About That Night...

Julienne supposed she’d be suitably grateful a month or two from now, but at the moment she couldn’t think that far ahead. Not when her hair, her hair, looked so…wild.

“Did you curl it?”

Ramón shook his head. “Didn’t need to. Once I cut into the bulk your natural wave sprang up. Who knew?”

Julienne didn’t and wasn’t about to complain. Not when each glance in the mirror caused her to do a double take.

Looking good, girl.

She held that thought through Kathy’s makeup application and the short walk to Leona’s Boutique.

“None of Leona’s things are off the rack,” Katriona whispered when Ramón rushed through the boutique calling for the owner. “She only deals with New York designers. We’ll find something for you to wear tonight.”

Julienne refused to think about what the minimum payment on her credit card would be next month.

What are you working for anyway? Life’s short. Live.

And live she would. Even if it meant shrugging off a lifetime of reasonable budgeting. Her smile came easily as a svelte older woman appeared and Ramón performed the introductions.

Leona was a sharp-eyed woman who pegged her correct size with one glance. Leona’s Boutique was the type of upscale up-to-the-minute fashion establishment Julienne had simply never considered shopping in before.

With everything from elaborate formal wear to accompanying undergarments in colors like innocently white, perfectly nude and temptress black, Leona’s Boutique catered to women in the mood to indulge themselves.

Julienne allowed herself to be herded into yet another dressing room, and gave in to the excitement of silk shantung skirt sets with plunging scoop necks, sequined sheaths with bare-tie backs and tube dresses that reached the floor in a sweep of clingy satin.

And leather, lots and lots of leather in a rainbow of shades, which seemed to be what everyone thought she should wear to the Risqué tonight.

Julienne pirouetted in the full-length tri-mirror yet again, the red leather slip dress clinging to her body in a way that would have made her blush twenty-one days ago. Right now she only trembled with excitement and blessed Uncle Thad for sharing his low-cost solution to exercising in the field—running. An exercise that kept her toned.

“Yow. Do that again.” Ramón circled his hand in the air, motioning her around once more. “Look at that hair move, sweetheart. God, I’m good.”

“Yes, Ramón, you are. Thank you so much for renovating me with such brilliance and enthusiasm today.” Meeting his gaze reflected in the mirror, she smiled.

“The enthusiasm’s on the house, but I’m charging you for every drop of brilliance,” he said dryly, but when he stepped onto the raised platform to kiss her cheek, Julienne knew he’d been pleased by her praise.

“No problem. I still can’t believe this is me.” She pirouetted again, hair flying around her and earning his smile. “Look at all this skin. I’ll freeze tonight.”

“Leona, shawl, jacket, duster, something. Goose bumps aren’t sexy.”

Katriona reappeared. “All that hair should keep you warm.”

She was right. Julienne’s hair looked almost hedonistic in sheer volume, in the heavy, untamed way it fringed around her face then tumbled over her bare shoulders. And the dress. The leather hugged her from bodice to thigh—accentuating curves she hadn’t realized she’d had—before the leather fanned out to the floor, leaving her knee and calf bared through a sexy slit.

Katriona surveyed her critically. “Needs more cleavage.”

“Cleavage?” Julienne glanced into the mirror again, very pleased with the effect of the leather molding and shaping her breasts into noticeable fullness.

The Naughty Handbook had certainly been right about one thing—sexy clothes definitely affected attitude. This body-hugging red leather transformed her into a stranger.

“Leona,” Katriona said to the owner, who had just stepped through the dressing room door. “Jules needs a Miracle Bra to turn her 34-B into something memorable.”

“I’ve got just the thing.” Handing Ramón a short bolero jacket designed from matching red leather, Leona disappeared from the dressing room only to reappear again a few minutes later with an armful of undergarments Julienne had only seen before on the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. “That’s more than a Miracle Bra.”

The older woman smiled. “Corset bra with garters, a thong and silk stockings to match that exquisite dress.”

“Oh.” Seemed a bit extravagant when she had no intention of letting anyone see beneath her new sexy leather dress—not tonight at any rate. Tonight was for flirting and catching the attention of a very hot-blooded man.

Then again, The Naughty Handbook said that naughty girls dressed the part, both in public and private, and she couldn’t wear those sexy undies without feeling sexy. To prove the point, she held the erotic corset in front of her.

“That’ll do the trick. Trust me, sister.” Katriona spun sideways and struck a pose that emphasized the amazing shape of her own silicone bustline, molded in gold spandex. “It’ll lift and separate those puppies. You’ll kill tonight.”

“Go try them on.” Ramón motioned her toward the booth. “Let’s get the whole effect.”

Julienne lifted her hair to allow Leona to unzip the red leather creation, then hurried inside the small, plush interior of the dressing booth. Peeling the dress away, she stepped into the lace corset, shimmied it up her body. The lace hugged her snugly, made her aware of the way the under-wires forced her breasts high, the way the wispy lace caressed her skin.

The matching thong was no more than a scrap of bright fabric around her hips, decadent beneath the garter straps dangling toward her thighs, awaiting the stockings she’d tossed carelessly onto the upholstered bench.

Catching a glimpse of her bare bottom and the strip of red silk disappearing between her cheeks, Julienne trembled in an unfamiliar wave of feminine satisfaction.

Well, well, look at you, girl. You’re downright sexy in your new finery.

Twirling in a slow circle, she absorbed the sight of lace molding her curves, familiar, yet provocatively unfamiliar.

Naughty girls feel sexy.

Julienne looked the part. She felt the part.

Taking a deep excited breath, she smiled into the mirror. “Nicholas Fairfax, here I come.”

2

That night

NICK FAIRFAX tugged up the knees of his tuxedo slacks and knelt to inspect the cornerstone of the Risqué Theatre. The sidewalk below him was cracked and uneven, the result of too many years of eroding soil and landscaping that had overgrown the boundaries of its original design.

This property needed work, both inside and out, and as the project architect for the theater’s renovation, he would see it restored to its former glory during his stay in Savannah.

Splaying his palm over the Roman numerals indicating the first stone had been laid in 1865, he closed his eyes and quietly pledged the promise he made before beginning every new project. “I’ll do my best.”

By nature Nick wasn’t a superstitious man, yet he felt obliged to declare his intentions before contributing his vision to that of architects from other generations, a passing-the-torch ritual he’d begun when his newly founded company, the Architectural Design Firm or ADF as it had become known, had accepted its first project.

Now, ten years later, ADF had grown into one of the largest historic preservation architectural firms on the West Coast. He enjoyed a success that was as much a result of hard work as good fortune and Nick preferred not to overlook the basics of that success. Or lose sight of the responsibility he undertook when starting work on any historical building.

“I haven’t seen you go wrong yet,” Dale Emerson, ADF’s senior project manager, said. “And we’ve been rebuilding these babies together for a long time.”

Nick appreciated the sentiment, knew Dale took their work just as seriously, which had earned him his place as Nick’s right-hand man. Getting to his feet, he raised an eyebrow. “The Risqué Theatre is a bit richer than our usual fare.”

“Don’t tell me all those naked bodies in the pargeting are giving you cold feet, buddy?”