“No, Phoebe wasn’t naked. Not entirely. Although the only thing separating decency from the barest of facts was a set of sexy black lingerie. Dropping back against the mantel, Pace scrubbed his eyes. When he refocused, Phoebe was still there, looking like a pin-up, propped at a lazy angle against the railing, one shapely leg bent, an arm posed casually above her head. Roughly teased hair sat high in a wild, messy bun. His pulse-rate tripped out as she began to move, slinking down the stairs with... an unmistakable feline prowess, dragging a black silk night-coat behind her. “Pace, you look a little piqued.” Her voice was as sweet and thick as a smear of whipped cream. “Did I catch you off-guard? I’m sure I told you I wanted to change.” Mischief twinkled in her eyes, while a twinge of wicked amusement framed her mouth. “Haven’t you heard? It’s not polite to stare.” She moved the rest of the way down the stairs and joined him. By the dancing flames of the fire she arched a brow and dropped the coat before one red-lacquered fingertip reached out.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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