CHAPTER 7: Desiree
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Desiree stepped inside the packed restaurant.
“Right this way, miss,” said a middle aged waiter. “Richard is expecting you.”
“Thanks.” She followed the waiter to a small table in the corner.
Richard stood, his greyish-blue eyes skimming over her from hair to toes. “You look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you.” She’d spent extra care with her appearance, wanting to look available but not like a streetwalker.
She’d left the first three buttons of her white blouse undone, showing a hint of cleavage except when she leaned forward. Then, whomever she was talking to would get an eyeful of a sexy white, lace bra and soft flesh—not enough to satisfy but enough to tease and tantalize. She wore a tight, red skirt that hugged her legs and ass with a small pocket sewn
