She had to get over this feeling, and quick.
FUCK! OLIVER was using the expletive a bit more than normal lately. Mia and her No Dating the Employees policy. It was a stupid excuse she was using. Probably to punish him for the lies. He’d apologized and thought they’d moved on, especially after the most recent bathroom scene. But no, more punishment.
Maybe he deserved it. There was still so much about his life that she didn’t know, and he was a jackass for keeping it hidden. Holy hell if she ever found out. If he thought life was complicated before meeting Mia, it sure as shit hadn’t lessened. He needed to fix it all, and fast. Somehow he’d find a way to make everyone happy. But in the meantime, he was stuck.
Oliver walked into the condo, slamming the door, keys crashing onto the foyer table. He threw his coat on the floor, kicked his shoes into the corner.
“Oh, Ollie, you’re home.” Alexiana came into the living room, just a towel wrapped around her, face flushed.
“What’s with the towel?” It had been a long time since he’d seen her sans makeup, let alone naked.
“I just finished my yoga. I was about to get in the shower.”
“Okay.” He flipped through the mail.
“Wanna join me?”
He looked to her, brow furrowed. They hadn’t had sex in months, and the last time, when she’d supposedly gotten pregnant, had been after a night of drinking with some childhood friends who’d come home for a visit. Alexiana wasn’t a fan of sex. Even when they had it, it was plain missionary—no funny business. Well, except for that drunken night. With her inhibitions down, they’d done a lot of fun stuff. If only she’d let her guard down more, maybe they could have stood a minuscule chance.
No, that was a lie. Because somehow, he still would have met Mia and he’d have known right away that she was meant for him. He knew that more than anything else in his life right now. He just needed to make her believe it, too.
“No. I’m gonna go make a sandwich.”
“Oh. Um . . . okay then.” She backed away. Why was she being so weird?
The shower started and Oliver headed toward the kitchen. Being a model made him hungry. Which seemed like an ironic statement if he’d ever heard one. As he rummaged through the refrigerator, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
He turned and found a young guy, white linen pants and a tank top, heading toward the door. “Hey. Who are you?”
He stopped and faced him. “I’m Chris. Alexiana’s yoga instructor.”
“You do house calls?”
“Yeah. One-on-one sessions in the privacy of your own home.”
“Oh. Okay. Um, thanks. Did she pay you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Great. Have a nice day.” Oliver opened the door for him.
He headed to the bathroom and walked in, room filled with steam. “You do yoga at home? I thought you went to some fancy studio.”
“Why are you in here? Don’t you know it’s completely rude to barge in on someone when they’re in the shower?”
Two minutes ago she’d invited him in the shower with her, and now he couldn’t even be in the room with her? “We’re engaged. That rule doesn’t apply. So why was he here?”
“I switched to private sessions. You know how I am. I can’t be seen in public all sweaty after a yoga class. Eww, gross. Anyway, I mailed the wedding invitations today. Isn’t that exciting?”
“No. Why did you mail them already?” Holy shit. He was supposed to have this taken care of, their relationship ended, before she mailed them. He thought for sure he’d still have time.
“Because we need to know how many people are coming. I have to give a head count two weeks before the wedding.”
“Then why mail them over two months early?”
“You know how people are. It takes them forever to mail back the responses.”
Fuck. This made everything harder. Everyone would know about the wedding, and the eventual cancellation. So much for saving his mother some embarrassment and stress.
CHAPTER Thirteen
I’ve got the pictures,” Mia said as she came into the shop. It had been almost a week since the photo shoot. She’d been waiting for the disc from the photographer, but also for Bryn to get over her virus.
“Ooh! Lemme see!”
Mia slipped the disc into the computer and the women gathered around the screen. The first image was a close-up of Oliver’s face. Mia’s stomach flip-flopped and a tingle flittered through her body and rested in her southern region. She could still feel his hands scorching her skin, his tongue flicking her nipples. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to calm her psychotically beating heart. Bad Mia! No more X-rated thoughts of employees!
“Yumm-o. Me likey.” Bryn’s voice pulled her out of Oliverland as she scrolled through the photos one by one.
“These are really nice,” Penny said. “They’re going to work great with what I have planned for promo.”
“Good. There’s a couple that might be good for the packaging.” Mia pointed to the screen, one of the shots of Logan completely naked. “The text can cover his parts, so he will look completely naked on the box without actually showing the goods.”
“I like that. And these ones in the hot pink undies,” Bryn said and giggled. “I can already picture the banner for the shop. So glad I thought of them.”
“It was hell getting them to pose in a photo together, though.”
“Men and their egos.” Bryn shook her head. “But we’re gonna milk it for all it’s worth. I heard about this thousand-dollar bet they have going. That should make things interesting.”
“We need to talk about this party,” Penny said and pulled out her notepad, covered with scribbles. “I have some ideas, but I need to know what kind of budget we’re working with.”
“Well, there’s not much,” Bryn answered. “I took out the last and final loan I could get. Most went toward the product, but I have about five hundred left. That’s gotta cover promo materials and the party.”
“Oh. I was hoping for that much just for banners and postcards and such.”
“Not happening. I can probably give you half.”
“Okay. I’ll have to scale back the number of posters and make them smaller. Maybe we’ll skip the postcards, too. I have to do the guys’ head shots, though. They need something to autograph during the party.”
“How about we do postcards for that instead of full eight-by-ten glossies?”
“That could work.”
“What else do we need for the party?” Mia asked.
Penny scanned her sheet. “Food, obviously. Drinks. I’d originally planned on champagne or wine, but we’ll have to forget that.”
“Let me check with the bakery down the street. Maybe they can give us a deal on mini cupcakes or something. I don’t want to go crazy.”
The wheels in Bryn’s head were obviously turning. “I can so see hot pink icing with candy penises on top. We can buy candy penises, right?”
“Uh, yeah. I think so.”
“Great. I think that’s all we need. They’ll be here to see the men, and women don’t eat in front of hot guys.”
Bryn had a point.
As the women scrolled through the photos again, writing down the numbers of the ones they liked for promo items, Grant walked in, box in hand.
“Good-bye. Good luck. Good riddance.” He started toward the door.
“Grant, wait,” Bryn raced over to him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m done.”
“Come on. You can’t just walk out on us.”
“I can. I refuse to continue working for people who don’t take me seriously and don’t approach their business professionally. I’m done being your entertainment and on the receiving end of your insults.”
Mia jumped from her seat, panic
filling her. “You know we were just joking with you. Like a little brother. Please stay. We need you.”
“You don’t need me, you need a shrink.”
Mia’s jaw dropped.
“Hey. You can’t talk to her like that. Get out.”
“My pleasure.”
The women watched him leave, silent, until Bryn pointed out the obvious.
“Well, he was a stick-in-the-mud anyway. That guy needs a good fuck.”
“I agree, but what are we going to do? Who’s going to take care of the financial stuff? Oh, God! What about payroll? I don’t know how to work that new software. Do you?”
“Relax. We’ll figure it out. We used to do it ourselves once upon a time. We’ll go back to the old program if we have to. And besides, think of the money we’ll save having one less check to pay out.”
That would be nice.
“I’m sure we can look for someone part time and pay them less. It will all be fine.”
Good thing one of them could stay positive.
HER FIRST day off in over a week, Mia slept until almost noon. The sunny Sunday afternoon begged to be taken advantage of. She threw on a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, not that she had ever done yoga, and her sneakers. She headed to Delaware Park, the biggest in Newford, for a few laps on the path encircling it.
Mia had always loved to run. She’d even done track her senior year of high school. She tried to keep to a routine, but in reality her motivation came in spurts. A few months on, a few months of slacking off. But now that the weather was consistently warm, it was time to get back to it. It had always cleared her mind, helped her focus. And she could definitely use some focus now.
After a few calf stretches, she started a slow jog, weaving in and out of dog walkers and stroller pushers. By the end of the first lap she had graduated to sprinting. She found her stride, zooming around the path, blocking out all sounds, all faces.
“Mia!” A screech in her ear followed by a hand on her arm.
The jolt of it made her wobble a bit, her left foot catching on her right. Oh shit! I’m going down!
He caught her before she face-planted.
“You okay?” Oliver asked, once she was in his arms, stable, still upright, somewhat.
“Uh, yeah. What did you do that for?” She wiggled free of his embrace, needing to distance herself from his skin, the musky smell of him. Did all men smell this good when they sweat?
“I started calling your name a few minutes ago. Took me a couple to catch up to you. You run here often?”
Was this the new pick-up spot? Instead of a bar, it’s the park? “Sometimes.”
“I come every day. During the week before work, but on the weekends, it’s later.”
That explained the boulders for butt cheeks.
“You wanna run together?” he asked.
Probably wasn’t a great idea. But it was just running. An employer and employee could run together, right? “Sure.”
They took off, Oliver keeping pace with Mia. If he ran every day, he could probably run the park twice in the amount of time it took her to circle it once.
“You don’t have to stay with me, you know.”
“I want to.”
The sun glinted off the sweat moistening his upper lip. Since when was sweat sexy? Eyes on the path, not on Oliver.
“You ever go to the art festival in the park?” he asked.
“A few times. I love it, but no one ever wants to go with me. It’s hard for Bryn to bring the kids to something like that, and to my family, ‘art’ means the graffiti on the highway overpass. It’s just another thing I was into and no one else. Not in my uncultured little hometown.”
“Well, you know me now.”
“Office troll by day, art fan by night?”
“Something like that. I used to sketch but gave it up when I had to get serious and study harder. Can’t get your MBA by drawing during your free time.”
“If you enjoy something, you need to make time for it. Especially now, with your career set and all.”
“But I just started a new career. Office troll slash erotic model. I have to say, I have been quite inspired lately. Must be the new job. Or maybe the new people I’ve met.”
“You gotta be talking about Logan.”
They kept on running, but Oliver had turned his head to her, his smile wide. “Yeah, his puka shell necklace really turns me on.”
Mia burst out in a fit of laughter so hard she could barely breathe, and she slowed to a trot. Oliver was next to her, his laughter mirroring hers. He stopped running, doubling over, hands rested on his knees.
“I hate those things,” Mia told him when she managed to recover her breath.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he said, calmed once again. “I went to Cancún for spring break my freshman year of college. Had to have one.”
“You did not!” More giggles.
“The ladies really liked it.”
“Oh, it hurts. My stomach is going to explode.” She breathed deep, trying to control herself.
“Come on. Let’s get some ice cream.”
“Doesn’t that cancel out the run we just took?”
“I guess. But it’s so good. My treat.”
After selecting their frozen concoctions from the cart nearby, they sat on a bench.
“So, an MBA? Parents must be proud.”
“I guess. My father didn’t really give me a choice. It was either that or be the family pariah. He didn’t like the idea of an underachiever for a son, hence the insistence I give up my art classes.”
Huh. Sounded a lot like the Great Antonio Montanari.
“I hear ya. My father has a low tolerance for things he feels are worthless. He hopes my business fails. He thinks I’ll have no choice but to work for him. I’d rather flip hamburgers than sell cars.”
“Wait. Are you one of the Montanaris? The ‘Make It Rain’ people?”
She closed her eyes. “Yes.” Before opening them, she heard the snicker. “Try growing up with that.”
“You win. You had the worse childhood.”
“Thanks for the recognition,” Mia said. “But it sounds like we both had it pretty rough.”
“Us damaged kids gotta stick together.”
The thought of that tickled her insides. And her other parts, too.
MIA SAT at her desk, daydreaming. Her brain kept showing her snippets of her afternoon with Oliver. After the ice cream, they’d made one more lap around the park to work off some of the calories they’d ingested, laughing some more, mostly at Logan’s expense. It had been a long time since Mia had hung out with a guy like that. It felt nice.
He’d invited her to dinner, but she’d declined. No point ruining what they’d shared. It had been a lovely afternoon, two friends/coworkers hanging out. Nothing sexual. Completely appropriate behavior for a boss and her employee.
She’d just ignore the fact that she’d gone home and spent far too long in a steamy bath with the mental image of Oliver’s naked body and the waterproof vibrator she’d taken home from the shop without anyone knowing. She may not be able to date him, and had given up on dating in general, but Bryn had definitely made a good point back in the beginning of this whole venture. Mia was a prime example of a woman who did not want a man in her life, but still desired a certain part of his anatomy.
Penny danced into the shop at noon. “I can’t wait for you to see the promo stuff! I picked it up this morning!”
She hoisted the box onto the front counter and yanked out the postcards.
“Oh, these are nice,” Mia exclaimed. “I love the black-and-white ones.”
“I know. I went with a couple different designs, a black and white and color for each guy. One close-up, and one full body.”
“How many do we have?”
“On
ly fifty of each pose.”
“If we have two hundred women through here on party day, I’ll be ecstatic.”
“I think we’ll have to monitor these babies though. I can see each customer taking one of each.”
“Good point. What else you got?”
Penny pulled out the first banner, an almost life-size photo of Oliver.
Oh my. “That’s . . . um . . . good.”
Mia noticed Penny’s sideways glance. “It’s a whole lot better than good.”
Mia agreed wholeheartedly, but needed to keep her lust under control. “Well, let’s get these up on the wall.”
Penny got to work, hanging a vertical banner on the wall, and a horizontal from the front counter. The door opened and Bryn walked into the shop.
“Holy shit, those men are hot.”
“I know, right?” Penny said, unrolling another poster.
“Miss Mia did a fine job of finding us some sweet pieces of man candy.”
The front door opened and a customer entered, a semiregular who came every few months for a bra fitting and a couple of new items.
“Oh. What have you got going on here?” the middle-aged woman asked.
“We’re branching out,” Bryn said.
This was it. The moment of truth. This would be the first time they shared their crazy idea with a customer, someone who would either cheer them on and support their endeavor, or run for the hills. And Bryn was the one to break the news. She had a way with the ladies who came into the shop.
“We’ve got lots of sexy stuff going on, including some new spokesmodels. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“They are. But what do handsome men have to do with a lingerie store?”
“Well, we’re branching out, hoping to accommodate some of our customers’ other needs. We’re now carrying a line of adult toys,” Bryn said, motioning to the display. “And we’ve even designed our own custom toys, modeled after these amazingly gorgeous men.”
The woman’s eyes widened. The moment of truth. “That’s . . . interesting.”
Was that a good or bad “interesting”?
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