By Wendy Wax
Miranda Smith isn't really shocked to find a cache of racy images in her husband's desk--after all, he's the president of Ballantyne Bras. yet she's greater than surprised to achieve it is his buff, burly physique encased within the purple satin bustier and matching bikini panties...and he is nowhere to be chanced on. nor is their existence mark downs nor the corporate coffers. therefore starts Miranda's hilarious, frantic scramble to solve the secret in the back of her husband's disappearance, unlawful accounting practices, and penchant for donning silky teddies and kitten heels.
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And he’d never mentioned this to her. And he did it with other women. Okay. Things could be worse. Things could always be worse. Right. Miranda bent over to retrieve the packet of photos, which now had strips of shredded paper from the wastebasket clinging to it. She knew, without thinking, what her mother would say. “Make him give up Miss Manicure, Miranda. ” Sure. Then they could get matching underwear made—they owned the company, after all—and, and, well, she wasn’t sure exactly what you did once you were dressed up that way with your husband, but maybe it would be fun.
Something flickered in her grandmother’s eyes and for a long moment they stared at each other, weighing the silence, waiting for the other to speak. Miranda had the oddest sense that her grandmother knew . . something. Please, God, she thought, please don’t let it be the cross-dressing part. She braced herself for the third degree, though that was more her mother’s style than Gran’s, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when her grandmother let the subject pass. ” She definitely knew something.
He ignored the jibe. “It is up to the family to file a missing persons report. Don’t you think a woman would file a report if her husband were missing? ” “Now those are real good questions, Chief. ” Then there was a click, and a moment later he was listening to a dial tone. Miranda stayed in bed for two days. She crawled under the covers after her unsuccessful Nancy Drew imitation and just couldn’t make herself get out. She watched a Brady Bunch marathon, a documentary on sheepdogs and the herding instinct, the movie Titanic, followed by a special on the real-life tragedy, and back-to-back episodes of Sesame Street before she finally turned off the television and simply lay there listening to the phone ring.
Leave It to Cleavage by Wendy Wax