Two Sexy!. Stephanie BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
spent time here with Rebecca, but never on my own.”
“Have you met Harry?”
She frowned. “Who?”
He gave a little laugh and a dismissive wave. “Never mind.” He pulled a card from his pocket. “If you need help getting around town, or if you need anything at all, just call my cell phone number.”
Meg smiled. “Thanks.”
He nodded toward the street where more policemen on horseback had gathered. “I guess you heard about the local commotion.”
“No.”
“Big splashy benefit in town, lots of celebrities around.”
Meg made a rueful noise. “I have a friend who’s a celebrity hound—she’ll be disappointed she missed a chance to spot someone famous and get their autograph.”
“Do you have friends here in Chicago?”
“Not really.”
He rooted in his back pocket. “I have an extra ticket to a reception tonight if you’d like to come. The hotel is just a couple of blocks from here. A lot of my friends are coming—it’ll be fun.”
She smiled. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.”
“Bring your camera—with luck, you can bring your friend back a souvenir.” He flashed a grin. “See you later.”
Meg felt a rush of gratitude for Quincy’s generosity, and his upbeat visit seemed to set the tone for the rest of the morning. The shop was a whirlwind of activity as customers returned costumes, and others came in to try on garment after garment looking for just the right one. Michael Pierce’s restaurant, Incognito, had become a popular spot for dining in costume—according to Rebecca, every night was a masquerade party, and business was booming. The bell on the door rang incessantly, and Peoria seemed like a million miles away.
An attractive middle-aged woman named Mrs. Conrad came in with a tin of cream candy. She appeared to be a regular customer since she was familiar with the store layout. She rented a sexy cowgirl outfit, complete with a little rawhide whip. Just putting the items in a bag sent a blush to Meg’s face.
Around lunch time, she got a breather. Meg sighed and sank onto a stool behind the counter, marveling at the business her sister had grown. She pulled off her glasses and massaged her temples, then used the hem of her sweater to clean the smudged lenses. The ringing of the bell on the door startled her and she dropped her glasses on the counter. While she fumbled for them blindly, the customers approached the counter—bright blotches of color, a man and a woman from the sound of their voices, and they seemed to be bickering. A hot flush climbed her neck and cheeks as she searched the counter in vain—she felt like Mr. Magoo.
“Are these what you’re looking for?” the man asked, placing her glasses in her hands. He had a warm, pleasing voice.
“Thank you,” she murmured, then jammed the glasses on her face. But just as her vision returned, her speech fled. Her helpful customer was tall, dark and exotic looking, tanned with dark hair and eyes, high cheekbones and a prominent nose. Around thirty, she guessed, although he had the carriage of a more mature man. Or maybe it was his sturdy build that made him look older, or the fact that he was dressed in black from head to toe. Regardless, she was sure she’d never seen anyone more handsome in her life. Quincy’s comment about celebrities being in the area came back to her, and she wondered if he was someone she should recognize. Of course she couldn’t ask him, because she couldn’t speak.
“You’re welcome,” he said with a little smile, and he squinted at her, as if something weren’t quite right. Were her glasses crooked? Her hair falling down? Drool spilling over her chin? Meg was paralyzed.
“Could I get some help, please?” his companion said in a high-pitched voice. The woman sounded annoyed.
Meg jumped up, an apology on her tongue. Until she got an eyeful of the blond bombshell. She blinked. “You’re…Taylor…Gee.”
The woman gave her a tight smile. “Smart kid. I’d like a private dressing room, please. And an ashtray, pronto.”
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