“Me?”
“You need to try something on, too.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t need new underwear.”
“It’s not about needing it.” Summer held up a red satin bra. “This would look fabulous against your skin.”
She looked at it longingly. She loved red, but she never wore it because it’d been her mother’s favorite color. “I don’t know, Summer.”
“Just try it on.” She pushed it at Em, forcing her to take it. “Shall we?”
She followed reluctantly, feeling like she held a viper in her hands.
It was okay. She’d try it on, tell Summer it didn’t fit, and that’d be that. She wouldn’t even look in the mirror, so she wouldn’t get tempted by it. She went into the dressing room, resolute.
“Do you have it on?” Summer asked a few minutes later. She poked her head into Em’s dressing room.
“Eep.” Em startled, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“Let me see.” Her friend pushed her arms away. “Em, you look amazing. Look at yourself.”
She grudgingly faced the mirror. The red satin cupped and propped her up, offering her breasts like they were a luscious dessert. It made her look ripe and tempting.
She hated it.
“You have to get it,” Summer insisted. “I can’t believe you hide that under your boxy clothes, Em. Most women would kill for a figure like yours.”
She shrugged, turning away from the mirror.
“I’ll let you change.” Summer backed out.
Em quickly took the red off and carefully rehung it on its hanger. She buttoned her blouse all the way to the top and left the bra hanging in the dressing room when she left.
Her friend frowned at her. “You aren’t getting it?”
“It didn’t suit me.”
“But—”
“I like this one though.” She picked up a white bra from the table in front of her. It was cotton, plain, without even a tiny bow to give it any excitement.
“But that’s so—” Summer shook her head, seemingly at a loss for words.
“It’s perfect.” She forced a bright smile and marched to the register to pay for the ugly bra.
Chapter Fourteen
Rosalind’s phone rang as she stepped out of the shower. She glanced at the screen, saw the goofy picture of Bijou she used as her ID, and smiled wide. “You have impeccable timing,” she said as she wrapped herself in a towel.
“Are you getting it on?” her best friend asked with her usual bluntness.
“Alas, no.” She sighed, thinking of Nick and how he’d been so resistant to her advances.
“Wait. That sigh meant something.” Bijou gasped. “Is there a boy?”
“He’s all man, and I’m not sure. He seems interested one moment and then pushes me away the next.”
“Is he British?”
“Yes. Why?”
“British men are strange.”
She shook her head as she pulled out clothes from the dresser. “He’s not strange. He’s being gallant.”
“And that’s strange. You need a dude who’ll bang you silly, especially given the recent family events.” Bijou paused. “How are you holding up?”
Sitting on the bed, she considered the question. “Good, I think. I miss home, but it’s okay being here.”
“Portia isn’t giving you shit?”
“Of course she is.” She smiled wryly. “I’m in London, not an alternate universe.”
“Your mom?” Bijou asked, her voice serious.
“Mum is”—she shook her head—”acting oddly.”
“That makes sense. Her husband died with another woman.”
“But it’s a nice odd. She asked to see my designs.”
“Whoa.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“When are you coming home?” Bijou had a way of getting to the core of the matter.
Sighing, she said, “I don’t know.”
There was a contemplative pause, and then her best friend said, “Then I’m giving you homework.”
Rosalind grinned. Bijou had been giving her “homework” since boarding school, and it always had to do with the opposite sex. “Yes?”
“Get this strange Brit you’re infatuated with naked.”
“Why do you think I’m infatuated with him?”
“Please.” Bijou snorted. “You’re my girl. I know.”
Rosalind hung up, a huge smile on her face and a plan formulating.
The doorbell rang.
Rosalind was ready for it. She opened it quickly, her belly fluttering with nerves. “Hello, Nick.”
She wondered if he heard the huskiness in her voice. She wondered if he knew why she’d called him over.