“I should be back about five,” she
said, stopping in front of the couch, which seemed to have become Mik’s office.
Sigrid struck a pose with her hand on her hip.
Let him see what she’d made of herself—she looked damned good and she
knew it. The dark wool Michael Kors mini-skirt set off the simple white silk
shirt perfectly, and the short, fitted, rust-colored suede jacket from Peter
Jensen provided just the right finishing touch.
Rechecking
one of her gold coin earrings to be sure it was secure, she allowed a slight,
sneering smile to cross her face. “Have
fun in Elk River.”
Mik’s eyebrows went up as he checked
her out, which should have reassured her, but actually made her a little
nervous. He rubbed his chin for a second, then stood up.
She tensed as he walked around her
like Tim Gunn critiquing a fashion design, but she refused to give ground.
That damn eyebrow of his went up. “Hmmm. Let’s see—the cleavage would give a saint wet
dreams, and those suede boots are an open invitation to kinky sex. Are you—uh--meeting someone special
for lunch?”
Sigrid felt her jaw tighten as she strove
for self-control. It was a wonder she
hadn’t ground her teeth down to nubbins of their former selves since she’d
brought Mik home.
“Don’t start anything, Mik. We’re not married anymore. I have a right to have male friends, and this
one happens to be an assistant district attorney.”
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