Georgette squirmed, a single indecorous wriggle of unbearable delight. Several blond curls broke free from her careless knot and dangled around her face, one sporting a forlorn hairpin that swung with her movement. “Oooh, yes, Mister Brightenburg, he of the most delicious legs. What he does to a pair of silken hose and breeches—”
Appalled, Fidelity dropped a stitch. “Georgette!” Not that it wasn’t true. But saying it aloud was beyond the pale, even here in the privacy of the morning room. Although come to think of it, it would be lovely to just hang it all and squirm along with her.
It didn’t help that her traitorous thoughts dwelled on the legs in question. Those lovely curving calves, the whip-cord muscular thighs, and above that…
“Indeed!” Jessica flipped upright on the sofa and whirled, grabbing Georgette’s shoulders. “Such men should be required by law to wear nothing else.”
Fidelity’s hands jerked and another loop slid off the needle. Those girls can’t get any worse. It’s impossible.
“Or nothing at all!”
So much for that notion.
How far is Fidelity Scott willing to go to catch the sexiest bad boy in Mayfair? When she catches him, will he prove worth the effort? And will her young cousins be help or hindrance in her scandalous plan?
Thanks for stopping by. Cheers and happy reading,