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“I might take you up on that.”
I nod. “Will you be eating in tonight?”
“I will, yes.”
“Is there something particular you’d like? I can let Mom know.”
“Anything that goes well with a Chiara red. I’m in the mood for red.”
“I see that,” I say, nodding to her red strappy top. “Anything else you’re in the mood for that I should know about?”
She shrugs her shoulders, drawing my eye to the crease of her cleavage. “A surprise. Surprise me.”
“Oh, I can definitely surprise you,” I reply with an enthusiastic grin.
“Will you be joining me tonight then? You and your mother, I mean?”
“Isn’t it frowned upon to mingle with the help?”
“Nobody is here to care, is there?”
“Not a damn soul,” I say. “Seven?”
She nods and lets her head drop back. The way she’s staring up at me with that sleepy, sexy look on her face . . . the way her body language seems to be begging me to touch, to taste, to take . . . Holy God!
I nod and turn to walk away, only because if I stay any longer, she’ll be coming out of those clothes. One way or the other.
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