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Sunday, after all. Since it was normally a day of rest, Mrs. Reginald Little the Third should at least be preparing to cut down other women at tea while not actually looking as though she was doing the cutting, not bothering her only daughter.
    Her mother gave a long, drawn-out sigh. Seriously, the woman had that down to an art form.
    “You’re expected at brunch this morning. Richard will be there, and you can apologize. Hopefully, he will be gracious enough to take you back. I’ve worked all I can at this point to make up for your failures. Don’t disappoint me by being yourself.”
    Shea ran a hand through her hair, the pang at her mother’s familiar words like a sharp lance across her chest
    “I can’t go today, Mother.” Or any day. “I have plans.” Her plans with Shep weren’t until later in the day, but her mother didn’t need to know that.
    “Plans? You?” Her mother laughed, and Shea winced. “Honey, you don’t need to lie to me. I know you have no plans. Who would want to be with you? Now get dressed and wear something I’ve picked out for you. It won’t do you any good to look like a whore in front of Richard. Look demure but make sure your breasts are high. He likes breasts. Once he gets a good look at what you have—which isn’t that much, honestly—you can use those whore wiles of yours to get him to put that ring on your finger.”
    There wasn’t enough freaking coffee in the world to deal with this.
    Seriously?
    She had to be both a whore and demure to keep a man she didn’t want?
    Jesus, did her mother even listen to herself?
    “On that note, Mother, I’m hanging up now.”
    “Don’t you be an ungrateful brat. I’ve done everything for you, and this is how you repay me? I will see you at brunch, or there will be hell to pay.”
    Shea hung up as her mother continued her tirade—something she wouldn’t have done even two days ago.
    It seemed laughing at night on the street with a man who held her close had helped her more than she thought. Just the idea of having a plan for that night—even if it was her job to make the plan more concrete—was worth any amount of yelling her mother would do later.
    Although she would have liked to sleep in, she couldn’t now. Not with the oily feeling sweeping over her at that early morning phone call.
    She’d just have to get up and begin her day.
    Shea showered, ate breakfast, and then planned their date for that night at the Preservation Hall. When Shep told her where they were going, she’d blinked. It wasn’t a real date-like place, but he wanted to take her anyway. He said they’d do dinner and…other things afterward.
    She blushed when she thought about what those other things could be.
    Shea might not be the whore her mother thought she was, but she was ready to see what happened with Shep. She couldn’t help herself.
    By the time late afternoon rolled around, she was dressed and ready to go. Shep would be there any minute to pick her up. Unlike the previous night when they’d arrived separately, she was fine with him knowing where she lived. Considering he’d dropped her off at her doorstep the night before, it was a little late to be worried about that.
    Also, unlike the previous night, she wasn’t dressed like an assistant or someone going to a high-end cocktail party.
    Nope.
    She’d had to search in the back of her closet for her outfit and luckily had enough on her “never-going-to-happen” rack, that she could be comfortable. She wore skinny jeans, a cute blouse, and those black fuck-me pumps she’d told Shep about.
    She usually wore those with a dress, but she wanted to be a little daring today.
    Hopefully he’d like it.
    Damn it! She had to stop doubting herself. It had taken only one phone call from her overbearing shrew of a mother for her to revert back to the adolescent she’d been.
    She was not that person anymore.
    She just had to remember that.
    A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts, and her