Читать книгу Hold on to the Nights - Karen Foley - Страница 8

JOSIE HEARD the rumble of the delivery truck when it arrived. Leaning over the counter, she peered through the display window with its colorful exhibit of costumed mannequins, toward the street, where a large van had pulled up to the curb. She’d been eyeballing Tom, the delivery guy, for two months now, and today she was finally going to let him know she was interested.

Stepping back from the window, Josie glanced down at the costume she’d chosen. The costume shop, Dressed to Thrill, wasn’t big, but what space they did have was packed with variety. In the end, she’d selected a slave-girl getup, complete with collar and chain. It was a high-end reproduction of the same outfit Princess Leia had worn in Return of the Jedi, after she’d been captured by Jabba the Hutt and added to his harem.

The bells over the door tinkled, and a gust of cool, autumn air caused goose bumps to rise on her bare flesh.

“Hi, Tom. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Hey, Josie,” he said, his eyes running over her as he brought the two-wheeled dolly to a stop. “Wow. That’s, uh, quite the outfit you’re wearing.”

Josie leaned close to him as she signed the receipt for the cartons of costumes and accessories. “Like it?”

He swallowed hard. “It looks great on you.”

“So,” she purred, “how’ve you been? It’s been a while since you’ve …delivered.”

Tom’s neck and ears turned ruddy. “Yeah,” he agreed with an uneasy laugh. “It’s been a while.”

Josie edged even closer, prepared to really crank up the heat, when his cell phone rang. He smiled apologetically before he reached for the small phone at his hip. Turning away, he spoke into the receiver. “Well, hello there, sweetie,” he crooned.

Sweetie? Josie stared at him in dismay before walking quickly back to the reception counter where a computer beeped loudly, indicating an online order had just arrived. She automatically opened the e-mail request, but her eyes were on Tom as he bent his head and spoke quietly into the phone. The thought that he might be involved with somebody hadn’t crossed her mind, not when he looked at her as if he was starving and she was an all-you-can-eat buffet. She wanted to howl with frustration at the unfairness of it all. Just when she was getting up the courage to finally put the moves on him.

With one eye on Tom, Josie scanned the online order from a woman right here in Chicago named Lara Whitfield. She was requesting any costume related to the popular sci-fi television series, Galaxy’s End. Josie was a huge fan of the hit show, which starred sexy Scottish actor, Graeme Hamilton. She read the short note that Lara Whitfield had included at the bottom of her order.

I’m attending a Galaxy’s End fan festival in two days, so need this shipped overnight express. I’d prefer something all-concealing, like the shaman costume.

A fan festival, huh? Josie snorted, envisioning a ballroom filled with middle-aged, overweight women, all clamoring for a kiss or an autograph from the famed actor. Lara Whitfield obviously needed a life. It was one thing to crush on a delivery guy; it was another thing altogether to crush on a Hollywood celebrity.

One thing was certain, however; Lara Whitfield wouldn’t get so much as a second glance from any guy if she was disguised as the Galaxy’s End shaman. That particular costume was more concealing than a burka. Besides which, they were running low on stock, having just gotten through the Halloween rush. Josie was pretty sure they were sold out of Galaxy’s End costumes.

A quick electronic query of the shop’s inventory confirmed her suspicions. Worse, when she performed a query for alternative costumes, the computer returned a picture of the very same Star Wars slave-girl outfit that Josie wore right now.

Across the shop, Tom finished his conversation and turned back to Josie. She gave him a polite smile, refusing to be misled by the appreciation in his eyes. “Thanks, Tom,” she said airily, and turned back to the computer, pretending to be absorbed in the online order. “I’ll see you next time.”

She sensed his confusion, but didn’t look at him again. When the door closed behind him, her shoulders slumped. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she concentrated on the order. Too bad the customer had asked for something that concealed rather than revealed; Josie was certain the slave-girl getup would garner more attention than the woman had ever had in her life and she wanted nothing more than to get rid of the exotic costume. Having it in the shop was a humiliating reminder of her failure with Tom. She was in the middle of responding that they had no costumes available, when her fingers paused over the keyboard.

Why couldn’t she send Lara Whitfield the slave-girl costume? Sure, it was revealing, but the size was right. She’d even throw in a gorgeous, wrought-gold mask that would match the metal bikini and completely disguise her face, for free. What did it matter that it was a Star Wars costume and not a Galaxy’s End costume? They were both sci-fi space flicks, right? Besides, she’d be doing the poor woman a favor. Nobody would even notice her in the shaman’s voluminous robes, but the slave-girl getup was guaranteed to turn heads. And just to make sure the customer didn’t complain too much, she’d give it to her at a twenty-five percent discount. Combined with the free mask, it was more than a bargain; it was a steal.

With a grim smile, Josie typed in the stock number for the slave-girl costume and completed the order. Pushing back from the counter, she made her way to the stockroom to remove and package the costume. She refused to think about how the customer would react when she opened the parcel and realized she’d received the wrong item. Josie had screwed up orders before, but never deliberately. She told herself she had the customer’s best interests in mind. She just hoped the costume would bring Lara Whitfield better luck than it had brought her.