Lynda's Lace (8 page)

To girls kissing.

And then more. Touching each other’s breasts, licking each other…everywhere.

He’d seen it in the porn movies he occasionally ordered on pay-per-view if he was feeling a little horny, not dating anybody, and wanted some help getting himself off. Hell, he’d even seen a little bit of it on Bourbon Street. He understood well enough that most guys got into it—when he was younger, he’d enjoyed the notion, too. But it had never made him as hot as it was making him in this very moment.

Girls kissing.

He imagined it again.

Ginger kissing her bartender girlfriend.

Then…
Lynda
. Kissing her customer in the low-cut top.

He wondered…

Would she ever?

Could she want to?

Of course not.

This was Lynda, the woman he was seriously considering proposing to soon. She was sexy as hell and exciting in bed, but…nothing about her had ever really said “untraditional” to him.

Yet then an idea entered his head. Was it just a fantasy? Or…one more thing, one more burning urge, that he longed to make into a reality?

Glancing toward the back room, he shook his head at his own insane thoughts. Was he
seriously
considering this?
Seriously
?

No, no way. He couldn’t do it. It was over the top, especially given that they’d never even discussed such a thing. It would be a huge violation of trust and she’d hate him forever.

Unless…he made it completely clear that it was okay if she didn’t want to do it, that he was just putting it out there as an idea, a possibility.

It would be risky even then, though.

And it was probably stupid to even contemplate such a wild thought.

But he couldn’t seem to control those damnable reckless urges for her that had begun plaguing him the last week or so, and the fantasy in his head had him
so
hard and
so
very hungry for her.

He weighed the factors and found a few things already in his
favor
. Lynda loved sex—that was clear—their sex life was great. And
he
loved the way she looked in lacy lingerie, so another little bit of it could only up the heat. And she hadn’t seemed to mind watching the strippers on that steamy night last week—she’d even seemed somewhat interested, kind of flirtatious about it.

This was a lot different than watching a stripper, of course—a
hell
of a lot different. And he should probably be hung by his balls for even contemplating this. He loved the woman—and he couldn’t quite believe he was going to risk upsetting her by doing something she’d probably find shocking and offensive.

But his cock disagreed.

And his cock seemed to have a mind of its own lately, especially when it came to his sweet Lynda.

And…well, hadn’t they agreed they’d be open and honest with each other? Even if he still feared she was holding something back, that didn’t mean
he
should hold back, right?

Of course, no matter how he tried to justify it, it remained an insane thing to do. Unthinkable. Unconscionable.

And he almost
knew
he’d end up regretting it.

But when the visions in his head grew more and more detailed with each passing second, it was just too hot and beautiful for him to push down.

His heart in his throat, he looked up at Ginger when she came back through the doorway. “Hey, Gin, I have a proposition for you.”

Chapter Five

“I don’t know if I can go on like this,” Lynda told Liz over beignets at the Café
du
Monde
on Wednesday afternoon. They sat in the shade of the famous green-and-white awning, eating pastries and drinking café au
laits
. “I thought I could, but now I’m not sure.”

“I
knew
pretending to be something you weren’t was a mistake,” Liz said, using one hand to shove a lock of hair behind her ear and the other to lift a bite of the sugary confection to her mouth.

Lynda pursed her lips. “
You
pretended to be something you weren’t when you met Jack,” she couldn’t resist reminding her. In fact, she’d loaned Liz a racy dress just for the occasion.

“Yeah, but the act didn’t hold up long, if you recall.”

Lynda sighed wistfully. “No, just long enough for Jack to see a few glimpses of your inner vixen and decide he needed to show you everything you were missing.” If only Jordan could be so bold and sexually creative as the tales she’d heard from Liz about her sizzling courtship with Jack. “The problem is, with Jordan, I’m going in the wrong direction—covering
up
my inner vixen. And I thought I could do it, thought I had convinced myself that regular sex is enough, but today I’m feeling all hot and horny and as if regular sex could
never
fulfill
me.”

“Then you have to tell him.”

“Do you know what I want?” she asked, ignoring Liz’s reply as she got on a roll. “I want a man who loves me
and
who wants me to be just as wild and dirty as I naturally am. But I just don’t think I can have both of those things—at least not with Jordan.”

Across from her, Liz lowered her beignet to her plate, looking disgusted. “Well, if you don’t tell him what you want,
of course
you can’t. But for all you know, he’ll
love
finding out you’re such an adventurous woman!”

“I can’t tell him,” Lynda said morosely.

As a horse and carriage clopped by a few yards away on Decatur, Liz flashed a look of disapproval. “And just why not?”

“I’ve tried—sort of—and I can’t seem to get it out. Even when I have the perfect opportunity. And I think it’s because…well, I can’t bear to mar the way he thinks of me. No man has ever thought I was so perfect or been so proud to take me places and introduce me to people. No man has ever looked at me like I’m so flawless. And no matter how I try, I just can’t risk messing that up.”

Liz appeared confused now, not to mention aghast—understandably, Lynda supposed. “So you’re saying you’re willing to lose him or break up with him, as opposed to trying to save the relationship by telling him about the real you?”

Numbly, Lynda nodded. She knew it sounded stupid, but she’d been thinking it over and it was the conclusion she’d drawn. “Liz, I just don’t
get
guys like Jordan. I get guys like
Charlie
.” She’d told Liz all the horror stories about her ex. “All through high school and after, right up until I got married, the only guys who were really crazy about me were…well, the ones who turned out to be lowlife losers, and I would have seen it from the beginning if I’d looked, because the signs were always there.

“After Charlie, of course, I quit paying attention. Sex just became a social thing and I made that clear to any guy I hooked up with, so I quit even
thinking
about whether the guys were good ones or bad, as long as they had a nice cock and knew how to use it.

“Even lately, after I started realizing I might want more from a guy than just sex, I never really expected a man like Jordan to enter my life, or to think I was worthy of him. He’s just too wonderful. And if I can’t have him the way I want him… Well, if we split up, I’d just prefer that he remember me the way he
thinks
of me, not the way I really am. And if I tell him the truth, I’m almost sure we’ll split up, so why mar his image of me?”

Liz let out a derisive sigh. “Look, I understand why you don’t want to mar his perfect vision—but this is
not
the Lynda I know and love. The Lynda
I
know is honest and forthright and doesn’t care if anyone doesn’t like it. She’s bold and outgoing and gets what she wants. And mostly, the Lynda I know is
happy
. You haven’t seemed like
any
of those things lately, and I think if you’re honest with Jordan, no matter what happens, you’ll at least get
you
back. Know what I mean?”

Linda let out a long, tired breath. She did know what Liz meant. In fact, she missed her old self—this new, refined Lynda was for the birds. “I guess,” she finally admitted, “but part of the problem here is that I’m in love with him. That really complicates things. There’s a lot more at risk by being honest. God, I never thought I’d be choosing between a man I love and…some guy in a bar who’ll wear a mask and tie me up and make me call him daddy.”

Liz laughed, and so did Lynda, glad she’d injected a little levity into the conversation. Yet Liz still spoke dryly when she said, “What I can’t believe is that there’s actually any contest. I mean, are you listening to yourself? Seriously considering breaking things off with Jordan just so you can go have wild sex with other people? Without giving him a chance to be wild first? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just need a good orgasm.”

“That’s the problem. I need
more
than orgasms. I need
sex toys
. I need a little
force
. I need
the forbidden
.”

Liz sounded thoroughly exasperated with her now. “And you might be able to have all that stuff—with Jordan—if you’d just suggest it to him and see what he says.”

Lynda shoved the last bite of a nearly forgotten beignet in her mouth, at a loss for an answer. “Here’s what it boils down to. I want to go through life knowing that one person, just one person, who I really care for, thinks I’m perfect. Apparently, I value that so much that I’m just not willing to risk losing it, even if I lose everything else just to keep it. I know that sounds crazy, but is wanting him to think I’m perfect such a horrible thing?”

* * * * *

Lynda had just changed into a pair of jogging pants and settled on the sofa to watch a little TV on Wednesday evening when the doorbell rang. She looked up, surprised. The only people who really knew she was staying at the apartment right now were Jordan and Liz, and neither was the type to stop by without calling first.

Unless, of course, Jordan wanted to surprise her or something. She hoped not. She was just as in love with him as she’d been a few days ago, but the sobering realization she’d shared with Liz today had her wanting to keep to herself and think all this through.

Everything Liz had said made sense—why give him up without at least seeing if he’d be open to some kinkier sex?—but that damn perfect vision he had of her remained so important to her,
too
important. She didn’t think she could go on playing prim and proper Lynda who wears lace and likes the missionary position. Yet she’d never been the delicate kind of woman a man
cherished
—and she didn’t want to stop being that, at least in Jordan’s memory.

Clicking off the TV with the remote, she rose to open the door, shocked to find Jordan’s
coworker
, Ginger, on the other side. She’d had a few friendly conversations with Ginger at Jordan’s shop, but she couldn’t imagine what the attractive brunette was doing on her doorstep. As usual, Ginger looked fabulous in a pair of embroidered jeans, a clingy low-cut sweater that accentuated her breasts, and a fitted leather jacket. “Ginger—hi. This is a surprise.”

“I know,” Ginger replied with a confident half-smile. “I’ve been sent on a mission.”

Lynda blinked. “A mission?” Only then did it fully register that Ginger held a pristine white box with a pink ribbon tied around it. When she held it out, Lynda said, “This is from Jordan?”

The other woman gave a short nod as she handed the gift off to Lynda. “May I come in? He wanted me to wait while you open it.”

Lynda backed up a bit, allowing Ginger into the apartment, but she had no idea what was going on and felt a bit disoriented. The big, pretty bow on the box had Jordan written all over it, but the method of delivery was out of character and confusing.

When she looked up, Ginger had headed toward the living room that overlooked St. Peter Street and taken a seat on the couch as comfortably as if she lived there. Still off balance, Lynda sat down in the adjacent easy chair, lowering the white box to her lap. “Um, not that I don’t enjoy your company, Ginger, but is there any particular reason Jordan didn’t deliver this himself?”

Ginger smiled slightly, as if anticipating the question. “He said he just wanted to try doing things a little differently as a way to spice things up. He said to tell you to trust him and you’ll see where this is leading very soon.”

Hmm. Spicing things up sounded good—even if not very Jordan-like. But she couldn’t imagine what he was planning or what Ginger delivering a gift could possibly have to do with it. “Okay,” she said, sounding a bit tentative, even to her own ears.

Yet Ginger, always confident, appeared unfazed by Lynda’s uncertainty. “Go ahead. Open it.”

“All right.” But this was getting weirder by the moment. What the hell was Jordan planning? Although…as odd as it seemed, she couldn’t deny the little frisson of anticipation now running like an electrical current along her skin.

She pulled on the pink ribbon, untying it and letting it fall free around the package. Then she removed the lid to find, not surprisingly, some item made of lace resting in a nest of pink tissue paper. And—
argh
—not only was it lace, it was
white
lace. How much more virginal could you get?

She tried not to cringe, tried not to let the sight ruin the building anticipation.

After a quick glance toward Ginger, she pulled out the lingerie to discover it was a merry widow. Which, as luck would have it, was one of her
favorite
pieces of naughty apparel, so that excited her a little. It would haven been better if it had been constructed of black leather, or even red or black lace—but she knew it would hug her body snugly and make her look sexy for Jordan, albeit a little too saintly for her liking. She spied white stockings with lace tops still nestled in the pink paper.