moved to the area and was having trouble meeting men. Molly briefly wondered if she might be a match for Zane, but of course that was up to the computer, not her. Secretly, she hoped not. All Zane’s dates so far had been busts, according to the women involved, and she had no great hopes for his meeting with Karen Tighe. Molly preferred not to dwell on the relief she felt every time a negative report came back to her. After all, there was no predicting chemistry.
Things had taken a turn southward, though, when Todd had gathered everyone in the conference room after lunch and announced his engagement to the divine Miss Lambert. A lavish party was in the works for that weekend, to which they were all invited. Molly had returned to her desk with a jaw that ached from faking a smile, only to find a coupon for a new lady’s boutique in the newly-arrived mail. Antoinette’s seemed to be an upscale boutique specializing in women’s wear, similar to the premium clothing department in any of the finer department stores, but with a slightly sexier twist. Needing a little emotional pickup, and wanting to wear something to Todd’s party that would make a statement, she’d driven to the address after work and carried the discount card to the door.
To her chagrin, she stepped inside and found that Antoinette’s overdone Victorian décor, complete with thick maroon drapes and tassel-draped lamps, suggested an entirely different sort of business. She was about to flee when two things happened simultaneously. First, the ornate velvet curtains at the back of the room swished apart. Next, and far worse, Zane Bishop himself walked in right behind her. What on earth was he doing here?
From behind the curtains, a stunning dark-haired woman stepped forward in full Victorian costume—but Molly doubted it was anything her great-grandmother would have recognized. Instead of a bustle skirt and neck-high collar, this ensemble consisted of a low-cut, lace-bordered affair in emerald silk. Even the woman’s granny boots featured daringly spiked heels. Black fishnet stockings over impossibly shapely legs bridged the gap.
“Welcome to the Boudoir.” The woman gave Molly a welcoming smile, but when she saw Zane behind her, it stretched to Cheshire Cat proportions. “I’m Antoinette, and it will be my pleasure to help you with your selections today.”
Molly groaned inwardly, especially when she noticed Zane staring back at her with a stunned expression. Still, she wasn’t surprised. Beside women like Antoinette, sensible types like Molly didn’t have a prayer of holding a man’s attention.
“That’s very kind of you,” Zane said in a slightly choked voice. “I think I’d better let the two of you discuss the details, though.”
“Not at all,” Antoinette insisted. “Since the lingerie is for both of you, I firmly believe it should be purchased together. All the men who come in here find it uncomfortable at first, but I consider it part of my job to help them enjoy the process. In fact, we have a special showroom for couples shopping together. Why don’t you follow me?”
“Great,” Zane said, beaming. “I feel more at home already.” He winked at Molly. “After you, dear.”
“What are you doing here?” she whispered through clenched teeth.
“Sorry,” he whispered back. “I had to see you.”
“You couldn’t make an appointment like everyone else?”
“Shhh. Antoinette’s watching us.”
The small room she escorted them to had been done up to look like a Victorian bedroom in miniature—complete with a curtained canopy bed, faux-Oriental dressing screen, and ornate, overstuffed chairs. The doors of the armoire stood ajar to reveal two rows of tagged chemises and nightwear that could charitably be called skimpy. A heavy chest of drawers likewise revealed delicate undergarments of various sorts, all discreetly folded so the price tags lay face-down. Molly guessed there was a very good reason for that.
“Why
Things had taken a turn southward, though, when Todd had gathered everyone in the conference room after lunch and announced his engagement to the divine Miss Lambert. A lavish party was in the works for that weekend, to which they were all invited. Molly had returned to her desk with a jaw that ached from faking a smile, only to find a coupon for a new lady’s boutique in the newly-arrived mail. Antoinette’s seemed to be an upscale boutique specializing in women’s wear, similar to the premium clothing department in any of the finer department stores, but with a slightly sexier twist. Needing a little emotional pickup, and wanting to wear something to Todd’s party that would make a statement, she’d driven to the address after work and carried the discount card to the door.
To her chagrin, she stepped inside and found that Antoinette’s overdone Victorian décor, complete with thick maroon drapes and tassel-draped lamps, suggested an entirely different sort of business. She was about to flee when two things happened simultaneously. First, the ornate velvet curtains at the back of the room swished apart. Next, and far worse, Zane Bishop himself walked in right behind her. What on earth was he doing here?
From behind the curtains, a stunning dark-haired woman stepped forward in full Victorian costume—but Molly doubted it was anything her great-grandmother would have recognized. Instead of a bustle skirt and neck-high collar, this ensemble consisted of a low-cut, lace-bordered affair in emerald silk. Even the woman’s granny boots featured daringly spiked heels. Black fishnet stockings over impossibly shapely legs bridged the gap.
“Welcome to the Boudoir.” The woman gave Molly a welcoming smile, but when she saw Zane behind her, it stretched to Cheshire Cat proportions. “I’m Antoinette, and it will be my pleasure to help you with your selections today.”
Molly groaned inwardly, especially when she noticed Zane staring back at her with a stunned expression. Still, she wasn’t surprised. Beside women like Antoinette, sensible types like Molly didn’t have a prayer of holding a man’s attention.
“That’s very kind of you,” Zane said in a slightly choked voice. “I think I’d better let the two of you discuss the details, though.”
“Not at all,” Antoinette insisted. “Since the lingerie is for both of you, I firmly believe it should be purchased together. All the men who come in here find it uncomfortable at first, but I consider it part of my job to help them enjoy the process. In fact, we have a special showroom for couples shopping together. Why don’t you follow me?”
“Great,” Zane said, beaming. “I feel more at home already.” He winked at Molly. “After you, dear.”
“What are you doing here?” she whispered through clenched teeth.
“Sorry,” he whispered back. “I had to see you.”
“You couldn’t make an appointment like everyone else?”
“Shhh. Antoinette’s watching us.”
The small room she escorted them to had been done up to look like a Victorian bedroom in miniature—complete with a curtained canopy bed, faux-Oriental dressing screen, and ornate, overstuffed chairs. The doors of the armoire stood ajar to reveal two rows of tagged chemises and nightwear that could charitably be called skimpy. A heavy chest of drawers likewise revealed delicate undergarments of various sorts, all discreetly folded so the price tags lay face-down. Molly guessed there was a very good reason for that.
“Why
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