Quit staring at her like a creep, Si.
I can hear her unzipping the dress and sliding it off her body. Which, of course, makes me conjure up all kinds of images I shouldn’t.
“How about trying on the gold-skirt-and-purple-blouse combo?” I say absentmindedly as I pace the corridor.
“Okay!” she hollers back a few beats later.
I yank the curtain open, ready to force my eyes to evaluate the clothes, not the woman wearing them.
Except, there are no clothes.
Betsy yelps something unintelligible.
Okay, well, there aresomeclothes. Namely a bra-and-panty set that should be illegal in all fifty states, especially the Bible Belt ones. Betsy is standing there with her back to me, only a black lace thong and bra on. I can see the lovely curve of her ass and also the front of her reflected in the mirror. God almighty, her puckered nipples are clear as day through that thin lace.
Betsy ducks to cover herself, realizes there’s too much ground to cover with two small hands, and hollers at me instead.
“Oh my God, get out, Silas Grey!”
I slam my eyes shut—way, way too late—spin on my heel and dart away. Straight into the wall. I ricochet off and right myself, frozen like a deer in headlights as I wait for the dizziness to stop.
“I’m sorry,” I wheeze, breath knocked out of me.
By the wall. Not seeing Betsy practically naked.
My brain is busy holding on to the image while every other part of my body is tingling with adrenaline. Goddamn, I can’t betinglingover my employee.
Oh, I’ve stepped in it now. We were just starting to get along, moving in the same direction to save this boutique, and now I had to ruin it all. She’s going to quit on me, and I wouldn’t blame her one little bit.
“Why’d you do that?” she yelps through the curtain.
“You said okay!” I holler back indignantly, peeking through my fingers, relieved—and disappointed—to find the curtain closed and Betsy nowhere to be seen.
“Okay, as in, sure, I’ll put the skirt and blouse on, you big dummy!”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, pretty sure I might be repeating that apology ’til the end of time. “I really thought you meant you were ready to show me.”
She whips open the curtain and I flinch. I don’t cover my eyes though. What? I’m a perfectly normal male, okay?
Betsy is dressed this time, hands on hips, face tomato red. I look her up and down, unable to wipe the image from my brain. What Betsy lacks up top, she makes up for down below. I’ve never been a boob guy, personally. But a nice ass to grab on to when you slide your arms around a woman and kiss her? Yes, please, sign me up.
“Looks great. Perfection.” And I mean it. All those baggy jeans and layered skirts are doing Betsy’s backside a disservice. She should wear pencil skirts, bodycons, and leggings only.
“My eyes are up here, frat boy.”
Guiltily, I raise my gaze from her curves to her face. She’s got one eyebrow lifted in that way all women do when they’re about to unleash the kind of argument there’s no chance of you winning.
I’m not an asshole though. Normally I’m very gentlemanly, and I’m both embarrassed and discombobulated from the whole thing. I put my hands on top of her shoulders and peer into her face. I feel like it’s a miracle when she doesn’t flinch away.
“Betsy. I’m so sorry. I would never have done that on purpose. I sincerely apologize for making you uncomfortable.”
She opens her mouth, and I brace for the tongue-lashing.
“Well, it’s only fair to see you in your underwear now.”
I blink, stunned stupid. Just when I think I have this woman figured out, she zigs when I’d stake my life on her zagging. But honestly, it’s a brilliant idea. We’d both be embarrassed. Both exposed to the other. Even Steven.
My hands slide off her shoulders and I’m pulling my polo out of the waistband of my khaki shorts. It’s over my head andhitting the floor before Betsy can bark out a shocked laugh, her hands landing on my forearms.
