“Noah Crawford,” a sultry Latin voice cooed from behind me.
Delaine looked up right as a pair of hands encircled my waist from behind and warm breath trickled over my skin. “I’ve missed you, lover. Where have you been hiding?” Fernanda whispered in my ear.
I turned my head to the side and gave her my best smile, never taking my eyes off Delaine because her reaction was too priceless, comical even. The lift of her brow and the way she defiantly raised her chin exposed her jealousy.
Well, now, this could get interesting.
“Fernanda,” I acknowledged my onetime mistress as I turned and gave her cheek a lingering kiss. “How have you been?”
“Lonely,” she said with a pout.
I thumbed the pout and then stroked her cheek. “Aw, a beautiful woman like you? Lonely? I find that very hard to believe.”
Delaine cleared her throat, and when I looked up at her, she tossed her head to the side and continued to browse, acting as if she hadn’t been paying attention to the interaction. She wasn’t fooling anyone.
I took Fernanda by the hand and walked her toward my girl. “I’d like to introduce you to someone. Fernanda, this is Delaine. Delaine, meet the very voluptuous Fernanda.”
I threw that in there on purpose. But she really was voluptuous: long legs, jet-black shiny hair, full lips, and a figure that made grown men cry. Le Petit Boudoir was just a little side job. Her main income came from nude modeling for various prominent magazines aimed at refined gentlemen.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Delaine,” Fernanda said with a pleasant smile as she offered her hand in greeting.
Delaine looked at me and then back to Fernanda before she finally shook her hand. “You too.” Her words were curt and her tone sharp enough to cut glass.
“So,” Fernanda said, retracting her hand and sliding it around my arm while pressing her other hand to my chest possessively. “Are you treating the lovely lady today?”
Delaine narrowed her eyes, focused on the familiar way in which Fernanda touched me.
I gave Fernanda a flirtatious smile to further taunt Delaine’s little green-eyed monster. “As a matter of fact, I am. Do you have a private room available?”
“Anything and everything I have is available to you, Noah Crawford. You know that.” She laughed and tossed her long hair over her shoulder enticingly before leading me toward the back.
Delaine was left to trail behind us, and I had to hide my smirk. Payback was a bitch, and she was seething with jealous rage. I could feel it rippling off her like heat off a desert highway.
We were escorted into a private dressing room. Three of the four walls were covered in mirrors, and there was a smaller room for the lady to change into different outfits before coming out and modeling for whomever she brought along for the show. Two racks of the top-selling lingerie were stationed in one corner beside a minibar. In the opposite corner there was a red velvet-covered bench. Fernanda led me to the center of the room and sat me down in an oversized armchair that was in the perfect position to see everything.
Delaine sat on the bench seat with her arms crossed over her chest. “Pick something that you like and try it on,” I told her, motioning toward the rack of garments.
“Noah, I don’t think—” she started.
Fernanda cut her off. Of course she sensed the tension and wanted to help out. “You know what? You look like my size. Why don’t I pick something out for you? I know what he likes.”
Delaine’s claws shot out like she was the daughter of Wolverine. Or it seemed that way to me, anyway; I might have been seeing things. Without waiting for an answer, Fernanda left the room to go back into the shop. Delaine turned on me immediately, not even bothering to lower her voice.
“Did you fuck her?”
“Does it matter?” I stood and walked over to the bar to pour myself a drink.
“Yes, it matters.”
“Why? Are you jealous? Because I fucked you, too, and you get the benefit of a whole hell of a lot more fucking than she ever got. Does that make you feel better?” I took a sip of the scotch I’d poured for myself.
“You’re disgusting!” she huffed, and then turned away from me again.
“I’m insatiable. Big difference.”
“Why did you even need to spend millions of dollars on me when Little Miss Cuchi Cuchi Charo was willing to make anything and everything available to you?” she asked, mocking Fernanda’s accent. It was kind of cute.
“Charo is from Spain. Fernanda is Argentinean,” I corrected her. “And while Fernanda is quite pleasing to the eye, a lot of eyes have been pleased by her.” I winked and tilted my glass toward her. “It wouldn’t work between her and me in public. But she’s cool. She understands.”
She started to say something in response, but Fernanda came back in and started hanging garments up in the smaller dressing area. “I picked out a few things I thought would really accentuate your figure.”
“Go ahead, Delaine,” I said, taking my seat again. “Show me.”
She sat there, stubborn and unmoving. Fernanda looked at her and then back at me in question.
I shrugged. “She’s shy.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay. I can model them for you, if you want.”
God bless Fernanda and her eagerness to please. This couldn’t have turned out better if I’d planned it.
“You know, I think that’s a fantastic idea, Fernanda,” Delaine spoke up. Her voice was hard and sarcastic as she stood up with a huff. “I’m sure Noah would prefer to see you in them, anyway. In fact, let me give you two some privacy.” She turned on me and narrowed her eyes. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”