Blue? Maybe it was some sort of code word women understood but men didn’t, because he didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman wearing blue mascara. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
He wished he’d brought his cell phone so he could call Emma. But he’d left it charging at the hotel.
With a helpless glance at the cosmetics, he decided to leave. He had to visit a department store to get Emma and Max some underwear. Maybe he’d be able to find a salesgirl who could help him with cosmetics, as well.
CROSSROADS MALL, which was only a few blocks from the hotel, was already packed with back-to-school shoppers.
Preston skirted a group of teenagers with spiky hair, tattoos and black lipstick standing in front of a skater shop, carelessly blocking traffic, to find the directory near the escalators. The smell of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls drifted up from the food court one floor below as he scanned the list of stores.
Nordstrom. Perfect. They’d have underwear.
He headed toward the mall’s anchor store. But when he spotted a small, elegant lingerie shop along the way, he hesitated. Racks and racks of bustiers, lacy bras with matching bikini underwear, thongs, transparent nightgowns and silk robes lined the walls and display tables.
“Hi, there. Can I help you?” An attractive young woman hovered at the entrance.
“I don’t think so.” This place went well beyond basic underwear….
“We have a sale on right now,” she said, her voice enticing. “Buy two bras and get a third for free.”
How many bras would Emma need? With the sale, he might as well shop here—and get more than one or two.
“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll buy four.”
“That was easy.”
She laughed and waved him into the store. “I’m Felicia. And I’m sure we can find something you’ll appreciate.”
Something he would appreciate? He wasn’t here to buy something he’d appreciate. At least in the way this salesgirl meant it. “Just a bunch of basic bras and panties will be fine,” he told her.
“You’re buying lingerie and you don’t want it to be pretty?”
He didn’t want knowing what Emma was wearing under her clothes to drive him crazy. On the other hand, it did seem rather wasteful, even rude, to buy her something ugly on purpose. Especially when he saw so many things here that would look beautiful on her.
“Okay,” he relented. “Something pretty, but nothing too…bare.” Or he’d drive himself crazy and come across like a lech when he gave them to her.
Felicia guided him around a rack of robes to a whole section of bras and underwear. “First of all, what colors do you like?”
He studied the mannequins on display. “White.” With Emma’s tan, white was the obvious choice. “And black,” he added, thinking black would be almost as sexy.
“So we’ll go with four white bras, and then you can get two black ones free. Okay?”
He nodded.
“Now let’s check out the different styles we have available.”
She presented him with several kinds. “This one has an underwire to lift and support.” She motioned to show how it lifted, and Preston pictured Emma’s br**sts. The way they filled out her swimming-suit top. The way they curved and swayed ever so gently beneath his T-shirt….
The vision caused a physical reaction he’d rather not have in public. He shoved his hands into his pockets in an attempt to camouflage it.
“This other one snaps in front,” Felicia went on, thankfully oblivious. “Then there’s the contouring one. It has a little padding, in case your wife or lady friend would like something to make her look a little fuller.”
Emma didn’t need any padding. Personally, he liked the sheer bra with the underwire. “Let’s go with the first one.”
“Maybe you should get a few of these and then a few of the one that hooks in front.”
Sounded reasonable. “Fine.”
“Good. What size?”
He knew he could cup his hand to show her exactly how big Emma was. He’d definitely noticed. But he thought that might be too crude. He tried to translate what he’d seen of Emma to what he remembered from when he was married. Christy had been a “C.” Which would make Emma…
“A small ‘D’,” he said.
The salesgirl laughed. “A ‘D’ isn’t small. Are you sure?”
“She’s bigger than a ‘C.’ But she’s not very big around the ribs.”
“So you think maybe a thirty-four?”
He hoped that was close enough. “Yeah.”
“Now for the underwear.”
Preston was already feeling a little warm. And he got a whole lot warmer when she brought over a handful of thongs. One had white lace edges. Another had metal heart cutouts right where the strings attached to the scrap of fabric in front. A sheer black pair especially appealed to him.
Somehow, he hadn’t imagined this turning into such an erotic experience.
“Maybe I should go with a more conservative style,” he said.
The salesgirl obviously didn’t like this response. “Then she’ll have underwear lines.”
“So? At least she’ll have underwear. These are…”
“What everyone’s wearing,” she finished.
He tried, unsuccessfully, not to paint a mental picture of Emma standing before him, wearing the black thong while he kissed her neck, her br**sts, her stomach…. “Aren’t they uncomfortable?” he asked in an attempt to refocus.
“You get used to it,” she said with a shrug.
“Why bother?”
Her lips curved into a suggestive smile and her voice dropped. “Because, deep down, it’s every woman’s wish that someday she’ll have a man just like you looking at her with the stunned, slack-jawed expression you had on your face when I handed you the first pair.”
When he was imagining Emma…He couldn’t even conceal his interest in her from a stranger.
He tossed the underwear back on the counter. “Give me something my mother would wear.”
Her lip came out in a pout. “Really? You only live once.”
What she didn’t realize was that he hadn’t been living at all. Not for two years. If he saw so much as a hint of Emma in any of this thonglike underwear, there wouldn’t be a shower cold enough to help him. Besides, he was the one paying for this stuff. That entitled him to get the ones he wanted…er…the ones he didn’t want, right?