He pushed through the swinging kitchen door and found a couple of caterers laughing and gossiping quietly in a corner. Bet they had something to talk about. And there, back to him by the sink, was the woman.
As he looked at her now, Micah realized there was no way she could be a caterer,
unless she owned the company. The red dress was silk and those four-inch
stilettos would have paid his mortgage for a month. She wasn’t real tall. Even
with the shoes, he guessed she’d be a little shorter than his six feet. Very
slim with just a slight rounding at her hips, strong, lean legs, and willowy
arms in the long sleeves. A mane of golden hair fell over her shoulders. The
color looked real but well tended, like it cost a bundle to keep that silken
Why the hell was he staring at her? Unlike his erstwhile boyfriend, he had no interest in women in any sexual or romantic sense. Never had. But what was she doing
She filled a glass from a spigot of filtered water.
Her head went back, so he assumed she was drinking. Suddenly she turned toward him, and he was staring into brilliant blue eyes. “Did you want some water too?”
Her voice was soft and low. A lilt suggested moonlight and magnolias.
“Uh, sure. Yes. I’d like some.”
She reached into a cabinet like she owned the place, pulled out a glass, and filled
it from the spigot. Micah watched the play of muscles across the low back of
her dress. Then she turned with the water glass extended. Man, what a beauty.
Delicate, sculptured features—wide eyes, soft lips, a pointed chin—all
surrounded by the velvet blanket of smooth gold hair.
Micah stared and… stared. Beautiful face. Beautiful Adam’s apple.
“You’re a guy.”
he smiled. “Of course. Why else would I be here, sugah?” The “why” sounded like
“wha” and the “I” like “ah.”
Micah grinned. “Excellent question. You’re quite convincing as a woman. And very beautiful.” Jesus, his body didn’t care what the guy was. Total turn-on. Who
knew he’d get excited over a cross-dresser?
“Thank you, kind sir. So are you.”
Micah stuck out his hand. “I’m Micah.”
He took it. His skin was so soft Micah could barely feel it except for the warmth that flowed straight to his balls. He smiled. “I’m called Queen.”
“But you’re not a queen, are you? I mean, a drag queen?”
He smiled. Hell, it was practically demure. “No. Just a man who likes to wear
women’s clothes sometimes.”
Micah was out of his depth here, but he felt willing to drown. “Like a transvestite?”
Queen sipped his water. “I prefer to avoid labels. I only get the chance to dress up
occasionally. I’m perfectly happy in men’s clothes as well.”
Micah smiled. “It’s confusing.”
Queen looked up through his lashes, which were darker than his hair. “How so?”
“I’m not usually attracted to women.”
“Ah, but I’m not a woman.”