Well, shit. The black dress wasn’t lined, so now she had to change. Leaving the black one in a heap on the guest bed, she’d pulled out a one-shoulder sheath in bold fuchsia silk. It had a narrow skirt with a hem that hit just below the knee, and a black sash at the waist. It was elegant, more suited to a cocktail party than dinner, but it was the only thing she had that was fully lined. Which was going to come in handy for another reason, because she’d torn the clasp off her strapless bra the last time she’d worn it and hadn’t replaced it yet, which meant she was free-boobin’ tonight.

It was way too obvious that she was braless beneath the soft silk, even with the lining, but a short black cardigan covered her nipples and had the added benefit of taking some of the fancy out of the dress. It also covered her tattoo, which she didn’t love, but keeping her nipples covered was more important. She’d swapped out the red shoes for black strappy heels, the red lipstick for pink, then lay down on the chaise and tried to remember how to breathe.

It helped to distract herself with the changes she’d made in the last week to the third floor. Cade had told her she could do anything she liked with the space, and she’d taken him at his word. She’d arranged her books and knickknacks on the built-in shelves that lined one wall, and hung her mirror by the door. She liked the console table under the window, so she’d left it there, adding her Tiffany lamp and angling the chaise next to it, so she had both natural light and the lamp for reading.

She’d hung a couple of her favorite prints, covered the bare wood floors with a trio of rugs, and draped her crocheted blanket over the chaise. The result was a warm, cozy space that made her feel relaxed and at home. After a few moments of deep breathing and staring at the Matisse print on the wall, she felt markedly calmer.

Until the doorbell rang.

She scrambled to her feet, her heart in her throat, and scooped up her small evening purse. Her heels were just high enough that she need to take the stairs slowly or risk a broken neck, and she clung to the railing all the way down. She didn’t want the most exciting night of her life to end in the ER.

Might end up there anyway, she thought, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs for one last deep breath. Then she stepped forward, reaching for the door, and tripped over the cat, who was apparently just as eager as she was to welcome Cade home.

Her sharp cry echoed in the entryway, and she fell hard against the front door, rattling it in its frame.