Free A Grand Seduction by Lisa Logan

those? Big as life and crisp as a new thousand dollar bill.”
    “ They’re amazing. My father just got one for the media room.”
    “ Well, make no mistake, I’ve got my sights set. There will be a fifty-two incher in this house before the end of the year.”
    “ Men and their measurements.”
    The comment teased out of her mouth before she could stop it, and her eyes widened a bit at her own trashiness. Next thing she knew, she’d be wrapping a live boa around her naked flesh and slithering around on his desk.
    He stared for half a heartbeat, then laughed. “Yeah, well, we like toys.”
    Do the hair toss thing , she heard Dominique’s voice echo in her mind. Ridelle flipped her hair back, feeling her face creep toward a flush of pink a shade darker than her dress. “Now that I can relate to.”
    The tone left little doubt what kind of toys she meant. Their eyes met, and her heart pounded a warning when the contact lasted a bit too long. She broke contact first, fighting the sick ache in her stomach. “Thanks for the info on your guests. I’d better get back to the scene of the crime and start beating eggs.”
    His glance at her breasts was done with practiced reserve, but Ridelle caught the quick side trip. “No problem. Thank you for all your help.”
    For a final clincher, she added, “Can I get you anything before your guests arrive?” If he asked for his slippers and pipe, however, she was so out of there.
    Instead, a grateful gaze ping-ponged between pained and surprised, and words took a moment to form. She stared at him quizzically at knowing she’d truly caught him off guard. His genuine look of shocked gratitude elicited a single and disturbing flicker of sympathy. “Why, yes,” he managed. “I’d love a Tom Collins, actually. If it’s no trouble. Know how to make one?”
    “ Regular squirt of lemon, or double?”
    “ Regular is fine. Thank you.”
    The smile was again genuine, and Ridelle went on her way. The super-glued smile vanished as soon as she was out the door.
    “ If it’s no trouble”? Surely this polite man was not the open sore who used an ugly mouth to beat on Fran? Would he be so polite to her when his lecherous behavior came to light? Would he said, “Gee Fran, can I bend your best friend over my desk? That is, if it’s no trouble?”
    As her steps echoed back toward the kitchen, she snarled her lip. As hard as she knew it would be to drum up the willpower to seduce a vengeful sot, it dawned on her that it might prove harder still if that sot turned the tables and tried to act like an actual human being.
    The kitchen was at Defcon two by the time Ridelle returned. Fran was attempting to use a chef’s knife while Twyla bent over a cabinet, rooting through pots and pans with a clatter. She came up with a set of stainless steel nesting bowls and spotted Ridelle. “So, what was the great word?”
    “ Quiche is fine.” She was aware of both women watching her as she strolled over to where several sacks of ingredients now sat in indefinable arrangements on the island counter. Yet another grape met its end between her lips.
    Fran pretended to be busy chopping what turned out to be the useless, hairy root of a shallot as Twyla pressed on. “And?”
    Ridelle ceased chewing. “And, uh, thanks for thinking of it?”
    Twyla pulled the largest bowl from the stack and set the rest on the counter behind her. “You know what I mean.” Her voice dropped. “How’d it go?”
    The girl shrugged, throwing a guilty glance at Fran. The redhead’s gaze dropped away and she snatched up another shallot. “It wasn’t like I threw myself across his desk.” Not quite. “I just asked him about the quiche and he talked about wanting a big screen TV. Oh, and he wants a Tom Collins.”
    Fran snorted. “Figures he’d treat my friends like slaves, too. Sorry, Ridelle.”
    “ Actually, the offer was mine.” The woman’s so-now-you-know-my-pain smile faded. “Which bar should I use?”
    The