“However I see fit? You sure about that?”
Her face flushed, the blush spreading all the way down to her toes. Her private parts were probably blushing. What did the devious sheriff have in mind? Nothing good, she was sure, but it was too late to back out now.
“Ahhhh….yes. I am a woman of my word. However you see fit,” she choked out.
“All right.” His smile turned sensual and his eyes had a gleam to them that worried her. “The punishment will take place tonight, after work.”
Did this count as a date? Her mind flashed back to what Marigold had said about punishment and seduction…and how there was a fine line between the two of them.
Damn it! She hated it when Marigold was right.
She spent the rest of the day at the office, filing and answering phones, and trying to ignore the feeling of Portia’s angry glare burning holes in the back of her head. At least Jax just ignored her, while Lola came and sat on her desk and peppered her with questions about New York City.
That evening, Loch dropped her off at the boarding house so he could go home and change.
Ginger was just in time to help Marigold pick out an outfit for her date with Henry. Marigold deliberately chose jeans and a tank top, to let Henry know she didn’t think the date was any big deal.
Ginger looked her over and shook her head, frowning. “I hate to tell you this, but you look sexy as hell in that outfit, and Loch also told me that Henry really likes a girl in jeans. What he doesn’t like is frou-frou city girls.”
“Really?” Marigold stared down at her outfit in dismay. She quickly ripped her clothes off and threw on a low cut, clingy red dress that molded to her slim figure. She climbed into a pair of high heels and put on some sparkly lip gloss, and topped off the look with big gold hoop earrings.
“Ha! That’ll repel him!” she said triumphantly, watching from the window as his car pulled up out front.
Ginger walked downstairs with Marigold. “By the way, I made all that up about the jeans,” she told Marigold as Marigold stepped out on to the front porch. “And you look hot in that dress. Ay, caramba! Oops, he’s already getting out of his car, you don’t have time to change.”
“What?” Marigold’s eyes went wide with shock. “You conniving bitch!”
“You’ve known me for 8 years, and you’re just now figuring that out? Heh heh.” Ginger cackled an evil laugh and ran back inside the boarding house, leaving Marigold alone as Henry walked up the flagstone path to the porch.
A rustling in the hallway behind her made her start, and she turned.
Winifred was standing there, looking perturbed. As usual, she had her hair pinned up in the pencil-bun. “I was wondering…” she said, wringing her slim hands. “That new person employed by Miss Imogen to assist her with the daily tasks at this domicile…”
“The hot handyman? What about him?”
“Are you aware of whether he has any, er, involvement or marital commitment with a member of the opposite sex? Or the same sex?” At Ginger’s startled look, she blushed and muttered “I’m asking for purely academic reasons.”
“I don’t know. You should ask him. But try to say it in normal-speak, or he won’t understand you. Just say, by the way, do you have a girlfriend? And if he says no, ask him if he’d like to buy you a drink at the Hoot Owl.”
“Really?” Winifred’s eyes widened at the thought.
“Absolutely. It’s the 21st century. Sisters are doing it for themselves.” As Winifred opened her mouth to demand an explanation, she held up her hand. “That’s an expression! It means, it’s okay for a girl to ask a guy to ask her out on a date.”
“Interesting. Very interesting.”
“Hold on.” Ginger reached out and grabbed the pencils out of Winifred’s hair bun, and handed the pencils to her as her golden locks tumbled down over her shoulders.
“Never do the pencil thing again,” Ginger told her. “Especially when you’re talking to the handyman.” She reached out and unbuttoned the top four buttons of Winifred’s oxford shirt. “Okay, now you’re good.”
Winifred nodded, stuffing the pencils into her shirt pocket. “Thank you. This has been a most illuminating conversation.” She wandered back into the house with a thoughtful look on her face.
Loch pulled up a few minutes later, sexy as sin in jeans and a white t-shirt. Ginger still wore her floral pink skirt and scoop neck shirt.
“Should I have changed?” she asked nervously, as they drove.
“You look beautiful.”
Her heart leapt in her throat. Her palms were damp with sweat and she struggled to control her breathing. Right now she was both terrified and fascinated by the sheriff, and so turned on that she wanted to tear her clothes off and crawl on top of him.
Down, girl, she told herself.