'Not Phoebe, and he didn't mention Athena or Brie, so this one's an entirely new challenge.' She could bet her name began with a C, unless the Cs were all unavailable. 'He might even have taken her out to lunch,' she told Maybelle. 'He said he'd had a root canal. He might have been lying, but he did look awful when he came back.'
Maybelle let out a bark of laughter. 'I consulted with a man today who acted like tawkin' to me was worse than havin' a root canal,' she said, shaking her head.
'Men,' Mallory said. 'They just hate opening up, don't they?'
'Yep, jes' like oysters,' Maybelle said. Her eyes gleamed with victory. 'I knew jes' by lookin' at this one that pryin' wouldn't do no good. I had to smash his shell with a sledge hammer. I made him come back a second time in the same day. That's a record.'
Mallory felt a certain sympathy for the guy. 'What was his problem, since we're not mentioning names?' she asked.
'Oh, one of the old standards,' Maybelle said offhandedly. 'He's always had a way with the ladies, but now he wants 'em to look at him in a different way. If you ask me, he's in love with one gal and don't know it yet, and even if he did know it, he wouldn't have no idea how to tell her.'
Maybelle zoomed by toward a dressing room. 'I want this,' Mallory said.
Maybelle screeched to a halt. 'That's real purty.' She said to the salesperson. 'Get her one to try on, will you, hon?'
In the dressing room Mallory reached first for the hot pink ensemble. She had a feeling about it, pure intuition, and the feeling intensified when she stepped into the tiny gown. She was naked beneath it, and it brushed her body like a caress. She wriggled with pleasure. The familiar ache of wanting deepened until she thought her knees might buckle under her. If Carter had been in the dressing room with her-
She'd better try the robe. She put it on, wrapped it across her breasts, tied it, then watched it begin to part in the front, silk sliding against silk. For a moment she leaned against the dressing room wall.
'You doin' okay in there?' Maybelle screeched.
'Yes.' She whispered the word.
'Huh?'
'I finally know what you mean,' she said just loudly enough to carry through the door. 'Now I feel sexy.'
'Whatever she's got on,' she heard Maybelle hiss to the saleslady, 'we'll take it.' Then her voice came faintly through the closed door. 'Now that you feel it, hon, what're you gonna do about it?'
It felt a lot like how going to confession must feel. In the anonymity of the dressing room, speaking softly through the door, Mallory told Maybelle exactly what she intended to do.
When she got home with her treasure, lacy bras and panties, the pink robe and gown and several more equally sheer and arousing sleep outfits, she realized she hadn't asked Maybelle if she'd started reading her mother's book.
Her mother-and her books-were way down on her list of priorities right now. What was on her mind was that it was only eight-twenty and Carter was at home. She could tell he was at home because his overcoat lay on one chair and his tie on another, his briefcase was open and the contents spread out over the table that held the Christmas tree. A lot of Carter was there to look at, just not Carter himself. He had to be in his bedroom. Alone, she hoped.
She didn't hear any giggling female voices or see any evidence of a woman, no stiletto heels kicked into a corner, no feminine-looking coat or handbag. Whatever he'd done tonight must have ended in complete disaster. She tried to feel sorry, but it wasn't easy.
She tiptoed into her own room with her new unmentionables, then tiptoed back out. She couldn't help herself- she had to hang up that overcoat. Once she'd done that, she had to lay the tie out in a neat fold on the little table behind the mistletoe-hung arch, and once she'd done that, she had to put his papers into squared-off stacks.
Now she could put her own things away. Suddenly starving, she went to her bedroom and ordered from room service. 'Shall we deliver your dinner with Mr. Compton's?' said the voice that answered the phone.
'One dinner or two?' she wanted to ask, but couldn't. She thought about it for a minute. 'No, bring his when it's ready.'
It was a little like a French farce. From her bedroom, she heard the bell ring, then heard Carter tiptoe out to receive his room service order. Mallory had her ear glued to the door. It sounded as if the waiter was setting up in his bedroom. So when the bell rang a second time thirty minutes later, she tiptoed out and steered the waiter with his cart into her room. As the waiter left her room, she heard Carter tiptoe out with his empty tray.
She felt the tension building. When she did what she intended to do, she might actually surprise him into compliance. Her plan was what you might call an ambush, very unsportsman-like, but highly effective.
The evening wore on. Mallory ate dinner and did another tiptoeing act to deposit the tray outside the door of the suite. From Carter's room came the muted sounds of an action movie-bam! bang! crash! ker-plooey! Next she took a long, soaking bubble bath. She washed her hair, blow-dried it to a smooth, silky fall, redid her makeup. She found herself drawn to the stock market channel and made herself switch to a romantic movie.
At last she couldn't stand it anymore and tiptoed over to listen at Carter's door. He was asleep. The soft, rumbling snore was a sure sign.
It was time.
As if it were a battle campaign, she checked her ammunition one last time. Makeup, not too much, not too little, her hair, the hang of the hot-pink gown and robe, her fingernails and toenails.
Maybe she was starting too soon.
She sneaked across the sitting room floor, positioned herself outside Carter's door-
She'd forgotten the sheaf of papers she was supposed to wave in his face.
Back across the sitting room. Grab the papers. Back to Carter's door. No nonsense now. Go for it.
She threw open his door with a shattering bang. 'Carter, I've had a brainstorm!' she announced, scurrying into the room before he could find something to throw at her. 'Wake up. I have to talk to you now, while it's fresh on my mind.' She'd reached his bed, where he was thrashing, trying to sit up. She plopped herself onto the edge and drew one knee up until it touched him.
'Is it morning?' he croaked.
'Not yet. This is too important to wait for morning.' The act of parting her legs like that, feeling the robe slide open and the cool air of the room wafting between her thighs, all that while being so close to Carter's overwhelming maleness was having a startling effect on her. It was Carter she was supposed to be seducing, not herself.
She put the sheaf of papers on the other side of him, which gave her all the excuse she needed to lean over him, brushing his chest with her breasts. He seemed to be trying to pull more cover over himself, but her position made it impossible. 'Can you wake up enough to listen?'
He was as awake as he'd ever been in his entire life. His eyes might not be fully open, but under the covers, everything was stirring. In the light that came through the doorway he could see her clearly enough to react to the silkiness of the robe she was wearing, and how little there was of it. Her knee pushed against his thigh and the robe parted, giving him a glimpse of her breasts, smooth, creamy, mounded like ice cream and just begging to be licked. The robe was pink. Strawberry sauce.
She wore a gown under the robe, but it concealed nothing. His hands were itching to slide into that opening in the robe, cup her breasts, bring them to his mouth one at a time, discover and explore her nipples. He wanted to make her scream with pleasure and beg him for more.
His erection, sudden and powerful, ached insistently.
