The pièce de résistance, however, were the heels. She was normally a flip-flop kind of girl and wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of heels. But she was feeling brave and a little sassy and so, on her way home from lunch, she’d stopped and bought a pair of spiked, blingy heels that she had to admit looked damn good on her. She just hoped like hell she didn’t make an ass of herself by face-planting when she tried to walk in them.
“I wanted to look good for you,” she said hesitantly.
He gathered her close again, careful to keep her from teetering on her heels. “Baby, you look good to me no matter what you’re wearing, but let me assure you. You look gorgeous. I’m a lucky bastard to be seen with you. Let me change into something besides my work clothes and then I’ll take you out. Think you ca
