EPILOGUE

“Happy Birthday, Bunny.” Teri offered him the gift-wrapped box.

“But it’s not my birthday,” Peter said, surprised.

Teri shrugged and grinned. “The way I see it,” she said, “a birthday is your own personal holiday, isn’t it? You can celebrate it anytime you want. Go ahead, open it.”

She watched with bright, somewhat anxious eyes as he tugged at the pink bow, undid the ribbon and tore off the white paper. “Nice wrapping,” he said.

She shrugged. “Lee did it for me,” she said. “You know how lousy I am at that sort of thing.”

The box inside was taped shut. He pried the tape loose with a fingernail and lifted the lid off the box. Inside was a layer of lavender tissue paper, neatly folded. He unfolded it, and stared, a puzzled expression on his face. He poked at the contents with one finger. Finally, he lifted them out of the box.

“They’re panties,” Teri said, growing more apprehensive. Shit, what if she’d gotten it wrong? What if he was insulted?

“Women’s panties,” he said, his face expressionless.

“Yes,” she admitted nervously.

He read the teal-blue embroidery on the sheer pink silk. “Mais l’amour viendra.”

“It’s French. It means love will come. That’s what the saleslady told me, anyway.”

“A little foreign tongue,” he said.

“What?”

“Oh...nothing,” he said, “Just something I remember hearing one time.”

He lifted his eyes but still he did not look directly at her. He looked past her at the window, his face still blank. “Did Lee know what he was wrapping?” he asked after a moment.

“Absolutely not. The box was taped when he wrapped it. Well,” she shrugged helplessly, “he might have guessed, I suppose. From the size and all. You know, woman’s intuition. If he did, he didn’t say. I would never have told him. Honest. This is just between the two of us.”

The silence grew long. She began to feel like all kinds of a fool. It had seemed like such a good idea when she had seen them at Macy’s, and a way to pique his interest. Now....

“Excuse me,” he said, his face still offering no clue to how he was feeling. He took the box with him and went into the bedroom, closing the door after himself.

Double shit, she thought. She sat frozen in her chair, staring at the closed door. Was he pissed? Hurt? Embarrassed? I should have had my head examined. She felt like kicking herself.

The minutes stretched into what seemed hours. Her mouth was as dry as dust. She thought that she ought to say something to him, yell an apology through the door, or at least an explanation.

That was it, really, she ought to have talked to him about how she felt, not just have sprung something on him like this. No wonder he was in shock.

She was about to get out of her chair, go to the door, when it opened. She caught her breath. Peter was wearing the pink panties—and nothing else. And there was no question about the effect of them on his sexual state of mind. The way they were being stretched, she suspected that the sheer pink silk wasn’t long for this world.

He paused in the doorway, smiling shyly, his erection jutting proudly forward. “What do you think? Are they my color?” he asked. “How do they look?”

All right, she thought deliriously. She reached down and pulled her tee shirt up and off.

“Good enough to eat,” she said.