“Hey, jailer,” Katie yelled from the bathroom. “Take a look at the outfits on the bed.”

Molly wandered to the alcove housing the four-poster, lake-sized bed. Swaths of sheer, shimmery blue fabric were artfully draped across the metal rods above the mattress, creating a canopy. Her gaze caught on leopard-print fur-lined handcuffs—a pair dangled from each side of the headboard.

An image popped into her head of being locked in cuffs as a man teased her with yards of silk.

Not a man. Deacon.

Dammit. Stop thinking about him. It’s over.

She focused on the clothing displayed on the pristine white comforter, as if arranged by a boutique salesperson.

The first outfit was a pale pink baby-doll dress—holy crap was it short, even with the puffy rolled layers of chiffon at the hemline. The neckline had been trimmed in white marabou. The silver stilettos on the floor were also festooned with pink fluff.

It screamed . . . retro. If anyone could pull off the sixties sex-kitten vibe, Katie could.

Outfit number two paired skinny jeans—Gucci, of course—with a shirt that started out a brilliant blue across the shoulders. The colors gradually lightened to a pale blue that reminded Molly of Deacon’s eyes. The fringe mimicked the ombré look of the fabric—but in reverse. The boots Katie had picked were killer: black leather with a cuff that covered the knee and the needle-sharp heels were at least four inches.

It screamed hot and sexy. No one wore a pair of fifteen-hundred-dollar jeans better than Katie.

The last outfit had a tiny red leather skirt, a sleeveless white V-neck silk shirt, and a sequined bolero jacket in tones of red, cream, and black. The black ankle-strap heels completed the ensemble.

Katie poked her head out. “So? What do you think?”

“Does the little red number come with a cape and a bull?”

She grinned. “It might attract a certain bull rider I’ve invited.”

“Won’t Ivan get jealous?”

“I’m counting on it. But tell me what you think of the others.”

“I like the fluffy pink baby doll.”

“But?” Katie prompted.

What Molly knew about fashion was cribbed from two sources: Fashion Police and InStyle magazine. So she hesitated to be truthful with Katie, who attended fashion week in New York. “Well . . .”

“Spit it out.”

“The shoes make the outfit boudoir wear. If you had white go-go boots, then it’d be perfect.”

Katie squealed. “I have a pair of those! Can you grab them out of my shoe closet?”

“Sure.” Katie had multiple closets in this mini-mansion. But the shoe closet was actually a small sitting room she’d remodeled for her vast footwear collection.

Since it’d be easy to get distracted by the shoe mecca, Molly headed straight for the boot section of the closet and found the shiny white vinyl boots on the second shelf.

Thankfully, Katie was dressed when Molly returned. Her long blond hair fell in perfect waves. She’d applied her makeup with a heavier hand—smoky cat eyes, frosted lips, blusher that accentuated her cheekbones.

“You look stunning, birthday girl,” Molly told her.

“Thank you. Now that I’m getting older, I’ll probably have to double up on my skin-care regimen.”

“Older. Right. You’re what . . . twenty-four today?”

“No, I’m a quarter of a century, baby.” Katie tugged Molly into the bathroom. “So tell me about the party setup. It’s killing me not to be in charge of it.”

“You’ll live. Tell me who you invited.”

Katie’s eyes met hers in the mirror. “I’ll tell you who I didn’t invite.”

For the briefest moment Molly felt bad for Deacon because she knew what it was like to be excluded.

“Ronin and Amery won’t show. Neither will Knox and Shiori. Beck will be here. Big Rig . . . he’s scared of me, I think. Maddox said he’d put in an appearance. So did Fisher.”

“What about Blue?”

Her pert nose wrinkled. “I didn’t invite him.”

“Katie, he’s your boss.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t need him judging me on my birthday!”

“But he’s Fee’s brother.”

“You think Fee wants Blue to see her getting wild? No. He’d sic Gil on her, to try to talk some sense into her, which is why Gil wasn’t invited either. Anyway, some of my friends from high school will be here, as will others I’ve met here and there. It oughta be an eclectic bunch.”

Jaz strolled in and gawked at the luxury bathroom. “Wow. This is . . .”