Sets Appeal. Virginia Taylor

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      Experimentally, she brushed his upper thigh with her knuckles, noting an exciting shape expanding his jeans. “I can’t possibly give you time to change your mind.”

      He picked up her hand and gently took the pad of her forefinger between his lips. “Why hurry? We’re going to be working together,” he said in a relaxed voice.

      “Not often. When your job ends, mine begins. I can’t paint a set before it’s built.”

      He toyed with her fingers.

      She wriggled uncomfortably. “If you’re afraid of awkwardness when we meet again, I’m sure we will hardly ever meet again. I mean…”

      “So, you want to get into bed with someone that you expect to hardly ever meet again?”

      Her insides began to shake. “If you don’t want to, you can say no. I thought… Well, it’s kind of normal, isn’t it, to have an instant physical attraction to someone? Well, it’s not normal for me, but…”

      He leaned back, staring into her eyes. “I didn’t plan on saying no.”

      “Are we arguing about what happens next, or are we agreeing?” She started to chew on her lip and, mindful of looking insecure, stopped.

      He glanced away. “What color are my eyes?”

      “You have light brown hair, so you probably have light eyes.”

      “Your eyes are blue.”

      “You’re looking straight at them now,” she said indignantly.

      “How does that follow? You’re not naturally blond.”

      “I almost am.”

      He laughed.

      Embarrassed, for she had been born blond and had remained that way until about the age of ten, when her hair had turned a pure shade of natural mouse, she said, “Hardly anyone is at my age. If you are only interested in natural blondes, you’re doomed to disappointment.”

      “I didn’t say I was disappointed. My mind was simply trying to connect eye color and hair color.”

      “I can only judge your reaction to me by your, um...” She stopped, knowing she shouldn’t tell a man that from the moment they’d met, his smile had lured her on, way past her normal comfort zone. Most men preferred assured women who knew how to tease.

      “My um?” His expression blanked, and he stood.

      Her stomach dropped to her toes. Being knocked back on her first try at propositioning a man would probably put her off ever trying again. Any other unnatural blonde in a tight red skirt would get the man she wanted…or leave with her dignity intact. She rose to her feet, avoiding his eyes. “So, I’ll say goodnight and thank you for the coffee.”

      He stood. “You read my um right. That’s one of the disadvantages of being male.”

      She nodded, reaching for her handbag. A tall, confident man like him was possibly propositioned twice a day, at least. He could afford to pick and choose. Her breath stopped as she realized what he had implied and, her mouth not quite shut, she lifted her gaze to his.

      “And thank me in the morning,” he murmured as his mouth slowly connected with hers.

      At first stunned, she didn’t respond. Then he settled a palm on the small of her back, drawing her close. Her insides began to hum, and she leaned away to struggle out of her jacket. He helped, tossing the distraction onto the chair with his. She started to work on the button of his jeans, her brain a maze of unfinished thoughts. Unfortunately, in her confusion, she tangled her fingers against his flat belly.

      “I’ll do that,” he said, his eyes glinting with humor. “I think I ought to head for the bathroom for a condom. The bedroom is through there.” He indicated the room in the hallway closest to the front door.

      She glanced at his chin, traced her gaze over his scar, and straightened her shoulders. Then, picking up her jacket and her bag, she went into his bedroom, where after undressing quickly, she arranged herself in his bed. With her arms at her sides, she lay staring at the flaky ceiling, forcing in long, deep breaths. He gave her time enough to ease the nervous flutter in her chest and time enough to justify acting out of character.

      She had never before let anyone think they owed her a favor. A good girl all her life, she had been called prissy and conventional. She’d watched the bad girls grab whatever they wanted while she’d stood back and hoped to be valued for being honest. No more.

      She’d been cheated on, taken advantage of, and left humiliated. If she had any sort of courage, she would stop living for tomorrow and start living for today—tonight. What sort of person had no regrets? Wincing, she glanced at her clothes on the floor. If need be she could make a quick getaway.

      In half an hour, with luck, she would find out if sex with a wildly attractive bad boy would change her attitude. She didn’t care about competing with other more attractive, more confident women, and she didn’t hope for love. One single bout of satisfying sex would do her. Then, she would know she was not as frigid, repressed, and sexless as she had been told.

      Staring at the door, she waited for the big, inscrutable hunk.

      * * * *

      Jay shut the bathroom door behind him. Last year, he had built the set for South Pacific. Although he hadn’t attended any rehearsals of the show, while he had been bumping-in the set, he had heard an actor going over a schmaltzy song about spotting a woman across a crowded room and falling instantly in love.

      Jay hadn’t fallen instantly in love with Vix Tremain, but lust had featured strongly. Spotting the blonde, he had pushed through the usual crowd to introduce himself to a sleek beauty who seemed genuinely glad to talk him. Normally a woman with skin as smooth as rich cream and a long-legged, toned body would act like a show pony, but she had a rare natural charm. She also showed a clear interest in him, demonstrated by the odd self-conscious gesture, like touching her hair and moistening her lips. Every move of hers reflected his purely animal attraction. He’d thought the last theater set he ever meant to construct would easily be his most interesting.

      Set painters could be anyone—male or female, old or young, ultra-serious, control freaks, or dreadlocked posers. Not often did he get assigned to a beautiful woman who looked as interested in messing around as he was. He didn’t have the time for a relationship, but he could fit in a casual affair that lasted the length of the production, and he could certainly handle one with a golden man-toy. He’d been blatant about his attraction to her, and he’d intimated that a sweaty night would be had by all if she accompanied him home.

      The dazzling smile she gave him in response hit him like a punch to the head. He’d seen that smile before. Only last year, when skimming the newspaper, he’d noted a photograph of the Nolans, plain, plump Victoria with her incredible smile and her older husband, Timothy, architect and millionaire entrepreneur.

      Jay ran his fingers over the scar on his cheek, a memento from her husband.

      For at least a year, he’d thought about revenge on Timmy-boy. Although Jay was visibly scarred, he’d never been handsome. Nor did he make his living out of his looks. Bygones had СКАЧАТЬ