Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(48)

“If these flames are your lost youth, you need to go out and find it.”

They reached her back door. Ford turned the door handle and sighed. “When are you going to start locking your door?”

“This is Fool’s Gold. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“It could.”

“Oh, please.” She brushed off his comment. “You want to come in?”

“I am in.”

“Okay.” She kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot across the hardwood entryway. “That’s always the best part of the evening. Even the heels that start out comfortable usually end up hurting by the end of the night. There’s math involved. An inverse relationship between how gorgeous the shoes are and how much they hurt my feet.”

She dropped her purse on a small table in the hall and started toward the living room. Halfway there, she paused.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Ford shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it on the coatrack by the door. His tie followed. He toed out of his shoes and then walked toward her with an air of determination that made her tummy get all fluttery.

“You have this strange look in your eye,” she murmured. “It’s predatory.”

“That’s how I’m feeling.”

She swallowed against her suddenly dry throat. She wasn’t nervous, not exactly. If she had to define the tingle in her body, she would say it was anticipation.

He reached for her and she sidestepped him. “We have to talk first,” she said.

One eyebrow rose. “I’m not that interested in conversation.”

“Still, it’s necessary. Before we do, you know, the sex thing.”

His mouth twitched. “The sex thing?”

“Uh-huh. Because that’s where this is going.”

He shifted so he was leaning against the wall. “Good to know. What do we have to talk about?”

This was not the best time for her head to be fuzzy, she thought, sure she had a comprehensive list memorized but unable to recall it that second.

“I’m on the pill,” she began. “I like having my periods regulated, and my doctor said it was safe for me to stay on it after my divorce.”

“I brought condoms. We’ll still use them.”

“You planned this?”

“I was optimistic. Besides, I’m a SEAL. It’s my job to be prepared.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought that was the Boy Scouts.”

“Them, too. What else?”

“I don’t think I’m doing it right,” she admitted. “The sex thing. If I was good in bed, Eric wouldn’t be g*y.”

“You don’t have that much power.”

“It wasn’t very good with Billy, either.”

“Or the hordes?”

She sighed. “Right. Him, too. I think it’s me. That I’m not—” She waved a hand up and down the front of her body. “Maybe there are parts missing or something.”

He straightened. “Is that it?”

“Don’t you want to talk about the parts?”

His gaze drifted over her body. “I would love to, but not in the way you mean.” He took a step toward her. “Because if that’s all, I’d like to get started.”

She scurried back a couple of steps. “No, that’s not all. You can’t undress me.”

“Is this an Amish thing?”

“Amish? What do the Amish have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. Why can’t I undress you?”

She felt herself flushing. “What do you know about SPANX?”

Now it was his turn to look startled. “You want me to spank you?”

“No! Of course not. Jeez. Not spanking. SPANX. It’s...” She sucked in a breath. “It’s shape-wear. You can’t take it off me. It’s not sexy and you’ll probably hurt your back. I’m not this skinny naturally. I have to take it off myself or you won’t want to have sex with me.”

Was he being stupid on purpose or was this a guy thing?

“Just go in the bedroom and wait,” she told him. “I’ll take care of this myself and join you.”

“No way. You’re not taking care of anything yourself. Besides, if we’re talking underwear, I want to watch.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ISABEL HAD NOT PLANNED to relive the granny-panty scene from Bridget Jones’s Diary ever, but here she was, having her own humiliating moment.

“But I could be almost naked,” she told Ford. “With almost no work on your part. Isn’t that nice to think about?”

“I like the work.” He both looked and sounded confused. “Isabel, I’ve been with my share of women. There’s not very much I haven’t seen.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen this!”

Before she could come to her senses, she undid the hooks holding the wrap dress in place and let the silky garment fall to the floor. She stood in front of him wearing her beige shape-wear that went from the scoop-neck top to midthigh.

“It’s a slip,” he said.

She put her hands on her hips and momentarily enjoyed how narrow and firm they felt. Of course, all that was going to change when she wrestled her way out of the SPANX.