Body Language: The Boot Knockers, Book 2 Read Online Free Page A

and somehow Damian had known it. She was in for a great week.
    “Yes, I’m ready,” she said.
    Siri grinned and turned to Holly. “You think about her wardrobe while I start with her color.”
    “Sure thing.” Holly patted Ruthie’s shoulder. “Can I get you anything? A mimosa?”
    “Uh, sure.” More than anything she wanted to ask about the sex kitty thing, but if she heard that term one more time she might run out of here.
    Holly brought her a tall flute. Ruthie took one drink of the citrusy nectar and wanted to request the bathtub size. A warm tingle enveloped her. Between the light dose of alcohol on an empty stomach, Siri’s soothing touch on her scalp and Damian’s scorching hotness, she was pretty damn glad she’d come to the Boot Knockers Ranch.
    “Don’t look in the mirror. Just come with me.” Holly grabbed Ruthie’s hands and launched her to her feet. After being primped and powdered for over an hour, she felt a little stiff. And the two mimosas on an empty stomach added to her feeling of unsteadiness.
    As she passed the fruit bowl, she grabbed a banana. Following Holly into what appeared to be a large walk-in closet stuffed with every type of clothing a woman could want, she stopped dead.
    One whole wall was filled with lingerie, which Holly headed straight for. She rummaged through a drawer. “Sex kitty means stockings. Black. Maybe with bows?” She flung two airy black confections over her shoulder and continued to another rack.
    Too jittery for words, Ruthie unpeeled her banana and bit into it. She chewed steadily while Holly flitted around the room, gathering a wardrobe.
    “Holly? What did you mean when you told Damian to get his camera equipment?”
    She shot Ruthie a smile and dumped the garments onto a fat white ottoman. “Damian is a master with a camera, which you’ll soon find out. Now strip out of that sundress and get into these.” She selected a white silk cami, a pair of lace panties and a garter belt.
    Holly stood back. “This goes perfect with your hair. Wait till you see it! Siri is a goddess.”
    Was it Ruthie’s imagination, or was Holly blushing now?
    She hurried from the space, leaving Ruthie with more than a pile of lingerie. She glanced down at her nails, which were lacquered baby pink. Her pinky nails had been fitted with miniscule gold hoops that looked as erotic as hell. Trepidation wove through her.
    What was she doing? She didn’t belong in a sex club, being made over into a sex kitty.
    Then she pictured the bad-boy smile that had graced Damian’s face, and whatever heat was in her stomach from the alcohol flowed south. Careful with her nail ornaments, she stripped off her cotton sundress. Among the beautiful high-end garments in this room, her dress looked like a disreputable cousin.
    When she stepped out of her sandals and simple cotton panties, awareness struck.
    Damian planned to photograph her—wearing these clothes. And later maybe wearing nothing but his beard rash all over her skin.
    Oh God. White-hot need clutched her. She rushed into the clothing, eager to get to the next stage of this insane game.
    When Holly cracked the door and peered around it, her eyes grew round. “Wow. Girl, you are…” She pinched thumb and fingers together and kissed them. “Damian’s going to be one very happy cowboy.”
    Ruthie smoothed her hands over her waist, which felt impossibly small in the silk camisole.
    “I’d love to play with you, sex kitty,” she said, low and insinuatingly. “But Damian first. Now, if you wish to play during your stay, I’m always open.”
    Ruthie’s nipples pinched at the attention she’d drawn��and from a woman. That explained her blush when she’d called Siri a goddess.
    Holly moved behind her and fiddled with her attire.
    Siri appeared, and they both stood back to admire Ruthie.
    “The hair’s perfect,” Holly said.
    Siri nodded. “You did a fabulous job on her wardrobe, as always.” The women turned to each other and