Free If the Shoe Fits by Megan Mulry Page A

finger to her lips with a little “shhh.” The formal man gave a small smile of understanding and started hauling away the first of three enormous pieces of luggage.
    That taken care of, Sarah made another pass around the room, peeking under the bed and the couch, and back into the closet, and through the bathroom drawers and under the sink, and then went to stand by the side of the bed, looking down at Devon. She rested her hands on her hips and tried to commit every line of his face to memory. She was particularly fond of that corded muscle that ran the length of his neck. And that jawbone. She finally worked up the courage to touch him, giving him a gentle prod on his strong, bare shoulder.
    He grunted.
    Sarah smiled and gave him another jab on the upper arm.
    Nothing.
    She looked down at the bedside table and saw the enormous, flopping peony sitting there, picked it up, dried off the dripping wet stem with the edge of the sheet, then proceeded to trail it provocatively along that muscle on his neck, then along the firm line of his jaw, then across his brow. He was starting to smile, a very happy grin indeed. She was going to be traveling all day and she didn’t want to mess up her hair and makeup, but she couldn’t resist one final kiss. She put the flower back down on the table and turned back to see Devon just coming awake.
    “What are you doing?” He looked disoriented and a little concerned, worried even.
    “I am… I was about to kiss you good-bye.”
    “Where are you going?” His hand was reaching up to pet her cheek, and his voice had an alluring roughness.
    “I’m flying back to Chicago. I split my time between there and New York, usually two to three weeks in each place, then back again. I have meetings at my headquarters in Chicago the rest of this week. I’ve already been here a week, looking at properties in London, and I have a board meeting the week after next—”
    “I mean, when am I going to see you again?”
    Sarah’s eyes held his. “Don’t do that.” She started to turn away from the bed, but he grabbed her wrist.
    “I mean it.” He was starting to come fully awake now and his grip was rather strong against her skin.
    “So do I,” said Sarah, pulling her hand away impatiently as she turned toward the window. “Please don’t pretend this was anything more than a fling…” She turned back to face him, her arms crossed over her chest, and gave a small smile. “An utterly delightful, fabulously sexy, wonderful fling.”
    Sarah girded herself. She was in full battle regalia: long, blond hair no-nonsense straight; pristine ivory Akris jacket with high collar; perfectly tailored wool trousers; big gold hoop earrings paired with her mother’s chunky gold charm bracelet; and her favorite Sarah James caramel suede ankle boots. She was armed.
    “Let’s just let it stay that way. Okay?”
    Devon tried to entertain the very unfamiliar notion that he was not getting his own way. He was speechless.
    “All right then,” she said, taking his silence for tacit agreement and letting her hands drop to her sides. Her palms began to pat the sides of her legs in an impatient gesture. He thought for a split second that she might reach out to shake his hand, then he started laughing so hard, he couldn’t stop.
    She looked at him, then toward the door.
    “Were you about to shake my hand?” he wheezed, then rolled back onto the bed, facedown, and let his laughter be absorbed by the deep, down pillow. He came up for air and she was all business again, arms crossed, toe tapping. “Priceless!” His face fell into the pillow again, his laughter vibrating through the mattress.
    He finally composed himself and turned back to face her, mirth still sparkling in his eyes, resting on his elbows. Sarah tried to look away; it wasn’t really fair of him to flex his back muscles like that, with all that turning and stretching.
    “You are stupendous,” he said, shaking his head in amazement. Then his