“It’s me,” I said, pressing her back against the brick wall. “You’re alright. What are you running from?”
Her breathing was fast and shallow. And, fuck me, if I didn’t notice how her barely contained breasts were moving in her skintight, wine-red dress.
“Frank,” she said, inhaling slow and deep. “He caught me in his office.”
Fuck.
“Did he catch you doing anything?”
“No. No, I got in the office. And immediately noticed a working camera,” she explained. “So I, uh, pretended to start writing him a note since he wasn’t there. That’s when he came in.”
“I texted you to say he was coming,” I told her. I’d been worried she might have taken the chance I’d given her. But Frank had been too all over the place to distract.
“My phone was in my purse.”
“Baby, you gotta keep that on you.”
“Where?” she asked, waving down at her dress.
I definitely didn’t need an excuse to take in that damn dress again. But did my gaze lower? Yeah, of course it did.
She wasn’t wrong.
The thing was painted on.
It wasn’t the kind of dress that allowed for pockets.
“You could have a tailor sew a hidden pocket,” I suggested. “Phones are thin now; you wouldn’t see it if it was in the right spot.”
“These dresses are really expensive,” she told me. “I don’t want to ruin them.”
“Where are they from? I’ll buy a few new ones and get ‘em altered.”
“No.”
“No?” I asked, brows drawing down.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You already paid me.”
“Yeah, but this is different. Something necessary for the job.”
“Like this?” she asked, reaching to touch the diamond necklace.
Alright.
She had me there.
There was no reason I had to get the phone to her at work. Let alone hidden under an expensive necklace.
I could have tried my little Eric angle with a bouquet of roses that would have cost a hell of a lot less.
“Yeah. I needed to try something out.”
“You could take it back.”
