What do you mean?” I ask round-eyed with curiosity.

He leans in to whisper in my ear, “There’s nothing in the message about brand new clothes. Just clothes that are different from the ones we’re wearing.”

Oh, how I hate the little shiver that runs down my spine when the heat from his breath hit my skin. “Huh?” I can’t think straight when all I can smell is his cologne.

He pulls back and looks me in the eye. “All we have to do is switch clothes, Dakota. We’ll go out in clothes that we did not come into the store in.”

It sinks in slowly, and I feel like dawn just broke. “Switch clothes with each other. Oh, my God. Don’t let it go to your head, but that is genius!” I toss the sweater aside. “Okay. Nearest dressing room, then.” We make a beeline for the changing room. It’s a women’s room, but there’s nobody in any of the little stalls, so I think it’ll be okay. I wave him in behind me and immediately lock myself in one stall while he takes another.

“Strip down,” he orders.

“Thanks for making that clear,” I whisper back as I pull my sweater off and toss it over the partition. Boots come next, then jeans. I can’t imagine how he thinks he’ll fit into them, but maybe he can think of something. I pull off my socks next and ball them up, lobbing them over as well.

“Shit. None of these fit.”

I roll my eyes. “No kidding.”

“You haven’t given me everything yet,” he points out.

“Oh. Right.” I look down at my bra and panties. “You won’t fit into these, either.”

“I’ll make something work.”

“Jesus Christ. My favorite goddamn underwear and you’re going to stretch it all out.” I peel off the panties and unhook the bra, thanking God the entire time that I wore my best set. If I were wearing period panties, I’d kill myself. I hand it over instead of throwing it.

“Hmm. Nice.”

I jump up and swipe my arm over the top of the partition, hoping to take a swipe at him. “Shut it and give me your things, please.” I’m completely naked, for God’s sake.

“Okay. Here you go.” He even took the time to fold everything.

Compulsive, I decide. It’s all huge. Even the boxer briefs. “Huh. Men’s underwear is way more comfy than women’s,” I observe.

“I wish I could say the same in reverse,” he groans.

I can’t help but giggle as I pull on his jeans. “Oh, jeez, these are falling down even with the belt cinched all the way,” I complain. “Then again, the shirt will probably be a dress on me, anyway.” Sure enough, it comes almost to my knees. I carry what doesn’t fit. “Are you ready?” I ask, freaked out all over again. At least the shop’s entrance is not too far from where we’re getting dressed, but there’s still the escalator to get down and the concourse to navigate. Oh, and then the street. A very crowded, very public street complete with buses, taxis, and people. Hell, what am I worried about? Millions are going to see it on their TV screens.

“I don’t think I could ever possibly be ready for this,” he mutters.

I bite the side of my tongue to keep from laughing too hard. “Come on. I bet you look pretty.” I open my door and step out, then rap on his with the backs of my knuckles. “Come on. Let’s see.”

“I look ridiculous.”

“And that’s different from any other time?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

“Good point.” The knob turns and the door opens.

I take a deep breath and get ready to laugh, but instead—I just about fall to my knees and praise Jesus because damn.

“They were all that fit,” he says, striking a pose in nothing but my panties.

It takes me a few seconds to recover from the first rush of blood to my nether regions. How long has it been since I? “Umm—did you stuff my socks in there?” I say waving my hand in the vague direction of his package.

“No. Why?”

“Do you have an erection?”

“No.”

This no had a meaning all of its own. Jesus what is he packing in there? My poor underwear is straining with all the man meat stuffed into it. I clear my throat. “Well…I can’t say it thrills me that my panties fit you. I don’t know if I should be insulted or what.”

“They’re really stretchy.” He turns to show me the back view, and it’s about the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen.

He’s not eye candy. He’s practically the enemy. Stop this.

Only I can’t help it. He’s so fine.

They used to be boy shorts. Now they’re a bikini. I swallow hard and try to shake off the odd sensation in my belly, but it’s nearly impossible.

Silence falls heavy between us.

Something flashes in his eyes.

I’ve seen that look before. In other men’s eyes. I shake my head. What the hell am I thinking of?

“Okay, well, we’d better get going. We have four minutes to make it out of here.” He gathers up the rest of my things and turns to me. He catches me staring at him.

“You ready for this?” I ask.

His grin is positively feral. “Dakota, I’m wearing women’s underwear and trying to feel secure in my manhood.”

“Okay.” I peek outside the dressing area to the main floor. The ladies perusing casual wear are about to get a real treat.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

We do. I step out first and lead the way with him right behind me.

“Oh my God, everybody is looking at us,” I say from between clenched teeth. I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I’m going to walk out of here in a man’s shirt and with Trent following in my panties.

I hear a gasp, followed by what sounds like somebody dropping an armload of clothes, and maybe a purse, and maybe even a small child, but I can’t be sure because I’d have to look over to be sure and that would mean possibly making eye contact and I can’t do that, no way. Absolutely not. I keep my eyes front and center, a smile plastered on my face.

“I bet none of these ladies expected a show today,” he says cockily behind me.

I turn around and my heart flips. He’s actually strutting behind me like he owns the world. “I should’ve known you would get off on the attention,” I mutter. Silly me, thinking for even a split second that he’d be embarrassed to wear my underwear in public. Then again, why should he be? He looks like a sex god come to life. A very tall, very cut, very handsome sex god.

“You look pretty hot yourself,” he says with a wicked grin.

We step on the escalator and now I can hear flat-out laughter, catcalls and whooping. My cheeks burn from it and from him calling me pretty hot. Do I look hot? This is the second time he’s called me that. I hear the clicking of phone cameras coming from just about every direction and tell myself it’s not time to think about flirting. “How much time do we have left?”

He looks at his watch. “Two minutes.”

We start running down the escalator. “Excuse me, excuse,” as we pass people who stare openly at us.

“Get out of the way!” he yells as we hit the main concourse. A security guard catches my eye. Trent must see him, too, because he grabs my hand and we both burst out onto the street, breathless and laughing.

“I can’t believe we just did that!” I gasp.

“We’re not finished yet!” He takes my hand and pulls me behind him at a dead run, heading for the parking lot.

Horns honk, people cheer, I even hear one woman ask Trent to marry her as we rush past.

He looks over his shoulder with a wide, brilliant smile and shouts, “Sorry, sugar tits. I’m married to her.”

Whoa! That sends a weird thrill down my spine. “Did you just call that woman sugar tits?” I pant.

“I never thought I’d see the day. You’re jealous,” he says with a chuckle.

“You want me to ride this with no pants on?” I gape as we reach his motorcycle, which is basically the most macho piece of machinery I’ve ever seen.

“Here,” he says handing me my clothes. “And I’ll need my pants too. I don’t want to be arrested for indecent exposure.” His pants are all he puts on before sliding into his shoes and throwing one leg over the chrome beast. Sunlight hits his skin making it gleam as he kicks the starter and the engine’s roar fills my head as he turns back to look at me. “Hop on.”

A funny warmth spreads through my core when I realize I’ll be plastered up against that bare back, my arms around his waist.

“Hurry before somebody comes looking for us!” he orders.

I throw one leg over the way he did and immediately, the vibration from the engine moves all through me. Between that and the contact with Trent’s bare skin, I feel myself getting wet. Hungering for him.

Only the buzzing of my phone pulls me out of it. Trent reaches for his at the same time.

“Woo hoo!” I squeeze him a little tighter than I technically need to as we pull out of the parking garage and onto the street.