“And for Tonic to be so skittish? I guess she’s the more quiet of the two, though they’re pretty evenly matched.” Ming frowns. “This guy have a personality-zapping dick?”

I turn to catch my profile in the full-length mirror I brought in from the ladies’ room. “I don’t know what he has. However, I’d submit he is a dick of some kind.”

Ming places her cup and saucer beside her on the counter. “Any aspirations for this dress, or are you going to put it out there and see what it reels in?”

“It’s amazing, Ming. Truly.” I sway side to side, letting it flare. The bodice fits like a second skin, highlighting the tiny gaps between the pearl buttons. It treads the line between sweet and saucy, leaning just enough in the direction of the latter I’ll have to seriously consider where I show it off. I twirl a full 360 degrees, the draft created by my skirt giving me the shivers. The sensation continues after I stop, though. I check my profile again and see that the hem is caught on the right back fastener of my hold-ups, exposing my leg from just below my butt cheek.

I angle my backside toward Ming. “Any thoughts on how to avoid this?”

“Why would you want to? Look at that little tush. I wanna take a bite out of it.” She gnashes her teeth, making grabby motions with her hands. “Also, I love that you’re wearing a garter belt to your day job.”

I peek at the clip keeping the thigh-high stocking in place. I don’t generally wear them here, but it was cool enough to justify hosiery today. Plus, there’s something fun about sneaking a feature of my Kitten persona into the office, even if I’m the only one who knows I’ve done it.

“What?” I bend over my leg, then straighten, trailing my palms from ankle to knee. I run a hand along my thigh, smoothing up my hamstring before dancing my fingertips over the top of the stocking. “These old things?” My sultry voice borders on cartoonish.

Ming snorts in a laugh, then releases a cackle that has her whole body shaking. “Hey, good-lookin’!”

I shimmy my hips, while Ming blots her eyes, still laughing. “Oh, no—not you.” She nods to something—my chest seizes; someone?—behind me. “Him.”

I cringe. Welp, at least I could give the FedEx guy a thrill as well as my signature.

I pivot the mirror to get a view of the door.

Oh. My. God. In the doorway stands none other than William Darcy.

I get a kick of that same high and low I’ve been feeling whenever I think of him: a swell of desire tinged with regret that I have to hate him for being friends with someone who hurt Jane, and for what he himself did to Wickham. His unexpected appearance sends the desire into overdrive.