyway, you know men, it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing on the outside. He’ll forget it all the minute you start to take it off.”

I pause, getting a brief head rush at the idea of me and Reeve, finally naked. “Good point.” I switch my attention to lingerie, trading out the comfy T-shirt bra and cotton panties for something way, way less comfortable.

Mary-Alice kicks back, looking pleased. “I love this for you,” she beams.

“I kind of love this for me, too,” I admit, smiling.

“A hot guy who brings you coffee and whispering orgasms,” she muses. “And on top of that, you’re going to beat Jake to the treasure. Ooh, try the black dress.”

“Easy there,” I calm her. “We have no idea what this next clue even means. And Jake has a ton more resources: a whole team working around the clock, all his high-tech gadgets—”

“Psht,” Mary-Alice waves my caution away. “All the gadgets in the world couldn’t make up for his idiot instincts. No, not that one,” she adds, as I rifle through dry-cleaning bags. “The dress with the slit up to your ribcage.”

“This one?” I ask, pulling the dress in question down. I bought it during one of my late-night online shopping binges, the ones where I thought that buying the perfect, sexy post-divorce wardrobe would somehow translate into me having the perfect, sexy post-divorce life.

The tags are still on.

“Yes!” Mary-Alice insists, as I hold it up. It’s tight, and knee-length, with a high, buttoned neck. “It’s very ‘violent sexpot villain in a spy movie who can choke you out with her bare thighs’.”

In other words, very Lola. I hold it up, still uncertain. “It’s hot. But for a casual alumni dinner?”

Mary-Alice gives me a look. “A casual alumni dinner attended by your rat bastard ex, and his twenty-two year old new squeeze, where everyone will be wondering why the two of you broke up, and who won the divorce?”

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