She realized she was staring, and somehow tore her eyes away. “I'm sorry,” she stammered, her skin feeling as if it were on fire.
“Why?” Heather asked, her voice warm. “I have to say, sweetheart, you look good enough to eat. Such a wonderful crimson!” She stepped forward and fingered a bra strap. “I could never wear something like that. But you have the right coloring for it.”
“Me?” Barb's laugh was disbelieving. “Are you kidding? Look at you. I feel like a big fat cow just being in the same room. Your body...” she swallowed around the lump of longing in her throat. “You're gorgeous.”
Heather shrugged. “I don't know. Don't you think it's weird, to be complimented on your good looks? I mean, it's not as if I worked for it. It's just a happy accident of genetics.
“Now, staying in shape,
