Read Under the Covers for Free Online
Authors: Rita Herron
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Chapter 3
The Lusty Look
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this makeover." Abby stepped into the fitting room of the exclusive dress boutique Egor's where Chelsea insisted they shop, and grimaced. The Paris designs were expensive and the staff wanted to dress her with their own hands. She was thankful it was one of Chelsea's more upscale choices, not the outlandish favorite where Chelsea, a real bellwether, purchased her lime heels and leopard-skin pants.
"Look, Abby," Chelsea said, "you have to do the book signing, so you might as well look good."
"I only agreed to the book signing because Rainey refused to take no for an answer. I still think it's a bad idea."
"You told her about Lenny?"
Abby winced miserably. "Yes. She almost went into heart failure when I suggested admitting the truth and forgetting the interviews."
"So do the interviews and enjoy your fame. You'll be so fabulous no one will care whether or not you have an albatross of a man around your neck when they do find out about loser Lenny."
Like that would really happen.
Chelsea wrapped a gold chain belt around Abby's hips and adjusted it. "There."
Abby gestured toward the revealing neckline of the shell. "This outfit is just not me...."
"I know. Don't be such a prude." Chelsea laughed, hot pink lips pursed. "It's perfect. That neckline accentuates your cleavage."
"I'm not a prude; I'm modest." Abby pivoted in the mirror to study the back of the short blue skirt. She really had to lay off the Reese's cups. "Don't you think it's a little tight in the butt?"
"Honestly. God gave you assets, so use them." Chelsea shook her head, crystal earrings dangling. "If I left you on your own, you'd show up in a feed sack."
"I would not." Abby glanced at the flowing dress she'd chosen earlier. So it didn't hug her figure or show the lines of her body. That was what she intended. She'd always favored a more traditional style, especially in her clothing. It matched her conservative approach to life.
Marrying Lenny had been her one impulsive decision.
And the biggest mistake of her life.
She unzipped the skirt and dropped it to the floor. If she wore a feed sack, at least she wouldn't have to worry about her hips being too big. She could eat all the Reese's cups she wanted. "This is too short. I'm wearing the calf-length dress."
"That one with the high collar? Good grief, Abby, you'll look like a nun!"
"I will not; it's perfect, classy. If I wear that short one, every man around will be ogling my legs. Giving me that lusty look—"
"That's exactly the point."
"Well, I don't want to be ogled."
"You're hopeless." Chelsea jerked the long black dress out of reach. "This is hideous. Now try on that red silk suit with the camisole. It'll look sexy."
Abby dragged it on under duress. "My butt's too big, my ankles are too thick, and my boobs are too small to look sexy."
Abby's cell phone trilled from her purse, and she clicked it on while Chelsea stacked up her clothing finds. "Hello."
"Hi, Dr. Jensen, this is Hunter Stone from the AJC again. I realize you were busy yesterday—"
"I'm busy again today, too. How did you get my cell phone number?"
"Your publicist, Rainey Jackson."
"Rainey gave you my number?"
"Yes, she faxed me a bio and some photos, too."
Good grief, he sounded so pleased with himself. Rainey obviously didn't share Abby's distrust of reporters. "Mr. Stone, I have no interest in talking to journalists. Why, one article I read implied that I acted out my exercises with my patients."
"Maybe if you meet me, I can get the details right this time," Stone said.
Oh, wouldn't he love that? But she didn't intend to be tricked into anything. "I told you no, and I meant it."
"Listen, Dr. Jensen, the press is going to write about you, so it would be easier if you cooperated. Give me an exclusive, and I'll print the truth. I swear."
His voice sounded strong. Sincere. But Abby didn't trust him for a minute.
"We can talk about your
Chapter 3
The Lusty Look
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this makeover." Abby stepped into the fitting room of the exclusive dress boutique Egor's where Chelsea insisted they shop, and grimaced. The Paris designs were expensive and the staff wanted to dress her with their own hands. She was thankful it was one of Chelsea's more upscale choices, not the outlandish favorite where Chelsea, a real bellwether, purchased her lime heels and leopard-skin pants.
"Look, Abby," Chelsea said, "you have to do the book signing, so you might as well look good."
"I only agreed to the book signing because Rainey refused to take no for an answer. I still think it's a bad idea."
"You told her about Lenny?"
Abby winced miserably. "Yes. She almost went into heart failure when I suggested admitting the truth and forgetting the interviews."
"So do the interviews and enjoy your fame. You'll be so fabulous no one will care whether or not you have an albatross of a man around your neck when they do find out about loser Lenny."
Like that would really happen.
Chelsea wrapped a gold chain belt around Abby's hips and adjusted it. "There."
Abby gestured toward the revealing neckline of the shell. "This outfit is just not me...."
"I know. Don't be such a prude." Chelsea laughed, hot pink lips pursed. "It's perfect. That neckline accentuates your cleavage."
"I'm not a prude; I'm modest." Abby pivoted in the mirror to study the back of the short blue skirt. She really had to lay off the Reese's cups. "Don't you think it's a little tight in the butt?"
"Honestly. God gave you assets, so use them." Chelsea shook her head, crystal earrings dangling. "If I left you on your own, you'd show up in a feed sack."
"I would not." Abby glanced at the flowing dress she'd chosen earlier. So it didn't hug her figure or show the lines of her body. That was what she intended. She'd always favored a more traditional style, especially in her clothing. It matched her conservative approach to life.
Marrying Lenny had been her one impulsive decision.
And the biggest mistake of her life.
She unzipped the skirt and dropped it to the floor. If she wore a feed sack, at least she wouldn't have to worry about her hips being too big. She could eat all the Reese's cups she wanted. "This is too short. I'm wearing the calf-length dress."
"That one with the high collar? Good grief, Abby, you'll look like a nun!"
"I will not; it's perfect, classy. If I wear that short one, every man around will be ogling my legs. Giving me that lusty look—"
"That's exactly the point."
"Well, I don't want to be ogled."
"You're hopeless." Chelsea jerked the long black dress out of reach. "This is hideous. Now try on that red silk suit with the camisole. It'll look sexy."
Abby dragged it on under duress. "My butt's too big, my ankles are too thick, and my boobs are too small to look sexy."
Abby's cell phone trilled from her purse, and she clicked it on while Chelsea stacked up her clothing finds. "Hello."
"Hi, Dr. Jensen, this is Hunter Stone from the AJC again. I realize you were busy yesterday—"
"I'm busy again today, too. How did you get my cell phone number?"
"Your publicist, Rainey Jackson."
"Rainey gave you my number?"
"Yes, she faxed me a bio and some photos, too."
Good grief, he sounded so pleased with himself. Rainey obviously didn't share Abby's distrust of reporters. "Mr. Stone, I have no interest in talking to journalists. Why, one article I read implied that I acted out my exercises with my patients."
"Maybe if you meet me, I can get the details right this time," Stone said.
Oh, wouldn't he love that? But she didn't intend to be tricked into anything. "I told you no, and I meant it."
"Listen, Dr. Jensen, the press is going to write about you, so it would be easier if you cooperated. Give me an exclusive, and I'll print the truth. I swear."
His voice sounded strong. Sincere. But Abby didn't trust him for a minute.
"We can talk about your
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