Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) (20 page)

"I shouldn't have called," Brandon said. He sounded upset. "I still love you."

She gasped at the words. Shocked he could even say them after what he did. Lake's fingers gently massaged her shoulders, reminding her that he was there.

"I just thought," Brandon said in her ear, "after seeing the pictures of you that you still loved me, somehow, even a little bit."

Kirsty's mind was reeling. Nothing he said made any sense.

"What pictures? Why would you think that?"

"You were posing, at home in Scotland. You were wearing the necklace I bought you," he said. His voice cracked a little, as though the emotion was too much for him. "It was the last present I gave you, remember? I thought it was lost in the crash, but there you were wearing it for the world to see and I thought...I thought that if you kept it, if you wore it again, that it must mean there was hope. That you might be able to forgive me. It is the necklace I gave you, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, but I don't see how that could make you think I would take you back."

"I understand, I understand," Brandon said. "I shouldn't have called. It was a mistake."

The phone went dead. Kirsty held the phone long after the dial tone sounded in her ear. She didn't know what to think. Or what to feel. She was sure that she would have lost her mind completely if it wasn't for Lake's grounding presence.

"You're breathing too fast," Lake said behind her. She felt the rumble of his voice through her whole body. "Put the phone down, honey, and work on breathing slowly."

Her mind was too full to concentrate on what he was saying. A second later, he took the phone out of her hand and placed it on the desk.

"I want you to shut your eyes and concentrate on your breathing. Listen to me, Kirsty."

Since she didn't know what else to do, she did as she was told. Short, slow breaths, taking time between each breath to rest—making sure she didn't gasp for air and hyperventilate her way back into hospital. There was nothing like a full-blown panic attack combined with too much oxygen to make you feel like you were going to die. Lake whispered encouraging words as he kept up the slow circular motions at the base of her neck. Kirsty worked on breathing and, slowly, began to feel more in control.

"That's it," said Lake. "Your heartbeat's a lot slower now. You're doing great."

They continued that way for a few minutes. At last Kirsty felt like she was normal again. Lake seemed to know that and stopped touching her; instead he perched on the desk beside her.

"Want to tell me what that was about?" he said.

"Like you didn't hear it anyway."

He smiled and his beautiful eyes sparkled, taking her breath away in a good way for a change.

"You must be feeling better. You're giving me a hard time again."

Kirsty rolled her eyes. She was about to point out that she'd ordered him from her office, but the truth was she was grateful he'd been there.

"It was my ex-fiancé," she said with a sigh. "He wanted to get back together. He said he loves me."

She looked up at Lake. His intense concentration was comforting.

"You know the story, right?" she said.

He nodded. Of course he knew the story. Everyone knew every humiliating detail of her life.

"He saw the necklace and thought it was a sign."

"Necklace?"

She pointed to the bowl on her desk. She wished she'd thrown the thing out years ago.

"He gave you that ugly piece of crap?" Lake said.

To her surprise, Kirsty laughed.

"Yep, he did."

"You kept it because you love him?" His voice was tight.

"Goodness, no. I kept it because it was the only thing I had left of my old life."

He nodded like that made sense.

"I'll throw it out." She reached for the bowl.

Lake caught her hand and held it tight in his. It was dwarfed by his hand. His long, powerful fingers entwined with hers. Kirsty didn't pull away. Instead she watched him stroke the soft, fleshy part of her palm with his thumb.

"Don't throw it out—let me ask around first. I'd like to know a little more about this guy, and the necklace he's so interested in."

She looked up at him.

"You're worried?" she asked. It seemed pointless to point out that she was already worried.

"Curious," he said.

They sat in silence for a minute as Lake stroked her hand, sending little tingles right throughout her body.

"I don't like that guy," he said at last.

Kirsty gave him her widest grin.

"No, I don't like him either," she said.

When Lake growled his approval, Kirsty started to laugh.

"You know, Betty's right," she said.

He raised an eyebrow, making her grin widely.

"You are really rubbish at this war thing. You're supposed to be wiping me out. Not rescuing me."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

She gave him a look. He knew exactly what he was doing. There was no doubt in her mind that Lake always knew what he was doing.

"I guess I need to work on that," he told her.

"You think?"

"Come here." He yanked her hand and pulled her to her feet.

She stood between his knees as he wrapped his arms around her. Kirsty didn't bother to stop him. For the first time since she'd met him, his insistence that this physical connection they had was completely separate from the war actually made sense. She guessed her body had talked her mind around after all, because if Lake's crazy logic was making sense, then she wanted him badly.

"You're thinking about it," he said with a knowing smile.

She rolled her eyes.

"You're thinking about us," he said, and his tone was cocky.

"Shut up and kiss me, soldier boy," she told him.

"Yes, ma'am."

Lake's lips were delicious. Kirsty found herself leaning into him and letting herself get lost in his touch. His hands traced the curve of her spine, up to cup the back of her head, to better angle her against him. Kirsty moaned into his mouth, which made him make an equally guttural noise. Her fingers explored the curve of his shoulders, down to the solid muscle in his arms. She could only think one thing—want.

"Kirsty are you—oh." Magenta strode into the room. "Oh, I see. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Yes. Go away," Lake said against Kirsty's lips.

Kirsty didn't need to see the grin on Magenta's face to know it was there. She struggled out of her lust-filled daze to push away from Lake. His darkened eyes told her clearly that he wasn't pleased—or finished.

"So." Kirsty took a deep breath and shot for polite. "Thanks for coming around to discuss the show."

He cocked an eyebrow at her waiting for more, but that was all he was getting. At last, he shook his head slowly.

"You're killing me here," he told her, then sauntered from the room.

Kirsty tried to hide the desperate look of longing she knew was on her face as she watched him go. Fortunately Magenta's smug grin helped her focus on other things.

"Don't say a word," Kirsty warned.

"Me?" Magenta pointed at herself and went all wide-eyed. "I wouldn't dare." She turned to leave. "To you, anyway," she said with a mischievous grin.

Kirsty flopped into the chair. This was all she needed. Rumours of her making out with the enemy. Actually, that wasn't what she needed. She needed more making out with the enemy. A lot more. She picked up the phone where Lake had dropped it on the desk and placed it back in its base

First she needed to get her head around hearing from her ex. She had a nasty feeling that it wouldn't be the last of it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was model-picking day at the Presbyterian Church hall. The sky was that heavy purple colour Kirsty had only ever seen in Scotland, and the hills around the town were dark. It seemed that the whole place was brooding. To make things even gloomier, they were well into Scottish winter weather, which meant ice-cold drizzle all day long. As Kirsty made her way up the high street to the old grey stone church, she wondered what she was doing. Who in their right mind wanted to see women freeze to death in their underwear in the middle of winter? It was a stupid idea. No amount of outside heating would make the runway warm. The models would be tottering down it, covered in goosebumps and sporting a fetching shade of ice-blue skin.

To make matters worse, once the church came into view she realised she wasn't the only idiot in Scotland. There was a queue of women waiting to audition that stretched right round the old church. All of them wrapped in layers of winter clothes, all of them wearing hats and all of them clutching mugs of hot tea. Nearby, Morag was manning a makeshift stall selling her famous pies and hot drinks. Kirsty narrowed her eyes at the hypocrite. She was fast to criticise the runway show, but even faster to make some money from it.

"Are you ready?" Lake said as he came up behind her.

He flung an arm around her shoulders, which Kirsty shrugged out of, but not before she felt her skin tingle. Lake chuckled and thrust his hands in his pockets instead. The man was insufferable. Around him her hormones went into overdrive and she behaved like a teenager. It was embarrassing. Lake waved to the women in the line and seemed to be amused when they giggled and pointed at him.

"Stop behaving like a child," Kirsty told him. "This is a serious process."

He bumped his shoulder against hers.

"Get out of the wrong side of the bed this morning?" he said. "I know what your problem is—you're in the wrong bed. You should be in mine."

Kirsty sighed as she tugged at the heavy wooden door. Lake took it from her and motioned for her to go inside.

"Are you ever going to give up?" she said.

"Are you?"

He took a step towards her in the dark vestibule. Kirsty stepped backwards, bumping into the leaflet-covered, wood-panelled wall. He put a hand on the wall beside her head and leaned into her.

"Come on, Kirsty, you know you want to give in," he said softly. "I'm not usually one for advocating surrender, but in this case, I would recommend it. In this case, surrender would be a very good option."

Kirsty licked her lips at the thought of it. Surrender. To Lake.

The door to the church hall opened. Lake stepped back smoothly and smiled at Caroline—who, as usual, was blissfully unaware of the undercurrent in the room.

"Good," she said in her crisp business tone. "You're here on time."

"As if we would dare to be anything else," Kirsty teased.

Caroline smiled at her, well aware of how uptight she was about timekeeping.

"Here are the rules," Caroline said, handing them a pile of paperwork. "I printed them out for you."

"Of course you did," Kirsty said with a smile.

Lake read them as though they were a mission brief for an overseas operation. She'd read Suzanne Brockman's books; she knew how the army worked.

"You'll sit at the red table," Caroline told Kirsty. "That means you're at the blue, Lake. The women who're auditioning will walk down the centre of the hall, and you make a mark on your sheet if you want them."

Lake cleared his throat. Caroline looked at him blankly while he suppressed a smile.

"She means want them for models, not want them in bed," Kirsty told him.

Caroline's jaw dropped.

"I know that," Lake said, but his mouth did that wanting-to-smile twitch thing that made Kirsty want to put a finger on the spot to stop it.

"Okay," Caroline said. "You mark the women you want." Kirsty watched Lake struggle not to laugh. "And then once it's over, you hand the sheets to me and I'll decide who gets whom in a fair and unbiased manner."

"What if we want the same woman? Do we share?"

Kirsty narrowed her eyes at him.

"No. We don't share."

"I'll sort it all out," Caroline said, completely oblivious to any double meaning that was floating around.

When Caroline walked ahead of them, Kirsty kicked Lake on the back of the leg.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"You know fine well," she told him. "Stop with the double entendres. You'll embarrass Caroline."

"Seriously? It goes over her head."

"She'll get it eventually. So stop it."

"Fine."

He held up his hands in mock surrender and sauntered to his appointed blue desk.

There had been an ad in the local paper announcing that anyone interested in auditioning for the fashion show should turn up ready to walk in a straight line wearing their swimwear. It had been Kirsty's idea to get people to wear swimwear. Women were more used to being seen in public in their swimsuit then they were in their underwear. Plus, after two years of running her shop, she knew how ugly some of the underwear in Invertary was and she didn't want to spend an hour looking at it.

"Should we have music?" Lake asked.