Free Dear Sir, I'm Yours by Joely Sue Burkhart

favor?”
    “Anything.”

    That silky seductive voice made shivers slide down her spine. Damn, he’d be good at phone sex. Who was she kidding? From what she’d seen, he was good at anything that had to do with sex. “Can I take your Mustang for a little test drive?”
    “You can drive us tonight if you want.”
    Richard would’ve died before letting her drive his flashy SUV. “Some men don’t like the little woman driving their baby.”
    “Blow the engine up. Run it off a cliff, as long as you’re not in it, of course. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the car, darlin’. You’re my baby and you can drive it anywhere, anyplace, anytime you want.”
    Her throat felt thick and tight, but she tried to laugh it off. “I’m a bit of a speed demon.”
    “Bring it on, darlin’. But I have one request, too.”
    “What?” Anything , her heart screamed.
    “Wear something white, and I’m not talking panties. Actually, I’d prefer you didn’t even have anything on beneath.”
    Remembering that tiny little mini-skirt still in the suitcase stuffed in the guest closet, Rae shuddered. No way in hell, even if the damned thing still fit. “Is that an order?”
    Because she didn’t know if that was the kind of game she wanted to play with him or not. If he truly thought it a game…maybe. But if he was serious, she’d forget her promise and run like hell. She wasn’t changing herself again for any man. Not even him.
    “Do you want it to be?”
    She sharpened her voice to prove she could. “No.”
    “Then I beg most humbly that you torment me with something white and don’t tell me what you’re wearing underneath. Make me work for that knowledge.”
    Another wave of heat washed over her. Yeah, she could do that. “What is it with you and white?”
    “White is virginal innocence, which brings out all my wickedness and debauchery. To a man like me, it’s like waving the white flag of surrender. I see you pure and innocent in white and I can think of nothing else but all the ways I might be able to get that pretty white a bit dirty.”
    Oh. Her face felt like she’d fallen into a campfire. She leaned against a formal column of the front porch, trying to calm her breathing. She wasn’t some fluff-brained twit of a virgin ready to blush and swoon at the slightest thought of sex, but somehow, he had that effect on her. If she was white, he was sinful black.
    “You’re blushing. And that drives me wild, too.”

    He didn’t sound wild at all, but rather terribly calm, promising hours of sensual torment.
    Her voice was throaty, but at least she found it. “I don’t have a white dress, and I don’t do shopping.” Not even for you.
    “Wear whatever you’ve got, darlin’. I’ll still want to debauch you.”
    “Nobody says debauch anymore.” A startled curse from the painter sent Rae hurrying back around the house. “I’ve got to go. Something’s up.”
    She hung up and found Joe swiping fresh emerald green paint off his face and hands.
    “What happened?”
    “I was going to paint a few test colors for you and Miss Belle to look at and the can just blew up in my face.”
    “Well, you look good in green.” Laughter wiped some of the sheepish anger off the man’s face. She couldn’t afford to lose him—he was one of the best housepainters she’d ever met. Most people would argue anybody could paint a house, but she begged to differ. What Joe did was art, plain and simple. Plus, he knew the right historic colors to use.
    “I guess the house just doesn’t like green.” Joe said, shaking his head. “Look at the wall.
    Not a drop. In fifteen years I’ve never had a can blow up like that on me. It should have sprayed everywhere.”
    Hair prickled at the base of her neck, a hint of chill creeping down her spine. Something odd was definitely going on in this house. What’d she expect when Miss Belle supposedly talked to her dead husband enough to make that ridiculous bet? “What other colors do you