Free Danny by Margo Anne Rhea Page B

was off to a great start. Of course he
cared about Stacey; we both cared about her. That was how we’d
ended up in this situation, but it still hurt to hear him say the
words. I feigned an intense interest in the yoke remnants on my
plate, drawing little designs with my fork.
    “But I still care about you, too, Paige.”
    My heart constricted. Dammit. Why now? “You’re about
six months too late.” My chair scraped the floor as I stood,
leaving my dishes on the table, and made for the bedroom. I threw
on one of Stacey’s sundresses and a clean pair of panties, praying
the whole time that Danny hadn’t followed me.
    As I turned to leave the room, he stood filling the
doorway, arms crossed over his chest. I could tell by the erection
tenting his pants he’d watched me dress. Awesome.
    I shoved past him, practically running to the front
door of the condo. Thank God I’d kicked off my sandals and dropped
my purse by the door yesterday. It made my escape much easier.
     
    ****
     
    After three days of avoiding Danny--which meant
avoiding Stacey, too--I had convinced myself I’d read too much into
the situation. He wasn’t trying to get in my pants, wasn’t trying
to cheat on Stacey. Wasn’t trying to get me to cheat on her. I must
have misheard him when he copped to fantasizing about me. He
probably wasn’t even jacking himself off under that sheet--maybe
his upper thigh itched.
    So, when Stacey called me at work that afternoon,
demanding in her oh-so-adorable way that I get my butt to her place
the minute I got off work, I gave in without argument. She must
suspect I was staying away on purpose. If I didn’t go, she would
know for sure. There was no way in hell I would put myself in a
position to have to tell her Danny was the reason.
    At exactly 5:02 p.m., I shut my computer down,
grabbed my purse, and made for the elevator. The ten-minute drive
through rush hour traffic felt like it took an hour. But for all my
impatience, when I finally parked just steps from Stacey’s front
door, it took me several minutes to propel myself from my SUV and
into the condo.
    They were both waiting by the fire in the living
room when I got there. Stacey, in a tantalizing black negligee that
showed everything except what her matching thong covered, looked
like pure lust. She had her auburn hair pulled up in a bun, flyaway
strands framing her baby-doll face. Big baby blues peered up at me,
perfecting the look of innocence.
    Danny, on the other hand, seemed more than
uncomfortable in nothing but a pair of red boxer-briefs that molded
to his body. I couldn’t blame him. We’d certainly seen each other
in less clothing than that, but even I felt exposed in jeans and a
sweater right then.
    “Good, you’re finally here.” Stacey purred the words
and patted the space next to her on the down comforter they’d
placed in front of the fireplace. I pulled my boots and socks off
and joined them on the blanket. Danny had a glass of wine waiting
for me and pressed it into my hands as soon as I was settled.
    Stacey’s hand slipped under the hem of my sweater to
fiddle with the button of my slacks. I knew what was going to
happen next. We’d done this so many times, I could have done it in
my sleep. And almost did the other morning, I reminded myself. I
avoided looking at Danny.
    Stacey’s fingernails grazed my thighs as she tugged
my pants down and off my legs. My sweater was the next to go. She
threw that behind her. I watched as it landed unceremoniously on
the floor, a puddle of black mohair.
    If I’d felt exposed before, now I felt downright
naked in my lavender bra and matching bikini panties. Maybe naked
was good, I realized as Stacey pushed my bra aside and swept her
tongue over my nipple. Before I even registered the movement, she’d
unhooked it and pulled the straps down my arms.
    Danny removed the glass of wine I’d all but
forgotten about from my hand, and I heard the clink of him setting
it on the coffee table. Taking