What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(56)

Georgie ordered her frozen yogurt topped with fresh blueberries and mango. Bram grumbled about wanting a damned Dairy Queen and didn’t get anything. As they came out of the shop, the half a dozen photographers who’d gathered sprang to attention.

“Georgie! Bram! We haven’t seen you guys in a few days. Where have you been?”

“We’re newlyweds,” Bram shot back. “Where do you think?”

“Georgie, anything you want to say about Jade Gentry’s miscarriage?”

“Have you talked to Lance?”

“Are you two planning a family?”

The questions kept coming until a photographer with a pronounced Brooklyn accent called out, “Bram, are you still having trouble landing a decent job? I guess Georgie and her money came along just in time.”

Bram tensed, and Georgie snaked her arm through his. “I don’t know who you are”—she maintained her smile—“but Bram’s days of slugging photographers who act like worms aren’t all that far behind him. Or maybe that’s what you want?”

A few of the other paps regarded the man with disgust, but that didn’t prevent them from keeping their cameras ready in case Bram lost his temper. A shot of him throwing a punch would bring thousands of dollars, along with the possibility of a lucrative legal settlement for the photographer who’d provoked the attack.

“I wasn’t going to hit him,” Bram said as they finally broke clear. “I’m not stupid enough to fall for that crap.”

“Only because you fell for it so many times in the past.”

He cocked his head toward the paps, who were on their heels. “Let’s give them their money shot.”

“Which is…?”

“You’ll see.” He took her hand and pulled her down the sidewalk, the paps trailing close behind.





Chapter 13




The small shop with its rich, mustard yellow exterior reminded Georgie of an old-fashioned British haberdashery. Above the door, an art nouveau figure of a woman curled around the glossy black letters that spelled out the shop’s name. provocative. The two os formed her breasts.

Georgie had heard about the upscale sex shop from April, but she’d never visited. “Excellent idea,” she said.

“And here I expected you to go all prudish on me.” Bram’s hand settled in the small of her back.

“I haven’t done prudish in years.”

“You could have fooled me.” He held the door open for her, and they stepped inside the store’s perfumed interior accompanied by the shouts of the photographers and the deafening click of shutters. Trespassing laws would keep the paps outside, and they scrambled for position, trying to get a shot through the window.

The Edwardian interior featured subtle mustard yellow walls and warm wooden moldings. A painted spray of peacock feathers encircled the chandelier, and erotic Aubrey Beardsley drawings mounted in gold frames decorated the walls. She and Bram were the only customers, although she suspected that would change as word of their presence spread.

The shop was a buffet of sexual fantasy. Bram zeroed in on the erotic lingerie collection, while Georgie couldn’t pull her eyes away from an artistically arranged display of dildos in front of an antique mirror. She knew she’d stared too long when Bram’s lips brushed her ear. “I’ll be happy to lend you mine.”

Georgie’s stomach took a tiny dip.

The clerk, a middle-aged woman with long brunette hair, a tastefully shrink-wrapped top, and a gauzy skirt, snapped to attention as she recognized them. Her peep-toe stilettos sank into the carpet. “Welcome to Provocative.”

“Thanks,” Bram replied. “Interesting place.”

Breathless from the excitement of having two such notorious celebrities in her store, the clerk began listing the shop’s special features. “We have a fabulous bondage center through that arch-way. Lovely whips, paddles, nipple clamps, and some really luxurious restraints. You’ll be surprised how comfortable they are. All our toys are high quality. As you can see, we have a wide variety of dildos, vibrators, some jade cock rings, and”—she gestured toward a glass case—“a really beautiful set of pearl anal beads.”

Georgie winced. She’d heard of anal beads, but she’d never quite figured out how or why anyone would use them.

As the clerk turned away to survey the shelves, Bram whispered, “Been there, done that. Although not with you.”

Her stomach took another dip.

The clerk addressed Georgie. “I just finished unpacking a new shipment of jeweled merkins. Have you ever worn a merkin?”

“Give me a hint.”

With a prim smile, the saleswoman clasped her hands at her waist like an art museum docent. “Merkins were originally pubic wigs worn by prostitutes to conceal either thinning pubic hair or syphilis. The modern versions are much sexier, and with so many women going bare, they’ve become quite popular.”

Georgie was both erotically and philosophically opposed to ripping out all her pubic hair. The idea of completely giving up something so womanly to look like a prepubescent girl smacked too much of kiddie porn. But the salesclerk had already opened a display case and taken out a jeweled, triangular piece set with sparkling purple, blue, and crimson crystals. Georgie examined the object and saw a small V-shaped indenture at the bottom point of the triangle, obviously put there to showcase the cleft beyond. “Naturally, all our merkins come with adhesive.”