6

I glanced down at the black slinky pants that were so tight they gave me

camel toe. They made me feel sexy, and for some reason that made me

think of Hudson’s dark expression when he’d first laid eyes on me. The

expression I’d since convinced myself was imagined.

“Great. Now you’re telling me I have to throw these out too?”

“Well, just don’t wear them while you’re working.” He stood so he

could reach the printer on the corner of the desk behind me. “For the

record,” he said as his arm brushed my waist. “I don’t disapprove of this

outfit in the slightest.”

I, on the other hand, wanted to burn the whole ensemble. It had caused

me nothing but trouble all night—drunk patrons thinking they could touch

me and say things to me that they otherwise wouldn’t.

But I’d worn it for David—for the moment when we’d be alone. This

was it.

I put on a fake pout. “Too bad your opinion isn’t the one that matters.”

David leaned in close. “My opinion doesn’t matter?”

“Actually,” I said, grabbing his jacket