by Tawna Fenske
“Thank you.”
Ty took a few deep breaths and thought about football, grilling techniques for cheeseburgers, and whether he needed to do laundry. Anything but the image of Ellie with her hand sliding up her thighs and under her dress and—
“Shoot!”
Her tame expletive was tinged with frustration, and there was a clatter behind him as something hit the floor.
“You okay?” he asked in a voice that didn’t quite sound like his own.
“I dropped the thingy,” she said. “The box that you’d hooked to the back of my dress? I’m sorry. It just came off.”
“No problem. Is it safe to turn around?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“No worries.” Ty turned back around, relieved to see her dress in place and the mike pack all in one piece. “My fault,” he assured her. “I knew that fabric was probably too slippery. Let’s try something else.”
He stepped toward her again, inspecting the dress—not her body, dammit—as closely as he dared. Those cutouts at the waistline were sexy as hell, but not sturdy enough to hold the weight of the mike pack. “Okay, what if you hooked it to your, uh…your…”
He froze, not wanting to make this more awkward than it already was.
Ellie frowned, uncomprehending. “My what?”
“Your, um…”
A small smile flickered in her eyes. “Is this like charades with body parts and articles of clothing?”
There was a teasing note in her voice, and Ty reminded himself which business she was in. It wasn’t like he was going to offend her.
“Your underwear,” he said. “Panties.”
Ellie laughed. “Yeah, one problem with that.”
“What?”
“I’m wearing a super-tiny thong. More of a G-string, I guess.”
Holy mother of—
“Okay, then.” Ty cleared his throat, grateful he couldn’t see the expression on his face.
But Ellie saw it, and it made her laugh again. “I wasn’t trying to be sexy or anything,” she said. “These cutouts dip too low on the sides, so regular panties wouldn’t work. And the lace is pretty flimsy, so I don’t think—”
“Okay!” Ty said again, a little too loudly this time. His brain was buzzing, and he definitely needed to turn up the air conditioning, or maybe just stop thinking about Ellie Sanders’s underwear. “Let’s try something else.”
“What if I just held the box thingy in my hand while I talk?”
Ty shook his head. “It tends to inhibit people’s ability to be expressive. To use their hands when they talk. Besides, won’t you need your hands to show some of the merchandise?”
“Good point.” Ellie frowned. “How about my bra?”
“Great idea! That’s probably sturdier.”
Ellie gave him a wry look. “I don’t know about that. I’m not exactly big enough to require any heavy-duty support. But at least that should be more secure. You want the mike thingy hooked in back, right?”
“Right. That’s definitely best.”
“Okay, then I’m going to need your help.”
Ty swallowed hard and stood rooted to the floor. “How do you mean?”
“Well, without taking my dress off, I can’t quite get to my bra clasp to hook something on it. Besides, I’m not sure my arms will even bend like that.”
“Of course, you’re right.” He needed water, either to drink or to dump over his head. Maybe both. “Okay, let me think for a second.”
There was no zipper up the back, so maybe it just pulled on? “Um, does this thing have a zipper?”
“Yes, it’s up the side. Want me to undo it?”
Oh, God.
She gave an embarrassed little smile and touched his arm, sending electric currents pulsing all the way to his groin.
“It’s fine, Ty,” she said. “I think modesty is sort of a moot point by now, don’t you?”
Before he could say anything, she was reaching under her right arm and tugging the zipper down. Sheer, cream-colored lace appeared where the pale blue fabric parted, and Ty caught a glimpse of smooth satin that curved over her breast. He started to glance away then realized there was no possible way to do this without looking.
“There,” she said. “Is that enough, or should I go more?”
“I think that’ll do it.” His voice came out like a croak, and he wanted to punch himself in the face. Instead, he stepped closer and took the mike pack from her, grateful his hands seemed steady. He hesitated then reached for the opening in her dress.
“Oh, good—your hands aren’t cold.” She turned and grinned at him.
“Cold? It’s like three million degrees in here.”
“Really? I’m kind of chilly.”
Ty didn’t mean to let his gaze drop to the front of her dress, but oh-sweet-lord, she was definitely cold. He glanced away fast.
“Would you mind if I tugged this zipper down just another inch or so?”
“Go right ahead,” she said. “Here, I can help—”
She turned to reach under her arm, and the movement pushed her breast right into the back of his hand. Soft. So fucking soft Ty could scarcely breathe, but he ordered himself to stay conscious as she inched the zipper down farther.
“There,” she said. “Let me know if you need more.”
Oh, he needed more, that was for damn sure. God. The fact that she was sexy as hell was bad enough. But her sweetness, her charm, her openness about sexuality—how did all those mismatched things fit so perfectly into one beautiful package?
Ty swallowed and tried to gain control of himself.
“Okay, I’m just going to reach into the back of your dress,” he said. “Let me know if I pinch you or anything.”
“You’re doing great.”
Now she was reassuring him?
Some professional he was.
Ty slid his hand around her back, his fingers grazing the narrow ridge of her shoulder blade as he skimmed over her bra strap and found the clasp in the center of her spine. Her skin was unbearably soft, and so warm. He hoped to God his fingers still worked as he fumbled the mike clip open and hooked it to the bra.
“There!” he announced a little too enthusiastically. “Okay, I’m going to leave the rest to you.” He drew his hand out of her dress, taking the wire and the mike with it. He handed both to her. “You can either thread this around the side under your…um…”
“Breast?”
“Right. Or you can go over your shoulder. I think going under would be less restrictive to your movement, but it’s up to you.”
“I’ve got this,” she said.
Before Ty averted his gaze, she’d pulled her dress open farther, exposing the side of her breast. It was cupped in lace and satin and quite possibly the most beautiful body part Ty had ever seen in his life.
And that is not an exaggeration.
Ellie caught his eye and gave an apologetic shrug. “I’d be showing more flesh in a bikini on a beach,” she said. “We’re both adults here.”
“Right,” Ty croaked. “That we are.”
Ty found it impossible to look away as she snaked the wire under her bra then reached into her dress, between her breasts, and threaded the mike out through the neckline. Holding it up triumphantly, she grinned at him.
“There. That wasn’t so hard.”
Oh, yes. Yes, it was.
…
Truth. Ellie wanted Ty to notice the dress she’d splurged on.
But she’d never imagined he’d have his hands inside it, or that he’d end up accidentally cupping her breast.
Bonus.
Her lower regions warmed. It had been a while since anything like that had happened, and this was so not the time.
“What are all these lights for?” She glanced up at bulbs, trying to focus on something besides Ty. Spots danced in front of her eyes, and she blinked to clear her vision.
“They ensure the picture is crystal clear and we don’t have any weird colors or
shadows on your face,” he said. “It’s important to get the lighting just right for your size and shape and skin tone and what you’re wearing.”
“It’s okay,” Ellie said, and it really was. She was in no hurry for him to turn on the cameras.
Ugh. A queasy ick spread through her middle.
Ever since the third grade, when she forgot her lines in the school production of Hansel and Gretel, doing anything for an audience put her nerves on edge. That’s one reason she found Madame Butterfly so fun. She sat behind a computer screen and interacted with people virtually.
But if she wanted to grow the business, this was necessary. The party the other night had been a success, but video seemed like the right next move. And it was generous of Ty to offer his help.
He was bent down adjusting a cable, which gave her a prime view. He had an amazing ass, well-muscled and perfectly curved in jeans. It was the sort of butt a woman might dig her claws into as he drove into her with—
“How does that feel?”
Ellie blinked. “What?”
“Is that too hot with all the lights on?”
“No. I’m okay.”
“You look a little flushed.”
“I’m good.”
Nice, Ellie. If you can’t construct a sentence of more than three words, this video thing is going to go great.
She crossed and uncrossed her legs. Her hands shook, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.
“We’re almost ready,” he said. “How about you say a few words for sound check.”
“Words?” she repeated like an idiot. Where are my words?
Ass. Eyes. Arms. Chest.
No. Don’t say those words.
“How about introducing yourself,” he suggested.
“Okay.” She bit her lip. “Hi, I’m Shelly Anders and—”
Crap, that wasn’t her name.
Ty looked at her like she had three heads.
“Oh, you wanted words that made sense?” She managed a weak little smile, then licked her lips and tried again. “Hi, I’m Ellie Sanders.” Her voice wobbled a little on the last syllable, and she had no clue what to say next. “Um—I like carrots, thunderstorms, and the smell of bark dust.”
Dear God, she sounded like a contestant on a bad dating show. The lights blazed around her, but she was chilled to the bone.
Ty grinned, glancing away once to adjust something on the camera.
“Tell me the name of your company,” he said.
“Madame Butterfly.”
Yay! I got one right.
“And what do they sell?” he prompted. Then he gave her a small smile. “Besides bowling balls, I mean.”
Ellie laughed. Well, she tried. She choked on her own spit.
Ty whacked her on the back, careful not to hit the mike thingy. “Are you okay?”
Ellie nodded and sputtered. She was the worst on-camera client in the history of all time. Ty moved his hand from her back and seemed to hesitate there for a moment. Probably thinking about suggesting a nice brochure or e-newsletter. Anything that didn’t involve Ellie being in front of a camera.
He turned and grabbed a high-backed barstool identical to the one Ellie was sitting on. He dragged it over so he was sitting beside her. When he spoke, his voice was low and soothing.
“I can tell the camera is making you nervous,” he said.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “You think?”
“I get it,” he said. “I’m prone to stage fright, too. I hate talking in front of crowds. Or doing any kind of public presentation.”
The confession put her at ease a little. Ellie took a few deep breaths, hoping to make the dizziness go away. “I’m sorry. I feel dumb.”
“Don’t. We just need to make you more comfortable.” He smiled and scooted a little closer. Their knees almost touched. “How about we try this. I’m just going to sit right here, and we’re going to chat like normal people.”
“You mean normal people who don’t forget their own names and choke on saliva?”
“Something like that.”
Ellie spit a hunk of hair out of her mouth and glanced at the camera again. “I’m horrible at this.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Really?”
He paused for a moment, and Ellie figured he was rethinking his assertion. “I didn’t start out in marketing,” he said. “I was a mass communications specialist making videos in the Navy.”
“I didn’t know the Navy had videos.”
“Yeah, training stuff, documentation, that sort of thing. Anyway, I had to interview this vice-admiral once for a piece we were doing on tactical operations.” His voice was low and soothing, and Ellie leaned into it. “Admiral Branson insisted on standing, even though the angle we’d set up had him sitting on a bench. And anytime one of us would open our mouths to offer any kind of feedback, he’d bark at us to stay quiet unless he told us it was okay to speak.”
“Sounds like kind of a jerk.” Ellie’s shoulders started to relax, and she leaned back a little in her chair, eager to hear the rest of his story.
“Yeah, the military’s full of guys like that.” Ty smiled. “A few seconds after the camera starts rolling, I notice the guy’s fly is down. Not just a little, either. Like gaping open, showing off his tighty-whiteys. I raise my hand and say, ‘Pardon me, sir—’ That’s all I managed to get out before he barked at me to ‘Shut it, son!’ Told me if he heard another word out of me, he’d have me written up.”
“What did you do?”
Ty shrugged. “What could I do? I tried giving him the universal, ‘barn door’s open’ signal, but he was staring straight ahead and into the camera. When he finished up, I tried to tell him about his wardrobe malfunction. I was going to give him the chance to reshoot.”
“Was he embarrassed?” Ellie crossed her legs, so engrossed in the story she’d nearly forgotten the spotlights and camera.
“He never let me get the words out,” Ty said. “Just barked, ‘Out of my way!’ and marched out of the room.”
“Jeez,” Ellie said. “So did you have to scrap the footage?”
“Nah, I got creative. Put a graphic with his name and rank over his crotch and made it look like we’d planned it that way all along. The guy never knew.”
“That’s so sweet.” Something about the story was weirdly touching. How many guys would have seized the chance to let the guy make an ass of himself after he’d been such a jerk to start with?
But not Ty. Ty had shown the guy respect, even when he hadn’t shown him any.
He seemed to read her thoughts. “I believe in karma,” he said. “If you take the chance to be a jerk to someone, someone’s bound to do the same to you. Stop the flow of assholery and respond with kindness instead, and you’ll eventually get the same in return.”
“Wow,” she said. “That’s a great theory. I kind of wish my ex subscribed to it.”
Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that. Badmouthing the father of her child was never a good idea, no matter who she was talking to, but it was especially dumb in front of the guy she was assessing for fling potential.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be one of those bitter divorced women. I take great pains to never say anything negative to Henry about his father. I’ve just…it’s been a rough week.”
Ty studied her face for a moment without saying anything. Ellie fought the urge to look away, focusing on his eyes instead. He had beautiful eyes. The first time they’d met, she’d mistaken them for coal black, but they were actually more of a mahogany, like coffee beans or tanned leather or her mother’s walnut cookies.
“Want to talk about it?” Ty murmured.
She’d forgotten what they were discussing. Cookies? No, her asshole ex. Ellie shook her head, annoyed with herself for bringing it up. “Not really,” she said. “Just a conflict about child support. As in, he’d prefer not to pay any.”
Ty’s expression clouded. Those dark eyes turned molten, and his hands c
lench into fists.
“Corn-sucking ass badger,” he muttered. “I fucking hate guys like that.”
Ellie blinked. “Um, yeah. I see that.”
Ty waved a hand. “Sorry, that’s sort of a sore spot for me.”
“You have kids?”
“No.”
His voice was flat. She needed to change the subject, but she had no idea what to say.
“I had an asshole dad of my own,” he said. “I get pissed when I hear about guys abandoning their kids. It’s like—Jesus. They have no idea what that does to a kid to be left like that.”
Ellie looked at him, touched that he’d share such a personal detail. Something about the timbre of his voice, the darkness in his eyes, told her he didn’t do that often. “I’ve tried to minimize the impact on Henry,” she said softly. “Having his dad leave, I mean.”
“Good,” Ty said. “You sound like a great mother.”
He watched her a moment, then leaned back a little, almost like he was trying to put some space between them.
“Anyway, sorry about the cursing,” he said. “Hearing about fathers like that brings out the jerk in me.” He gave a brittle laugh. “Or maybe that’s the DNA. Jerk behavior is pre-ordained.”
Ellie cocked her head to the side, intrigued by that line of thinking. “You mean you believe people are destined to morph into their parents?”
Ty looked at her for a long time. Ellie held her breath and wondered how they’d gone off on this tangent. They were supposed to be making sex toy videos, not discussing weighty subjects like divorce and DNA.
But he’d been trying to put her at ease, and this was helping. Strange as it seemed, sitting here chatting with Ty under the bright studio lights was almost natural. Nice, even.
“Let me ask you something,” he said at last. “What’s your kid’s favorite lunch?”
The question startled her, and it took Ellie a second to answer. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” she said. “Only, I take the bread and flatten it with a rolling pin, and then I cover it with peanut butter and jelly and sometimes thin slices of banana, if I have it. Then I roll it up like a jelly roll and tuck it in one of those snack bags for his lunch. He loves it.”
Ty smiled, and there was something wistful in his eyes. “I was right,” he said. “You are a great mom. Where’d you learn to do that?”