She touched her chest. "I'm Wynter, the photographer. We're shooting a few pictures for Angela's online shop."
"I'm Hudson Sterling, the guy who's fixing the water damage. I just wanted to check on things."
Wynter waved a hand toward the back. "Angela's in the dressing room changing, but you can access the break room and bathroom. We'll be done in here soon."
"If you don't mind, I'll just take a quick look around." I moved around the room, crouching down to check the wood planks.
"Suit yourself." Wynter turned her attention to her camera.
"What do you think about this one?" Angela asked.
I looked up from where I knelt on the floor to see her bare legs; Angela was wearing a red bustier of some sort. I had no idea what the name for something like that was, but the bottom was like a bathing suit, cut high on her hips, the lace tight around her waist. It had satin ties that pushed up her breasts to the point I was worried they'd spill out. My mouth was suddenly very dry, and the blood quickly drained from my brain.
Wynter set her camera aside and moved toward Angela. "I think we need to contain the girls. This is a classy photo shoot."
Angela rolled her eyes. "Not like the ones you do in the backroom?"
Wynter laughed. "I wouldn't call it the backroom. I do sexy photo shoots in my studio, but it's all tasteful. Usually women who want to gift their husbands with the perfect picture on their anniversary or birthday."
I sat back on my heels, making the plank under my boots creak.
Angela's gaze darted to me, and her face flushed pink. "Hudson? What are you doing here?"
"I was inspecting the damage from the flood." I gestured at the floor as the color in her cheeks deepened.
"I thought you were inspecting the other businesses this week." Her voice was breathless.
"I need to check on the progress here from time to time." I stood, wondering if I should leave.
Wynter looked from Angela to me with an amused expression on her face.
"I can come back another time, you know, when you're not busy." And practically naked. Why did I think I could ignore the temptation? I should have looked away, but it was impossible. The red complimented her skin tone, and the cut made her legslook a mile long, and her breasts? They were a treat I wanted to taste.
I had no business thinking about Angela this way, but I couldn't draw a deep breath. It was like all the air had been sucked out of me.
Wynter gestured for Angela to sit on the velvet chaise. "You're welcome to check out the back while I take a few shots. Just warn me when you're ready to leave, and I'll let you know when we're taking a break."
"If you're sure?" I asked, taking a step back, still not sure whether I should escape out the front door or hide in the break room.
Angela sat gingerly on the lounge, stretching one leg out and delicately bending the second. Wynter guided her arms to the back of the chair so that her back was arched, emphasizing the globes of her breasts.
Was that top going to contain her breasts? The thought of seeing her nipples kept me frozen in place. But I wasn't going to be able to hide the inevitable erection if I stuck around.
"I'll be in the back if you need me," I managed to choke out, then turned and fled the space which had grown unbearably warm.
There was a roaring in my ears, and I felt like I'd run several miles at a sprint. No one warned me how difficult it would be to work with a woman who wore lingerie more often than not.
Did she wear that kind of thing when she was alone in her bedroom? Did seeing herself in an outfit like that make her want to touch herself?
I really hoped that was true. The thought of her fingers slipping beneath the lace and between her folds made it impossible to think of anything else.
That made me wonder if she was wet just from being on display, from me watching her from a distance.
I tried to focus on the room. Wobbly table. Two metal folding chairs. Chipped blue countertops. Minifridge that had seen better days. And a hole in the wall. The hole in the wall that was my responsibility. The reason I was here.
Today, I was going to rip out the shag carpet. The olive-green color was offensive on a good day, but with the smell of mildew, we needed to get rid of it sooner rather than later. And hopefully, the act of ripping it out would rid my brain of Angela spread out on the chaise. I couldn't imagine why anyone installed carpet in a kitchen.
I took out my frustration on the carpet, pulling it out with the sheer force of my will. I wished I could clear my brain as easily as this room. It was satisfying ripping up the old floor. But I was dismayed to find linoleum underneath.
