Michele Dunaway - Unwrapping Mr. Wright

“Well, luckily for you, this Dynamics crisis might just be perfect timing. You can stay at my place. I’ll leave a spare key underneath my welcome mat.” Jeff strode to the door. He grinned as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Just be sure you feed my cat.”

Pretty woman. The words from the Roy Orbison song resonated in Lauren’s head long after the tune had faded from St. Louis’s classic-oldies radio station. But the words fit. The woman reflected back at her in the rearview mirror was pretty. The spa had been worth every penny.

Lauren grinned as she pulled up to an intersection and the guy in the car to her right gave her a second, then a third look. For once Lauren knew it wasn’t because she’d had food on her face or something embarrassing like that. For once it was because she really did look good.

She’d entrusted her body to the care of Meredith and Jacques, and neither of the spa professionals had let her leave disappointed. She’d been made over from head right down to her now bright red toenails.

When they’d finally spun her around after the finishing touches, at first Lauren hadn’t believed that she really was the person in the mirror. Jacques had lightened her dark brown hair to a honey hue. He hadn’t made her medium blond—he said that would wash her out too much and make her appear trite—but he had lightened every strand and used foils to weave subtle golden strands throughout.

Her eyebrows had been tweezed and shaped, and after applying a natural foundation, Meredith had applied soft blush makeup to Lauren’s cheekbones and subtle color to her eyelids. The result? The man in a pickup truck to her left said it best when he gave her a large grin and a thumbs-up before he pulled away.

Lauren smiled and avoided drumming her newly manicured fingernails on the steering wheel, as was her habit. She pulled into Chesterfield Mall and found a spot near an entrance. One stop left to go before her plan was complete. All she needed now was lingerie. The basic cotton underwear she usually wore was not acceptable for tonight’s seduction. She wanted lace, the silkier and skimpier the better.

She parked the car, entered the mall and strode into the shop with complete confidence. She knew her body was ready for it—she’d been waxed, buffed and moisturized until every part of her five-foot-six-inch figure glowed. She’d never been fat, and now viewing in the three-way mirror the black lace ensemble she’d found, she felt like one of those credit-card commercials. No matter the cost—the result was worth it. Lauren picked up a pair of thigh-high seamed hose, paid for her purchases and carried the pink-and-white bag with pride.

The December night was brisk, but Lauren didn’t feel the cold as she unlocked her Toyota Celica and tossed the bag onto the back seat. Darkness had long ago descended, and Lauren’s headlights cut a swath through the starry night as she drove home to her condo. She’d eat a little something just to make sure her stomach didn’t growl foolishly, drink a little wine to give her some liquid courage, then she’d dress and walk the twelve feet to Jeff’s condo. Monday Night Football started at eight. And as much as she loved football, too, tonight was about seduction. Jeff would only get to see about five minutes of the game before her arrival.

Lauren turned up the volume on the radio as a Macy Gray song came on. Singing along, Lauren belted out the words. Even the song was a sign. Today she’d had one good omen after another. Jeff Wright, here I come. You aren’t going to know what hit you. Every light magically seemed to be green and Lauren grinned. For once, finally, everything was going to be perfect.

Justin wasn’t a cat person, but that didn’t stop Jeff’s indoor, with an alley-cat personality, feline from taking permanent residence right on top of Justin’s chest.

The monster even purred so loud that Justin couldn’t hear the television. If he turned his head to the right he could see the flat screen, though, and thus at least tell what was going on. Reaching for the remote control, a few inches beyond his grasp on the coffee table, meant risking upending the cat with the killer claws. Justin decided that hearing the game, which started in about fifteen minutes, didn’t matter.

Like most Saint Louisans he loved the Saint Louis Rams, but tonight he wasn’t interested in watching them play the New Orleans Saints. Suddenly extremely exhausted, all Justin wanted right now was sleep.

He’d left the office only about a half hour ago. Jeff had arrived safely in Buffalo and he and Cecil had started pulling the all-nighter required to rebuild Dynamics’s systems. Clint had returned from Springfield, soothed the other client’s fears, and at last, after sending about a dozen e-mails and signing a dozen letters, Justin had been free to go home. Dinner had been a drive-through-restaurant chicken sandwich that hadn’t tasted all that great.

He’d hoped to pick up some essentials at home before going to Jeff’s, but upon arriving at his Chesterfield ranch, he’d learned from the note on his front door that he couldn’t even enter the house until ten the next morning. He’d said a few words his mother would scold him for before he’d headed to Jeff’s.

Thank goodness he and his brother were twins. He’d at least be able to borrow something clean to wear to the office tomorrow. Tonight, though, he wanted to be really comfortable. So, with no change of clothes, Justin had cranked up the heat, stripped to his boxers, grabbed a beer and now found himself used as a cat pillow.

He glanced at the VCR clock. His mother had always said that her twins were opposites, which in many ways they were. Jeff, the computer god and techno wizard, always had his VCR programmed to the proper time, for example. Justin’s VCR usually just blinked 12:00 because he was too lazy to set it and he hadn’t seen the need to replace the aged unit with one that automatically set the time itself. Now Jeff’s VCR said 7:50. Justin had ten minutes before football. Enough for a power nap. After all, his eyelids did feel so heavy. He let his lashes drift down, and soon man and beast fell into easy slumber.

Lauren lowered her wineglass and looked at the clock on her microwave for the hundredth time. If a watched pot never boiled, then a watched microwave clock never changed. Lauren held her breath as the display finally flickered from 7:59 and became 8:00.

It was finally time.

She took one last reassuring sip of wine. However, the room-temperature Merlot did little to calm her racing heart. She glanced at the bottle. She’d only had two glasses, enough to make her feel warm, fuzzy, brave and wanton. She smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in her hose. Her outfit was perfect: a merry widow covered by a sheer black robe. Underneath, lacy black garter straps held up the seamed black thigh-highs. Slinky black heels that she’d worn only once graced her feet, her red toenail polish playing peekaboo beneath the sheer hose.

She’d gotten her portable CD player ready. While Jeff had a fantastic stereo complete with surround sound, it would be quicker and easier for her to just use her battery-operated unit and have it on as she entered his condo.

Butterflies flitted in her stomach. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was. She’d had relationships before—even lived with a man for three months before he’d cheated on her. But this time was different. This was Jeff, her best friend. Tonight would forever change their relationship. They would go from friends to lovers. He’d realize the pal could also be the girlfriend. They would have it all. She knew he adored her; but still, taking the next step was always risky. She had nothing to fear. Right? She was now a knockout.

The clock finally flickered to 8:05 and Lauren grabbed the CD player. Her ankles wobbled for a brief moment as she rose to her feet.