Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,44

up.

“There.”

She pointed to a display of lush, leather boots. The type that hugged your legs and gave you curves even if you’d never possessed a curve in your life.

I, however, had never worn anything sexier than snow boots. Granted, they had sported fluffy collars and tassels, but they couldn’t hold a candle to these babies.

These boots screamed sex. Loud and clear. S--E--X.

“I don’t think so.” I shook my head and scanned the area for the nearest emergency exit or restroom. I’d take either.

“Try them on.” She waved to a sales clerk as she ignored my pleas for mercy.

Before I knew what hit me, Diane had pushed me against a bench. The back of my knees hit the seat and I went down like a house of cards.

The sales clerk wasted not a moment. She piled boxes next to me on the bench and on the floor to either side of my legs. As she worked, Diane wrenched the clogs from my feet.

“Careful. Those are my favorites.”

Diane wrinkled her nose and turned to the clerk. “Anything in red? Let’s start there.”

“Red?” I squeaked. “You expect me to wear red boots.”

She thinned her lips and tipped her head to one side. God help me, there was a lecture coming.

“Do you want to feel alive?” Her eyebrows arched.

I nodded.

“Do you want to feel powerful?” Her brows snapped together.

I nodded again.

“Do you want to feel sexy and desirable?” She nodded, and I kept nodding, having learned to fear this side of her in first grade.

At this point, even the clerk was nodding.

There was no way in hell I was making a clean getaway.

I held up a single finger. “One pair. One.”

Diane clapped as if Marc Jacobs had died and left her his entire spring collection.

The clerk carefully unwrapped first one red boot and then the other. Having always been a sucker for the smell of leather, I clutched one to my chest and inhaled deeply.

Oh, my.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and slipped my foot into the boot, savoring the fit and feel of the soft leather as I pulled up the zipper, slowly guiding it to the spot where the boot stopped just below my knee.

Diane clutched one hand to her chest and sighed. The clerk thrust the second boot into my lap.

Once I’d stepped into the second, I pushed myself to my feet and took note of the moment.

The sleek style caressed my legs, the smell of new leather left me dizzy, and the red color oozed vitality. I, however, found myself totally incapable of walking a straight line in three-inch heels.

“You’ll get used to them,” Diane said.

This time Diane and the clerk gave dismissive waves in unison.

I’d managed one lap down along the benches to peek in a mirror and was headed back to where Diane and the clerk stood waiting, when Diane gasped. Loudly.

My heart jumped into my throat and I scurried toward her--a move that was neither easy nor pretty. “What? Is it the baby?”

“No.” She shook her head, eyes wide, and tipped her chin none too subtly toward the men’s side of the shoe department. “That guy’s checking you out.”

I flashed back on her earlier comment about Freddy. “You have some serious checking-me-out issues.”

But when I stole a glance at the gentleman in question, he was checking me out. Matter of fact, he smiled and gave me a quick nod.

I tripped over the edge of the mirror then somehow managed to steady myself against a rack of sling-backs. An odd sense of lightness washed through me. The fact I’d caught some stranger’s attention rocked me to the core.

I boldly decided to test the theory, walking from one mirror to the other, adding a little sway to my hips as I went back and forth. Back and forth.

My admirer stood his ground, not stepping away until I’d sank back down onto the bench.

I could see only one way to handle this situation. After all, the boots obviously possessed magic powers.

I looked up into the sales clerk’s eyes and smiled. “I’ll take them...in every color you’ve got.”

We left Nordstrom’s weighed down by four pairs of boots and my clogs. I’d put the red boots to immediate use and proudly strutted along with my purchases. Yet, even the challenge of balancing several heavy bags while wearing heels didn’t prevent what happened next.

I stopped abruptly outside the window of a hair salon and studied the trendy, sleek-looking women inside as my own explosion of curls reflected back at me in