Don't Tempt Me...

“I don’t know that I like the idea of Mona making me forget my name or where I am,” he mused.

“Why not? Haven’t you ever been swept away?” she asked.

“Not on a massage table,” he said in a tone that made her heart pound.

“I know what you mean,” she said, though she really didn’t. She’d never been that lost in a physical moment. She wanted to be. With Rick. Forgetting everything but him and what he was doing to her. Rick, Rick, oh, Rick.

She sighed, then realized they were standing outside Valerie’s display windows, which held the naked mannequins she’d agreed to dress.

“Venus in a C-cup, huh?” Rick said, reading the shop name from above the nude figures. “This whole place is something else.” He shook his head, as if mystified by it all. Again she had to wonder why he’d wanted this job.

The atmosphere was so not Rick.

For a moment they stood side by side staring at the naked women with their plaster hips thrust provocatively forward, fingers extended, inviting, teasing. In her mind, she saw Rick staring at her instead of them, sliding his hot, green gaze over every trembling inch of her naked and needy body.

“I’d ask what you’re thinking, but I bet I’m better off not knowing,” he said, his low tone vibrating through her.

She turned to him. I’m thinking, you…me…naked…now.

But she was spared that bold response or a clever retort when Val burst out the door of the shop. “Thank God you’re here! My inventory finally arrived.” She stopped short at Rick.

“Meet my new assistant, Rick West. Rick, Valerie Sumner. He’ll be helping you with any tenant issues. We’re heading over to the salon right now to—”

“Terrific. You can both help. The shipment barely got here and I cannot under any circumstances miss Lindsay’s twirling tournament. Plus, you have the windows to do, Sammi.” She nodded at the displays.

Samantha looked from her frantic friend to Rick to her watch. It was already four. “You don’t need to stay, Rick. Blythe’s plumbing can wait for tomorrow.”

“I’m happy to help,” he said.

“That’s excellent,” Valerie said. “Come on.”

They followed her through the shop to the back room where men were adding a pallet of goods to the towers of boxes and crates that jammed the space.

Val named the items in each column and then indicated where in the store they belonged. “Lingerie sets there. Garters and stockings on hooks on the walls. Single thongs and panties in rows on that counter, folded. Expensive vibrators in the display case. Edible underwear, oils and genital jewels on the counter.”

Genital jewels? She and Rick exchanged startled looks.

“I’ll finish checking the order, bring out the boxes and handle the inside table displays,” Val finished. “Holler if you have questions.” She was already heading for the back room.

“Do you have questions?” Samantha asked Rick, opening a box and lifting out a red nylon bra with the nipple area cut out. She held it by its straps.

“Just one. How do you stand these things?” He held the matching thong by its thinnest strap.

“You get used to it,” she said, going for breezy, feeling hot and excited and very nervous. She’d only begun wearing thongs in the last few months.

“Looks like a match,” he said, dangling the panties below the bra, which she realized she held in front of her own breasts. “Very nice,” he added softly.

“Cut it out,” she said, fighting the warmth of his words. Heavens to horny, she had to get a grip. She thrust a two-part hanger at his chest and gave him the sexy bra. “Clip them together and hang them here.” She brushed a hanger on the circular chrome rack, setting them all to clanging.

“You’re the boss.” He grinned.

They set to work and she decided chitchat would keep her from lapsing into any more fantasies. “So, you were in the army? Did you like it?” she asked him.

“Huh? The army? Yeah, sure.”

Sounded like mixed feelings to her. “I imagine the discipline would be difficult.”

“It was good for me. Made up for my misspent youth.” He smiled.

“You were wild in high school?”

“No more than most, I guess. How about you?”

“I was your standard Goody Two-shoes. I lived in a little town with little ideas and parents who fit right in.”

“Small towns can be nice.”

“Not to me. I couldn’t wait for college.”

“To go wild?”

“Exactly.” But she laughed. “Only it didn’t work that way. I met a guy and before long you’d never know I’d left Copper Corners. All we did was study and watch TV.” Spending time with Barry had been no more exciting than League Night at the Copper Corners Bowl-A-Rama, but she’d let herself get sucked into living life his way for too long.

“No more, though,” she said. “I’m not letting life trickle through my fingers. I intend to splash around, make big, messy waves that practically drown me.”

She realized Rick was watching her closely. Almost as if he were taking mental notes on her. Unnerving. And flattering, too. “What kind of waves are you interested in making?” he asked.

Sexy waves that peaked and crashed and climaxed, of course, but she couldn’t say that. “With my work, for one thing. And my personal life, too.”

“If your personal life’s anything like your work…wow.” His moss-green eyes heated to a sparkling emerald. He was hinting, but she couldn’t quite read his intentions.

How should she respond? Yeah, baby, I wear out my men like paper plates. Wanna be next? But that was way over the falls.

“Yeah. Well…these things take time. I only started taking boudoir shots six months ago.”

“Sure.” He paused, taking in her answer. “So how’d you get into that?”

She was relieved he was going with chitchat. “Boudoir work? Or photography? I always loved taking pictures. Begged for a thirty-five-millimeter for Christmas when I was seven and after that spent all my allowance on film and developing. Puzzled the hell out of my parents.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“They thought getting in people’s faces was too pushy. When I won awards in high school, they were impressed, but bewildered.” It had broken her heart that they were so lukewarm about her passion. “How about you? How’d you get started?”

“I was young, too. When my pop would go hunting, I’d tag along to shoot pictures. He thought it was peculiar, but he liked the company when my older brother was too busy.” He was quiet for a minute and crushed the boxes he’d emptied, sending his wintry scent to her on a puff of air.

“So when did you go professional?” she asked, hanging up a black satin underwear set.

“I fell into it. Needed money, saw an ad in a magazine. Put myself out there and assignments came my way. How about you?”