Sinful Too by Victor McGlothin Page A

favorite man-catching pants dry-cleaned was a great move, if she did say so herself.
    Oh my Lawd, that woman is fine
, Richard’s carnal man confessed to him. He sat on the cushioned love seat outside the fitting room, fidgeting uncomfortably.
Whew, I’d better get my stuff and leave before I embarrass myself again.
He wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks, refusing to admit to himself that Dior had been running circles in his mind since their previous meeting. He thought he had successfully wished her out of there but she reappeared when he crafted his Sunday morning message, again when he delivered it, and several times when members of his congregation expressed how it inspired them to take a good look at their spiritual wardrobe. Dior observed his restlessness through a crack in the storeroom door. He was sitting on pins and needles and shifting his weight every five seconds. It was fun to see him frying in his own grease and battling with the inner man, who was undoubtedly putting up a decent fight.
    Richard stood when she returned with a plastic garment bag. “After seeing what you did for your last customer’s ego, I think I’ll try mine on too,” he said nervously. Immediately, he wanted to rescind every word. He hadn’t intended to knock around in a small booth but now it was all he could do to prolong his visit without making his attraction to her painfully obvious.
    “I hope you’re not expecting monogrammed sleeves like I did for Mr. Keith?”
    Richard hadn’t considered that but it did present the chance to see Dior again. “Why don’t I get the special treatment?” he asked, beaming on the inside.
    “I put in for Mr. Keith because he reminds me of my granddaddy and I
like
him,” she quipped.
    “Oh, that’s cold. I see how you do me,” he played along. “And just for that I refuse to accept this suit until you’ve had my initials stitched into the sleeve too.” Dior had released the rabbit and the chase ensued right on schedule. Richard wasn’t all dog but he was a man and that qualified him in Dior’s book. She counted on her ability to pique his interest and her competence to have him sniffing around her in due time. When she took a deep measured breath, her breast heaved forward. Richard’s tongue almost fell out of his mouth.
    “Okay then, I’ll get you squared away but it’s coming out of your pocket, not mine. Besides, you owe me for inspiring your
message.
I ain’t, I mean I didn’t, forget that either.” Dior whisked the plastic bag over her shoulder in a feigned protest. “It ought to be ready in a few days.”
    “Why so long?” he asked, too quick to salvage any cool points. “Uh, I was hoping to get it squared away and off my to-do list,” he explained pitifully. He felt like a teenaged boy with designs on kissing the cute new girl on the block and there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, not even if he wanted to. Dior was firing pheromones and subtle glances at him. True enough, they had connected the first time they met. What Richard was willing to do about it scared him. The last time he acted against his better judgment where a female was concerned, he had hell on earth to pay. A reckless indiscretion with a church secretary almost cost him a fledgling marriage. Even though it had occurred over ten years ago, the sting was ever-present and he couldn’t see traveling down the same bad road twice.
    Dior wrote down Richard’s initials then grabbed a generic card with the store logo and phone number on the front. He looked away when she scribbled something on the back.
    “Here you go, Pastor Dr. Richard Allamay, PhD,” she said, as she offered the card in an ultra nonchalant manner. “Yeah, since you carried yourself like somebody, I looked you up on the Internet. I guess you’re some kind of big shot?”
    “You don’t seem even slightly impressed.”
    “I try to get the lowdown on my upscale customers when I can. You’ve got a good life and you