Free As Bad As Can Be by Kristin Hardy Page A

outfits. Lingerie designers understood that the female body was a hundred times more alluring with a few scraps covering it, begging to be pulled off. Something about the tiniest bit of coverage made a man immensely aware of the warm skin beneath.
    â€œShay. Can you come here a minute?” Mallory’svoice called him softly from the dressing room. He stepped over to the door cautiously. “Can you please get this for me in the next smaller size? It’s on the rack by the cash register.” She opened it just a crack and slid the lace bodysuit out. He caught a glimpse of her in a firecracker-red bra and underwear and nothing else.
    And all the blood in his body went south.
    He concentrated, running through inventory of the beer at O’Connor’s, counting the number of weeks until the Christmas season started, thinking about the World Series, thinking about anything other than how she’d looked. When he was sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself, he went out of the little alcove and into the store. The confusion of lace and straps and silk only kept his mind running in the same circle, like a hamster on a wheel: the way she’d looked, sexy, reckless and sinful.
    He found the suit she wanted and brought it back to the dressing area, pleased that his system was calm. He knocked on the door. Mallory opened it and pulled him inside before he registered what she was doing.
    â€œWhat the hell—” he began, but she put her fingers on his lips.
    â€œShh, they’re coming. You don’t want them to know you’re in here, do you?” She pressed him down on a bench in the corner.
    Indeed, he could hear the salesclerk approaching with her other customers, unlocking the changing rooms to let them in. That was the last thing he needed, to be found in the dressing room with Mallory.
    The clerk knocked on Mallory’s door. “Everything all right in there? You need anything?”
    â€œI’m just fine, thanks,” Mallory called, piling herhair up on top of her head with her hands. She wore a transparent black babydoll over a bra and panties, the filmy material floating over the sleek curves of her waist. Shay’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.
    â€œWhat the hell are you playing at?” he growled.
    Mallory gave him a smoldering stare full of promise. “I have a few more things to try on,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s more interesting to have company.”
    â€œI don’t want to see you try things on.”
    â€œOh, don’t you?” She sank down on his lap, straddling him. “I thought you seemed pretty interested the other night. Just because we’re working together doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.” She nuzzled his ear and his hands came up around her waist of their own volition.
    He forced himself to drop them, forced himself to ignore the husky throb of her soft voice. “Your brother is my friend and I am not going to do this.” Oh, but he wanted to. God help him, he thought as he felt her lips nibble on his jaw, he wanted to.
    The noises of the women in the dressing rooms next door came through the walls faintly. Each room was isolated entirely from the next, the walls decorated with gleaming light fixtures and creamy striped wallpaper, and topped with ornate crown moldings. He looked across the tiny room and saw Mallory reflected in the mirror on the back of the door, sleek and curvy and enticing.
    â€œRelax, Shay,” she whispered. “What, you think no one’s ever done this before? I’m sure people have had sex in these dressing rooms far more often than you’d think.” She nipped at his lips, sending littleshocks through his system. “And I certainly think they’ve done this.” And then her mouth was on his.
    He tried, oh he tried not to dive into the kiss. There were people nearby, he needed to keep his wits about him. But the silky