Suffering mightily, Kate lifted her arms as Margo hooked her into what seemed to be some instrument of medieval torture. "Why are you doing this to me, Margo? I cut the check for your dippy string trio, didn't I? I went along with the truffles—even though they're snuffed out by pigs and hideously expensive."
Her face set like a general leading troops into battle, Margo adjusted the bustier. "You agreed to follow my guidance for your image tonight. The Annual Reception and Charity Auction is Pretenses' most important event. Now stop bitching."
"Stop playing with my tits."
"Oh, but I love them so. There." Margo stepped back, then nodded in satisfaction. "I didn't have much to work with, but…"
"Keep it up, Miss D Cup," Kate grumbled, then looked down and goggled. "Jesus, where did they come from?"
"Amazing, isn't it? In the right harness, those puppies just rise."
"I have breasts." Stunned, Kate patted the swell rising above black satin and lace. "And cleavage."
"It's all a matter of proper positioning and making the most of what we have. Even when it's next to nothing."
"Shut up." Grinning, Kate slicked her hands down her torso. "Look, Ma. I'm a girl."
"You ain't seen nothing yet. Put this on." Margo tossed her a thin swatch of stretchy lace.
Kate studied the garter belt, tugged it, snorted. "You're kidding."
"I'm not putting it on for you." Margo patted the bulge under her sparkling silver tunic. "At seven months and counting, bending over isn't as easy as it used to be."
"I feel like I'm in dress rehearsal for a porn flick." But after a struggle, Kate snapped the garter belt into place. "It's a little hard to breathe."
"Hose," Margo ordered. "You'd better sit down to put them on." With her hands on her hips, Margo supervised the production. "Not so fast, you'll snag. Those aren't your industrial-strength panty hose."
Brows beetled, Kate flicked up a glance. "Do you have to watch me?"
"Yes. Where's Laura?" Margo wondered and began to pace. "She should be here. And if the musicians don't show up in the next ten minutes, they won't have time to set up before the guests start to arrive."
"Everything'll be fine." Stalling, Kate smoothed her hose up her legs. "You know, Margo, I really do think it would be best if I kept sort of a low profile tonight. With this cloud over my head, it makes things awkward."
"Chicken."
Kate's head shot up. "I am not a chicken. I'm a scandal."
"And last year I was the scandal." Margo shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe we can work something out so that Laura can fill the role next year."
"It's not funny."
"Nobody understands that better than I do." Margo laid a hand on Kate's flushed cheek. "Nobody understands how scared you are right now better than I do."
"I guess not." Comforted, Kate turned her face to Margo's palm. "It's just that it's dragging on for so long. I keep expecting that Kusack character to show up and cart me off in chains. It's not enough that they can't prove I did it if I can't prove I didn't."
"I'm not going to say you'll get through it. That's not enough either. But no one who knows you believes it. And didn't you say Byron had some sort of angle to work on?"
"He didn't really explain." She moved her shoulder, tugged at the elastic strap on the lacy belt. "Just mumbled the equivalent of me not worrying my pretty head over it. I really hate that."
"Men like to play white knight, Kate. It doesn't hurt to let them do that now and again."
"It's been weeks since Marty got the copies to us. I've gone over them all, line by line, but…" She trailed off. "Well, we've all been pretty busy, and I haven't been jolted out of sleep by the sound of bullhorns telling me they've got me surrounded."
"Don't worry. When that happens we won't let them take you alive. If they raid the shop tonight, we'll have Byron help you escape in one of his macho cars."
"If he makes it at all. He had to fly down to L.A. this morning. I thought I told you."
"He'll be back in time."