CHAPTER 78

DARLENE

I watched the hours tick away on the glass clock of the master bedroom and the uneasiness pressing against the base of my spine climbed with each passing second.

What the hell was taking my husband so long? I sighed, groaning as I stretched to my feet from the bed wearily, sagging like a bag of wet potatoes in front of the fluorescent-infused vanity mirror that cast the porcelain of my face in a grayed-out cast.

“Huh,” I huffed, puffing my chest out so that the pink of my areola poked through the lace nightie most alluringly before the sound of a woman clearing her throat in the doorway reached my ears.

I gasped audibly, throwing my hands over my chest and damn near snapping the bone of my neck as I whipped my head to face the door, Stephanie McKenzie’s jade-green eyes pining me where I stood in her son’s master bedroom.

I felt a sudden wave of inadequacy wash over me as the heat of her gaze traveled up and down the length of my form.

“Mrs. McKenzie, I-uh, didn't see you there