But I’m not that Daisy anymore, I keep reminding myself. I’m a new one.
“Maybe you should take a class on cooking,” Christine says. “If you enjoy it.”
“We’ll see,” I say absently, and wonder if I can sneak away during class to go buy a spangly top and surprise Nick. I want to show him that I’m trying, too. He’s been so very stressed lately, and the failed party has done nothing to help.
I’m the one who’s failing him, too. He looks to me for what a normal American couple should be like, and the fact that I don’t know, either? I feel responsible. It’s time I change who I am, maybe. I think of the movie Grease, and Sandy’s transformation to someone Danny can be proud of, and I brighten. If all it takes is clothing and attitude, I can do that.
I look over at Christine. “Where in the mall could I buy something to wear to the club, do you suppose?”
She considers for a moment. “Bebe?”
I nod. I haven’t been there before, but maybe it’s time that I check it out. If Nick needs to blend, so do I. I’m going to take the initiative for once.
***
Nick’s unusually tense after classes, so I suggest he go to the gun range to unwind, and I’ll visit father and walk Peanut. We kiss and part, both of us absent and distracted with our thoughts. Instead, though, I head to the mall, find the bebe store, and walk out an hour later with a dozen new, trendy tops. No more cardigans and demure sweaters for Daisy. I’m pleased at my purchases. Nick will like them, I think. They all show a lot of skin.
When he gets home that night, I’m baking cupcakes. I found a recipe online for chocolate cupcakes with salted caramel centers, and getting the inside to remain liquid while baking the rest of the cupcake was a challenge, but I’m pleased with how they turned out. I’m icing them as he walks through the door, and I’m wearing one of my new acquisitions. It’s a silk tank top, out of season for the Minnesota weather and on clearance for only a few dollars. The front is low cut and has spaghetti straps, and the back is almost nonexistent save for a flutter of material near the base of my spine. I’m wearing tight jeans with it. As Nick opens the door, I turn to him with a smile.
“Welcome home, Kolya,” I tell him, moving to his side to kiss his beloved face. He’s full of tension once again; I can tell by the set of his shoulders and the grim lines around his lovely mouth. “How was the gun range?”
“Busy.”
I nod and help him take off his coat. He hasn’t said a thing about my shirt yet, which means he hasn’t seen the back of it. Once his coat is hanging on a hook near the door, I deliberately walk back to the kitchen, exposing my back and the fact that I’m not wearing any bra.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
His brows draw together at the sight of me, and his gaze fixes on my back. “Your clothing . . .”
“It’s new,” I tell him, giving my shoulders a wiggle. “I’m trying to be a bit more modern. Do you like it?”
“Too much,” he tells me, coming to my side. His warm hand glides down my spine in a titillating caress. “Promise me you will not wear such things out in public with other men, or I might destroy them for looking at your beauty.”
I giggle. “You are far too dramatic.” His reaction is pleasing to me, though. “And no, I won’t wear this out in public. This is just for you.”
My hips have a bit more swing to them as I walk across the tiny kitchen to the counter where I’ve left the food.
“Any man would not be able to help himself if presented with such beauty,” he says, and instead of teasing, there’s a grim, almost helpless look on his face. “It is a good thing I practice at the gun range.”
Exasperated, I shake my head. That is the opposite reaction I wanted from him. I wanted to distract him with dirty, lustful thoughts, not make him think about guns more.
I’m concerned that my poor Nick is so stressed, but I know what will relax him, and it’s not food. “I just finished baking some new cupcakes and I want you to try them.” I give him my most sultry look over my bare shoulder. “They’re very sweet.”
And I turn and lick chocolate off of my fingers in a slow, deliberate manner, imagining that the chocolate is on his skin.
Chapter 6
Nikolai
“Nyet,” I say hoarsely. “Nothing could be as sweet as you.”
I want to forget the fear inspired by McFadden and drown myself in Daisy’s honey. Her invitation is unmistakable.
Her tight jeans raise her ass and frame it for my gaze but I prefer her nude. The rasp of the metal teeth of her zipper kindles a flame low in my groin. I tug the tight fabric down her legs, exposing one creamy inch at a time. When I reach her knees, I realize how tightly bound together her legs are. She does not move well.