Heather Macallister - Undressed

“Well, let’s see. I belong to a hiking club. I’m also a volunteer guide for Rocky Falls Park.”

She’d been expecting him to say he kicked back and took it easy.

“And a couple of years ago, I tried my hand at brewing my own beer. I joined the microbrewers’ co-op. Those are the beers I serve next door. The one with the tuxedo on the label is my recipe.” He smiled. “I’m kinda proud of that. Lean back.”

Stunned, Beth leaned. “Anything else?” There couldn’t be anything else, could there?

“I’ve been known to take off and fish. I also support Prom Pals, the group that provides tuxes to guys who can’t afford to rent them.” William started massaging her foot. “And I’ve attended services at all six churches in Rocky Falls.”

Beth stared at him. “I had no idea.”

“I know.” He stared back as he worked on her foot, flexing it to stretch her Achilles’ tendon.

“Why didn’t you ever mention any of that?”

“You never asked.”

“How was I to know? You should have said something!”

He moved to the other foot. “You’re only interested in William. That’s Bill’s life.”

“You are Bill.”

“Exactly. I am not William. He’s this starchy formal character you created.”

Beth opened and closed her mouth. Clearly, William had issues with their business model. “You want me to call you Bill? Is that it?”

“I want you to think of me as Bill.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Then it’s time I explained it to you.”

“But—”

“Relax,” he murmured, and his fingers began to work their magic.

The tension of the day melted beneath his warm hands. He slowly stroked her ankles and calves before gripping her feet and squeezing all the numb places on her toes.

“Ooooh, you give the best foot rubs.” Closing her eyes, Beth sighed and went limp—for just a moment—against the sofa. “Mmm.” She settled more deeply into the cushions. “That feels soooo goooood.”

He pulled at the end of her hose so her toes could straighten out. “Oh, yes,” she breathed. “Oooooh, yes.”

“You make the sexiest little sounds when I rub your feet,” he said.

Her eyes shot open. “I don’t make sounds!”

“You do.”

Did she? “Well…if I do, they aren’t sexy.”

“Yeah, they are.” His eyes met hers.

Funny how his eyes weren’t as crinkly as she remembered. She waited for him to grin or say something annoying, but his thumbs kept working the aching ball of her foot, a dangerous glint in his blue gaze.

The movement of his hands became more intimate and more caressing and Beth was aware that this was more than just another foot rub.

William—or rather Bill—had rubbed her feet many times before, but he’d never looked at her the way he was looking at her now, and his touch had never felt the way it felt now. Beth was caught in the intensity of his gaze. As his fingers worked the base of each toe, she felt a warmth spreading through her middle.

Uh-oh.

With one look, Bill had made her aware of him as a man. He wasn’t supposed to be a man—he was supposed to be her business partner. It was understood that the man/woman thing wasn’t a part of their agreement. At least, that’s what Beth understood.

Bill? Maybe not.

His blue eyes had gone molten and heavy lidded with desire. Yes, desire. For her. Without saying a word, he was changing their relationship and she didn’t know if she wanted that.

Still he watched her as he massaged her foot and ankle, and moved up her calf, stroking and kneading.

Those hands…the confidence with which he touched her…their strength…the caring…

A tiny sound escaped her. It could possibly be considered a sexy sound, if one wanted to think of it that way. Which she didn’t, but judging from Bill’s flicker of a smile, he did. He had a nice mouth. Why had she never noticed his mouth before? Why had she never noticed him before?

“Come play with me tomorrow.” His voice was deep and husky and vaguely erotic.

She couldn’t just take off. And even if she could, she wasn’t sure it was wise. “I can’t. We’re booked.”

“The weekend. Let’s rent a paddleboat and spend some of this nice spring weather on the lake.”

“Monica Teague is coming in. I should be here.”

“She’s not booked for the whole weekend.”

“Cara Brantley’s bridesmaids can’t come in during work hours.”

“What about Thursday? Friday? We can have lunch in the park.” The man just would not give up.

“The Indian-doctor couple is coming in,” she reminded him. “You have an appointment with Dr. Sharma, remember?”

Instead of backing off, Bill leaned forward until he was inches from her face. “Then you pick a time.” His eyes blazed.

Beth smothered a totally unexpected flare of attraction. “It’s difficult to plan—”

“Pick. A. Time.”

No. She was not aroused by this new forceful William—Bill. She was not that kind of woman. Well, maybe a little bit. Okay, all the signs were there—the heart going bippity-bip, the heated cheeks, the urge to close the distance between his mouth and hers—but she absolutely could not let him know. Because—because she wasn’t ready.

“If we dress the entire Brantley-Varnell bridal party, it’ll be our biggest wedding ever and something to celebrate,” she hedged.

“Good.” Bill leaned back. “I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I’ll let you know—”

“No, Beth Ann.” His smile was an intriguing promise. “I’ll let you know.”

“THE NEW SYSTEM SEEMS to be working. So far, no glitches.”

Lia Wainright smiled in satisfaction at the comment from her boss, Elizabeth Gray, owner of Elizabeth Gray Bridal Salon. Honest to Pete, she’d been trying to get the woman to go electronic for the past two years.

Elizabeth was all about elegance and class and to her, nothing said class like the thick bridal-white paper she and her staff used to write up orders or “record selections.”

Lia got the whole upscale theme. And she agreed that the tone of a bridal salon influenced which designers would allow their gowns to be sold there, but maintaining the appearance of class and sophistication so important to Elizabeth Gray had become problematic. Lia didn’t think the payoff was worth it. The thick paper they used for orders took up a surprising amount of file space. The copier didn’t like thick paper, either. And all the information had to be duplicated onto an order form because the paper was too thick to make multiple copies.

The extra steps had caused errors more than once. Elizabeth caught most of the mistakes because she knew the design and stock number of every dress she carried. They should be doing so much business that Elizabeth couldn’t memorize all the numbers.

Elizabeth felt electronics weren’t elegant. But then Lia had found these beautifully sleek silver and charcoal-gray electronic-input tablets and carefully and painstakingly introduced them to her boss.

Why did it matter to Lia whether or not Elizabeth Gray Bridal Salon went electronic? Because efficiency meant increased stock turnover, which meant more profit, which meant eventually, Elizabeth Gray would need help. Lia’s goal was to provide that help and, ultimately, become a partner.

Elizabeth Gray had the ideal setup here in Rocky Falls, Texas. Lia was that rarest of people—a Rocky Falls native. Her parents owned the Wainright Inn, a local institution that had seen its share of weddings over the years.

Lia liked Rocky Falls, the Hill Country weather, the scenery and the artsy shops catering to weekend tourists. This was where she wanted to live, and she wanted to support herself away from her parents. Working at the Wainright had been great for after school and summers between college, but Lia needed to prove she could develop a business on her own. The salon wasn’t hers, but she’d been Elizabeth’s first employee, and immediately had seen the potential.