With my brother out of the way, I head into the dressing room and grab the nearest bra to examine it. God, these things are flimsy. There's absolutely no support. If I wore this under a T-shirt, my boobs would jiggle like water balloons.
Working methodically, I divide everything into categories. Not that it helps me make a decision. Even though each garment is undeniably beautiful, I have no idea what will turn Liam on. Should I follow Ethan's lead and do the garter belt thing? Or would Liam prefer the leather-look bustier and matching thong?
Ugh, this is impossible.
I quickly strip off my clothes and pull on a delicate blood-red slip that's completely translucent apart from some strategically placed lace flowers over my nipples.
Is this really what men want? It's totally impractical.
There are also three slip dresses of varying lengths and transparencies. Which one do I buy?
As if my thoughts have magically travelled to Mongolia, my phone lights up with Liam's number.
I answer and feel my stress melt away as soon as he appears on the screen.
"Hey, handsome."
He gives me a tired smile. "Hi, beautiful." His face is covered in dirt, and he has his hair and extensions pulled up into a messy bun. On the whole, I disapprove of the whole man-bun movement. For me, it's up there with male jeggings and dress shoes without socks. But on Liam, I can't deny the bun looks hot as hell.
"How's filming going?" I ask.
He wipes a hand across his face and sighs. "Slowly. We only have a few scenes left in the final battle, but the weather has been screwing us. That's one of the downsides of filming in frozen tundra. We're at the mercy of random blizzards."
"See? This is what happens on a James Cameron movie. You could have shot in a nice warm sound stage in Canada and added CG snow. But noooo. It had to be authentically Mongolian, even if the guy playing the baddest middle-eastern bastard in history is an Irish kid from Hoboken."
He chuckles. "Yeah, well, apart from the weather, it's been an amazing experience, even if it has kept me away from you. So, what are you doing? Are you at your parent's place?"
"No. I ducked out to run an errand before dinner."
"Oh? So where are you?"
"Well, I'm trying to do what you asked, but it's turning out to be more difficult than I thought." I prop up the phone on the plush chair in the dressing room so he can see what I'm wearing.
"I need your help. Do you like this one? Or ..." I grab the other two slips. "One of these?" I hold up the other two in turn before grabbing the leather bustier. "Or would you prefer this? Or ..." I scoop up a kaleidoscope of jewel-colored bras and panties. "These? I mean, the choices are endless. Do you want sweet or slutty? Pretty or edgy? Demure slips, or thongs so tiny you'll need a pair of tweezers to remove them from my butt? Seriously, honey, I have no idea what you're after." I throw up my hands and wait for Liam's response. After a few seconds, I lean forward to check the screen, thinking the connection has dropped out and his image has frozen. Turns out Liam has frozen of his own accord. His mouth is open, and his gaze is raking all over me and the see-through lingerie I'm almost wearing.
"Liam?"
"Uhhh ..."
I wait again. He still doesn't say anything. "Liam? Can you hear me?"
"Yeah, I can hear you. And see you." He rubs the whiskers on his chin. "Fuck me, Liss, I can definitely see you."
I read in a Cosmo once that pretty underwear can make a woman feel powerful, but I never understood the concept until now. The way Liam's looking at me? I could ask him to do anything right now, and he'd agree.
"Okay," I say. "So, which one should I get?"
He closes his mouth and swallows. "All of them. Every goddamn one."
I laugh. "Sure. I'll just buy out the whole store." His piercing gaze makes it clear he approves of the idea. "You're serious? Liam, come on."
"Elissa ..." He brings the phone closer to his face. "Do you love me?"
"Of course."
"And do you want to make me happy?"
"You know I do. But these things are so overpriced. I mean, look ... this one costs—" My mouth dries up as I register the number printed on the price tag. "Jesus Cheese-Loving Christ! Fifteen hundred dollars?! Are you freaking kidding me? For what? A scrap of netting and lace? That's ridiculous!"
I hear footsteps, and one of the sales assistants calls out, "Is everything alright in there, miss?"
I want to yell that no, everything is not alright. Their stupid undies cost more than what I used to pay in rent, for God's sake. Instead, I say, "I'm fine, thanks. All good."
When the footsteps retreat, I turn back to Liam. "Honey, seriously, the cost of all of this ..." I gesture to the catastrophe of underwear around me, "... it could feed a small African nation for a year."