Feeling defeated, she flopped down on the bed.
What was wrong with her? This wasn’t a date. It was just two friends going to sample some foods together. It didn’t matter what she wore.
The hell it didn’t.
She stormed into Maeve’s bedroom on a mission.
“Looking a little flustered,” Maeve observed, eyeing the light sheen of sweat on her friend’s brow. She lay sprawled out on the bed in a silk robe reading Architectural Digest.
Desperate, Lacey’s eyes were wide. “I have no clothes. I have no shoes.”
“As I’ve been telling you for months now.”
“Can I borrow something?”
“Duh. Of course. What do you need? What are you dressing for?” She lifted herself out from a pile of fluffy pillows.
“Mick and I are going to sample those entrées at Eagle’s Point tonight.”
“Hot date clothes, then.”
“It’s not a date.”
With a smirk, Maeve snuggled back into the poof of her bed linens. “Well, then what you’re wearing should do just fine.”
Lacey sighed. “Okay, okay. Sort of hot date clothes. Everything I have is either super casual or bland work clothes.”
“Ah, yes, the Lacey Owens Funeral Collection,” Maeve nodded solemnly, rising from her bed with greater enthusiasm. “I can do better than that.”
Lacey bit her tongue and let her friend take over, watching her pull out stacks of shoe boxes and armloads of hangers from her closet.
Maeve barreled through an assortment of colorful attire, sorting and paring down until she settled on a combination that resembled something ripped from a magazine. She dressed Lacey like a life-sized doll, topping her effort with a light squirt of perfume.
“There. You are now ready,” Maeve said triumphantly, turning Lacey around to see herself in the mirror.
“I am indebted to you forever.” Lacey gazed at herself in Maeve’s selection of a silk blouse with a cashmere sweater, and a denim skirt that fell just above the knee. Sexy, yet understated, leather heeled boots completed the ensemble.
“Now if you come home at all tonight, I’ll be grossly disappointed in you, Lacey.”
***
The smell of roasted garlic wafted into the stairway as Lacey made her way down the steps. Bess, in her usual sweats, was hovering over the kitchen counters, chopping and dicing herbs and vegetables that Lacey didn’t even recognize.
“That smells wonderful. What is it?”
Bess didn’t even turn to Lacey to speak, concentrating on the task at-hand. “A little experiment. Sort of a lasagna with a little of this and that.” She finally glanced over her shoulder. “Wow! You look fantastic.”
“Thanks. Maeve’s doing, of course. The only thing that’s mine is the bra.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” a male voice said behind her.
Lacey blushed from head to toe at the sight of Mick standing in the entryway. “Bess, why didn’t you tell me he was here?”
“I’m sorry,” Bess said innocently, with palpable amusement. “I thought you heard the doorbell.”
“I couldn’t hear a thing over Maeve’s lecture about my lack of style and colorless wardrobe.”
Mick gave her an obvious once-over. “I’ll mirror Bess’s compliment and say you look fantastic.”
“Thanks. So do you. I haven’t seen you in a suit since—” She stopped suddenly, not wanting to remind him of the circumstances of their meeting.
“Doc’s funeral,” Mick finished casually for her. “Yeah, I bet you’re getting sick of seeing me in jeans or in uniform.”
Never, Lacey thought. “Ready to go?”
Mick wrapped his arm around her waist and whisked her out the door. “I can’t imagine that what they’re cooking for us tonight will be any better than whatever Bess is whipping up,” he commented as they stepped into the crisp fall evening.
“I’ve never been to Eagle’s Point, but I’ve heard it’s incredible. I can’t believe Edith managed to secure it for the fundraiser. She has such a way of getting people to do things she wants.” Mick opened the car door for her, and as she sunk into his leather seats, she noticed his double-take as her skirt slipped further up her thigh. Good, she couldn’t resist thinking.
He slid into his seat and put the key in the ignition. Glancing at her again, his finger lightly traced the exposed skin just above her knee. “Goosebumps,” he commented. “Are you cold?”
“A little,” Lacey murmured, a sinful thrill racing up her spine from his touch.
“I’ll turn the heat up then,” he said, giving Lacey the hope he might lean in and touch his warm lips to hers.