Into the Fire - Leslie Kelly [45]
"I suppose not," she admitted.
"I'm glad you did. I think I see things more clearly now."
Though she raised a questioning brow, he didn't elaborate.
"Tell you what," he said. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to go take a shower, okay?"
Still confused by the feelings she'd finally begun to acknowledge, Lacey nodded. After he left, she took her water glass, went into the living area of the apartment and sat on the cream-colored leather sofa. She leaned back in the seat but quickly leaped up, a screech on her lips, when she felt something poke her in the small of her back. Reaching behind the cushion, she felt the cool, smooth, tube-shaped object that had poked her. Pulling it free, she saw it was a curling iron, similar to the one in her bathroom.
Lacey frowned. Nate's hair was short. And he sure didn't seem the type of man to worry about the perfect do.
Brushing aside her idle curiosity, Lacey placed the appliance on the coffee table, next to a carton filled with magazines. When she looked closer she realized they were all women's magazines. Cosmo, Elle, Marie-Claire—current issues of at least half a dozen ladies' monthlies. "He's a journalist. He's just checking out the competition," Lacey muttered, trying to convince herself.
The makeup was harder to understand. Beneath a table near the front door stood a packing carton. Even from here she could see the tubes and vials filling it to the brim. She recognized the Cover Girl packaging and other brands as well. Lipsticks, nail polish, powders and eye-shadows. "Why on earth is he ordering makeup?" Figuring maybe he'd taken a shipment for his sister or something, Lacey shrugged, stood up and walked around.
Within a few minutes, she realized she hadn't asked Nate if he had a powder room—and she needed one. Spotting a couple of closed doors near an arched hallway, she crossed her fingers and pulled one open. Instead of a bathroom, she found a coat closet … without a single coat insight.
"Lingerie?" The closet was crowded with padded hangers bearing absolutely delicious lingerie. She couldn't help touching it. She reached out and fingered the fine fabric of a lovely plum-colored teddy with matching short robe. All lace and silk, it slid across her fingers like liquid. On the next two hangers, a white cotton nightdress looked like cool comfort, and a black lacy bustier and garter belt screamed Frederick 's of Hollywood .
Lacey's secret addiction to sexy underclothes left her mouth watering as she examined each and every item. Robes, peignoirs, teddies in several shades—the closet was a veritable feast of lacy, frilly, fantasy lingerie. All new, tagged, fresh and unworn.
"He's either a crossdresser or a complete reprobate," she muttered out loud.
She didn't notice Nate walking up the hallway until his hand covered hers on the door of the closet. Startled, she jumped and turned to find him chuckling.
"Or," he said softly, "just a man with very good taste."
* * *
Chapter 7
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L acey felt a flush stain her cheeks as she realized Nate had caught her being nosy. "I'm sorry. I was checking to see if this was the bathroom."
"Second door on the left," Nate said as he tilted his head, gesturing toward the short hallway leading to the back of the apartment He waited, not making any effort to explain the contents of his closet. Considering she'd been the one caught snooping, Lacey didn't necessarily blame him.
Her intense curiosity warred with her embarrassment as he stood there, watching her shift from foot to foot and curl her fingers together nervously. She saw laughter in his eyes, and a seductive smile tugged at his lips. Don't ask! Don't ask!
To escape his amused eyes, Lacey tried to walk past him. He blocked most of the entrance into the hall, and she paused, waiting for