Come Fly With Me (70 page)

"I
might
have
to
think
about
that—I
don't
want
you
thinking
you'll
be
entitled
to
something,"
she
replied.

"Darling,
I'm
a
Southerner.
I
grew
up
feeling
entitled.
See
you
at
seven-thirty,"
he
smiled.

Allison
stood
in
front
of
her
closet
wearing
a
pair
of
hip
hugging
black
pants
and
a
bra,
shaking
her
head
in
disgust.
She
flicked
the
hangers
impatiently.
Nothing.
There
was
absolutely
nothing
here
to
wear.
She
stalked
over
to
her
armoire
and
yanked
it
open.
A
lacy
black
camisole...hm,
too
sexy
for
a
first
date.
She
pulled
out
a
maroon
turtleneck...too
prim
for
a
first
date.
She
settled
on
a
soft-pink
cashmere
twin
set
and
flipped
three
silvery,
long
chains
around
her
neck.
A
look
in
the
mirror
had
her
groaning
aloud,
and
she
headed
back
to
the
closet.
She
selected
a
short
black
skirt
and
leather
boots
and
returned
to
the
mirror
to
survey
the
overall
effect.
Her
bangs
had
grown
out,
and
her
hair
was
parted
crisply
down
the
middle.
She
flipped
her
head
forward
and
tried
to
tousle
her
hair
like
she
saw
the
women
do
on
the
shampoo
commercials.
She
straightened
up
again.
Her
silky
hair
still
swung
straight
down
to
her
shoulders,
and
she
gave
up
trying
to
have
it
look
soft
and
casual.
She
spied
the
clock
on
her
bed
stand
and
gasped;
it
was
a
few
minutes
before
seven.
Grabbing
her
coat,
she
yanked
open
the
door
just
as
Kenyon
was
raising
his
hand
to
knock

"Where
are
you
rushing
off
to?"
he
asked.

"Going
out."

"To
a
P.T.A.
meeting?"

"Ha,
ha,
move
please,
I'm
late."

"Your
mother
dresses
sexier
than
that
when
she
throws
out
the
garbage,"
he
huffed.
"Come
with
me."
He
grabbed
her
hand
and
half-dragged
her
to
the
back
of
the
loft.

"I
don't
have
time
for
this,"
she
protested.

He
ignored
her
and
pointed
at
the
sweater
set,
"Off
with
that."
He
pulled
a
sheer
Donna
Karan
blouse
in
a
rich
claret
out
of
the
closet
and
handed
it
to
her.

She
stood
with
her
arms
at
her
side,
making
no
move
to
take
the
blouse,
"I'm
not
wearing
that—
it's
too
sexy."

"You're
supposed
to
look
sexy
when
you
go
out
on
a
date,
Ally.
It's
a
given
that
when
a
guy
asks
a
girl
out
on
a
date
and
she
accepts,
that
after
a
candlelight
dinner,
and
a
nice
bottle
of
wine,
that
there
might
be
some
foo-foo."

"Some
foo-foo,"
she
arched
her
brows.
"Well,
in
that
case,
I'm
glad
that
I'm
the
one
who
asked
him
out,
so
the
contractual
implication
is
null
and
void."

"Take
off
the
damned
sweater,
Allison,
and
here."
He
held
out
a
pair
of
red
patent
pumps.

"Oh
no,
not
the
red
pumps."

"Look
me
in
the
eye
and
tell
me
you're
not
attracted
to
Alex."

"Who
said
anything
about
Alex?"

Kenyon
snorted
in
response
and
shoved
the
shoes
into
her
hands.
He
watched
as
she
changed
into
the
blouse
and
took
off
the
boots.

She
looked
at
him,
"Satisfied?"

"Not
yet."

"Step
this
way,"
he
motioned
at
her.
He
pulled
a
brush
out
of
the
bathroom
and
squeezed
some
mousse
into
his
palm.
He
mussed,
pulled
and
teased
her
hair
mercilessly.
When
he
was
done,
she
looked
in
the
mirror.

"Yikes,
I
look
like
I
just
woke
up!"

"Perfect,"
he
said.

She
looked
at
herself
for
a
couple
of
more
minutes,
"Fine,
do
you
also
want
to
come
along
and
cut
my
steak
for
me?"

He
smiled,
"Just
one
more
thing."

"Now
what?"

"Just
remember
to
have
a
good
time,"
he
said
as
he
bent
to
kiss
her
cheek.

****

Alex
was
waiting
when
she
hurried
through
the
door.
She
spotted
him
immediately
as
he
lounged
against
the
bar,
hands
in
his
pockets.
He
straightened
as
he
saw
her
and
flashed
a
wide
grin.

He
leaned
in
to
whisper
in
her
ear.
"You
look
amazing;
remind
me
to
send
a
bunch
of
hydrangeas
to
thank
Kenyon."