Progressive Properties is aggressively taking over where small neighborhoods once flourished. Now Angelique's Shelter, St. Gabriel's, is under attack. Who shows up at her door to deliver the news? John McDougal, now a prominent property attorney, an...
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"You can't keep me here against my will, you know? People will notice if I don't show up. They will come looking for me."
"Oh, you mean the people who don't care whether you live to see another day. Those people?"
Angelique hurled her pillow at John, and he easily swatted it away.
"Don't get cocky with me, John McDougle. I'm not in the mood."
"Really? Mind telling me what you are in the mood for?" John teased playfully. "I'd be happy to help. I even have several suggestions, if you are having trouble coming up with ideas."
"You're impossible," Angelique declared, but not before the "tell-all" blush flooded her cheeks.
John would have loved to have known what images came to mind, causing such a reaction. "You know you might as well make yourself comfortable because you're not going anywhere for a while."
"Oh, and how do you suppose I do that, Mr. Watch Dog?"
"Well, first I would think you would like to change out of those clothes."
"Yeah right, I'm sure you would just love that."
"Nothing I haven't seen before," he shamelessly reminded her. "I am only thinking of your comfort. It doesn't bother me either way." He closed his eyes again.
"Really?!" Angelique swung her legs off of her mattress to sit on the side closest to John. Two can play this game. "I guess you're right. I am rather uncomfortable."
John wondered what she was up to and snuck a peek at her. She locked gazes with him. Her blue eye sparked with a challenge. She tested his resolve by slowly unbuttoning her blouse, one button at a time, all the while her eyes never left John's face.
John was an excellent poker player. His face hardly changed. However, Angelique could tell he clenched his jaw by the once in a while flex of his cheek. Under her blouse, she was wearing a cream lace camisole. She stood up slowly and removed her skirt.
Angelique watched the rapid rise and fall of John's folded arms that lay across his chest. She wasn't wearing pantyhose, just lacy cream-colored underwear that came into view as her skirt slid down her form and pooled around her feet.
Ultra-feminine and sexy as all hell, she kicked the skirt aside. Then she reached up to slide her blouse off one shoulder, then the other, shrugging it to slide off and down her back until it also hits the floor. Angelique kicked off her ballet flat and sat down on the very edge of the bed. She crossed her legs, swinging her foot with slight impatience.
"So, was this what you had in mind?" she taunted.
John smiled shrewdly, lifting his one eyebrow. "I enjoyed the striptease but you're fooling yourself if you think it bothers me in the least."
