Phoenix Burning(27)
“Do you know Connor Archuleta?”
“Jessa’s Connor?”
“Exactly.” Morgan’s expression grew determined. “If you’d have told me a year ago that man would wind up in a monogamous long-term committed relationship, I’d have called bullshit.”
Emory thought of Jessa’s voluptuous body and confident demeanor. “I don’t think I’m really in her league.”
“Ha! You didn’t see her the first time she walked in here. She’s not even the same woman anymore. I swear.”
“Unless she had a boob job and a facial reconstruction, I’m pretty sure whatever she was wearing the first time you met her was a minor issue.”
Morgan rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “It wasn’t just her clothes. She was a mouse. Trust me. You should ask her about it. She’ll tell you. The point is that just because a guy hasn’t settled down doesn’t mean he won’t.”
“And you’re basing this on what?”
“On the fact that you’re about as far from Alex’s normal type as you can get.”
That didn’t help Emory’s confidence level at all. Her gaze drifted around the store, settling on a full-length mirror a few paces away. “So what do I do? Start stuffing my bra and wearing short skirts?”
“No, and I wasn’t trying to be mean.” Morgan dragged her closer to the mirror. “I’m just saying that he sees something else that he likes and that’s a good thing. A very good thing.”
It sounded like a repackaged version of what Fox had said that morning. She just wished she had faith in that kind of thing. The boob job and facial reconstruction sounded like a better plan.
“Are you meeting him tonight?”
She had been. Now she was starting to feel like she’d be better off heading home and starting to work on the Monday orders. “He suggested I stop by.”
“Then we should definitely spice up this outfit a little.” Morgan turned around and started perusing the racks and muttering to herself.
“Don’t go to any trouble, Morgan. I think I’m just going to head back to the shop. I’ve got a huge order that has to be ready by Monday. Lots of orders actually. The Chrises are having a romantic getaway this weekend, so I should get some work done and…”
“If you say one more word, I’m going to smack you upside the head.” Morgan grabbed Emory’s button-down outer shirt and tugged it down over her arms. “The whole camisole thing you have going on is cute. But I think we can do better.”
“Hey!” Emory hastily threw up her hands as Morgan yanked the cami up and off.
Her friend sandwiched Emory into a black corset top with white pinstripes and lacy cap sleeves. The top gave her a waist, defined cleavage where there’d been none, and made her narrow hips seem slender and sexy. She even liked the dusting of lace across the bust line. It was surprisingly comfortable.
Morgan took a step back to admire her handiwork. “I’m telling you, it was a bad day for women when we decided not to wear these things.”
“I think the women’s movement might disagree. Besides, you haven’t tried to cinch yourself five inches smaller with one. I think that was the complaint.”
“You think too much, Emory.”
“Can I keep my pants?”
Morgan tugged her bottom lip, a familiar gesture that said she was thinking it over very thoroughly. “Normally, I’d tell you a skirt is a must. Every guy likes a skirt and a thong. That’s the real definition of easy access. But those slouchy cut offs you wear all the time are practically a one-zip removal. In fact, I think the belt is all that’s keeping them up. Where do you buy those things, anyway?”
Emory looked at the mirror, evaluating the item under discussion. There was no way she was going to explain her reason for wearing men’s cargos to Morgan. When you grew up looking like Little House on the Prairie, you learned to hate dresses and value comfort pretty quickly as an adult. “Army surplus, actually. They’re really cheap.”
“I might have to look into that,” Morgan mused thoughtfully. “They’re sort of sexy. In a nineties grunge kind of way.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“You know what? I think it is. Now, we’ve got to do something about your wild-ass hair.”
Emory sighed, staring at the woman in the mirror and wondering how long she was going to be able to hold the darkness at bay before it swallowed her whole and left her with nothing. Her mother’s song drifted through her mind, a reminder of a past that wouldn’t let go.