"Yeah. Nice touch,” Syd said, stunned. “Milford did a fantastic job of capturing the feel I was looking for. There isn't a bad picture in the bunch,” she said as she flipped through the photos.
And they smoldered, all right. Heck, they were on fire.
"I have to admit the shots with the circular saw are the ones that do it for me,” Terri continued. “Hot, hot, hot!” She fanned herself with her steno pad.
Yeah. Trevor Vanden Bosch was hot all right. Hotter than sin, to be exact. Dammit. He wasn't supposed to be so handsome, so irresistible, so ... sexy. But letting herself think like this was dangerous. Trevor was just another man in her life who had a motive. And she best not forget it. “I guess these will have to do,” Syd said flatly.
"Have to do? You've got to be joking, Syd. These pics are incredible. Every woman in a hundred-mile radius will be calling wanting work done once they see Trevor. You've got to show these on Wake-Up, Omaha. Heck, I think I'll put my name on the list before it gets too long. I could use some shelves put in my hall closet."
Syd considered Terri's idea of showing Trevor's photos on TV and the more she thought about it, the more she liked. All this media attention was bound to help put the pressure on and force him to reveal what he was really doing here.
And the sooner the better—she thought silently as she gazed at his pictures—before she lost her heart for good.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Syd took a deep breath, picked up the phone and dialed Trevor's number with trembling fingers before she could change her mind. With the stage set for the big seduction scene, all she needed now was her dashing co-star.
The phone rang a half-a-dozen times before a husky voice came on the other end of the line. “Hello."
"Trev?"
"Yeah."
"It's Syd. Sorry, did I wake you?"
"Nah. I was just watching Conan O'Brien. I couldn't sleep."
"Good. Well, not that you can't sleep, but I'm glad I didn't wake you. Listen, I need to talk to you and wondered if you'd mind coming down to the office for a few minutes.” The dull buzz of the phone line boomed in her ear as he failed to respond. Her throat tightened, her nerves twinged. He wasn't going to come. He was going to turn her down flat!
"Now?” he said at last.
"Yes. That is, if you don't mind."
"It's almost midnight, Syd. What's up? Is something wrong?"
"I fine. I'm sorry it's so late, but this really can't wait until morning.” Syd hoped she didn't sound as breathless and panicked as she felt.
"Can we discuss it over the phone?"
Drat the man. Why did he have to make this so difficult? Didn't he have any idea how tough this was for her? Besides, any other time he'd jump at the offer she presented him, but tonight, after she finally mustered up the courage to initiate an encounter, he had to be obstinate.
A terrible thought struck her. What if he wasn't alone? What if he was with a woman and they were in the middle of something ... something private? She gasped, nearly choking. Terri rushed to her aid and patted Syd on the back.
"Are you okay, Syd? What's that noise?” Trevor asked.
"Nothing. I'm fine,” she coughed. “I got a tickle in my throat. So can you come? Or are you too busy?"
"Are you sure we can't discuss it on the phone?"
For crying out loud! “Not really. I need to show you something. Get your opinion."
"Do you need some help with advertising, because I think—"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I need. I'm stumped and I've got to get it to the printers tomorrow or it won't be ready in time for the grand opening,” she fibbed.
"Ok. Give me about twenty minutes."
"Great.” They said their goodbyes and she hung up the phone with a major sigh of relief. Her partners-in-crime stared at her, waiting. “He's coming."
"Marvelous.” Casey clapped her hands together. “I'll light these last two candles and then we're out of here. Terri did you remember to turn off the ringers on all the phones and make sure the answering system is functioning?"
"Taken care of. And all the doors will be locked tight. You needn't worry about any interruptions."
"Ugh!” Syd laid her head down on her recently tidied desk. “I don't know about this. What if I screw up or worse yet, chicken out? I'll be even more of a laughingstock than I already am."
Casey and Terri exchanged glances that spoke pure exasperation. “We've been through this a hundred times, Syd,” Casey said. “No one is going to think you're a laughingstock. Geesh! How many more pep talks do you need, anyway? Maybe I should ask around for the name of a good psychiatrist."
Syd plopped back against the cushiness of her office chair and raked her hands through her carefully styled hair. “Just because I don't have a lot of confidence with men, doesn't mean I need to see a shrink. No amount of pep talking could prepare me for this, so I might as well save the hundred bucks an hour fee."
"You look like you could use some help. You're a nervous wreck. You're shaking.” Casey grabbed Syd's shaking hands. “You have to relax."
"Easy for you to say."
"Here, drink this fast,” Terri said as she handed Syd a glass of champagne. “Things won't seem so bad then."
Syd downed the bubbly liquid in three gulps and Terri quickly refilled the glass. “Hey! Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Whatever works,” Terri said. “If you feel relaxed, you'll be able to go with the flow. Let the atmosphere and the champagne carry you away."
"Such words of wisdom. When's the last time you seduced a man, Terri?"
"Well ... ah ... well there was this one time...” Syd and Casey gave their friend a, we know better glare. Terri threw up her hands in surrender. “All right, never! But that's beside the point."
"That's precisely the point. It's harder than you think."
"If you relaxed, it wouldn't be so damn hard!” Terri chided.
"You think it's so easy, then maybe you ought to be the one doing this."
"That's enough, you two. No more squabbling,” Casey ordered. “Syd, you'll be fine. Terri's right. Drink some more champagne. It'll take the edge off.” Casey gathered her purse and car keys. “Now let's go, Terri. I want to be far away from here before Trevor shows up. We don't want him to know we're involved in this."
"Gee, thanks. It's nice to know my two best friends are willing to shoulder the blame when this bombs,” Syd said sarcastically.
"It won't bomb,” Casey said as they headed for the door.
"Wish me luck?” Syd asked. She gave them a weak smile, silently begging them to stay.
"Good luck,” they said in unison.
"Thanks."
"Don't forget to call after it's over,” Casey said. “I don't care what time it is. I want to know every succulent detail."
"Call. Yes, I'll call."
Syd listened to her friends footsteps as they abandoned her on the battle field. Funny, but she never felt this alone before in her entire life.
* * * *
Trevor paced the concrete beside his truck, not certain he had enough guts to go through with this. After getting Syd's call, he'd decided that this would be as good a time as any to tell her the truth. Better to handle nasty messes as soon, and as quickly, as possible, lest he chicken out. And if he chickened out, he'd end up with a wrung neck. Of course, if he chucked the honesty bit, he'd end up with a wrung neck eventually anyway. No matter how he played it, this was a lose-lose situation.
But Milf was right. True love was worth taking a risk for.
Sydnie was worth taking a risk.
Glancing at his watch, Trevor saw that he was five minutes late. She would be waiting for him inside, and if he knew Syd, she'd probably already started to wonder if he was gonna show.
He stepped up onto the sidewalk by the back door, then stopped. The minute he walked through that door, turning back was no longer an option.
Running for the state line sounded like a safe plan right about no
w. He could hang around the river boat casinos for a few days, maybe make a few bucks, and forget all about Smythe, Stardust Lingerie and Syd.
There was only one problem with that scenario. Forgetting about the first two items would be easy—but forgetting about Syd—why he might as well forget to breathe.
And as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to see her again. He wanted to see her sweet smile, touch her silky hair and hear her intoxicating laughter.
He wanted to love her—for the rest of his life.
Dammit. Love wasn't supposed to have anything to do with his mission. Getting Sydnie's ideas for the bra, making Mars happy and keeping his boss happy, were all he needed to concern himself with right now.
"Then why can't you stop thinking about her?” he mumbled. All day long, Milford's words of advice kept drumming through his head like an irritating song, love is worth the risk, love is worth the risk, driving his conscience nearly insane.
A set of headlights beamed bright in the night, then swooped across the darkness as a car turned into a nearby parking lot, reminding Trevor he lurked in the shadows by the backdoor. Time to either go in or get in his truck and drive off before someone saw him and called the cops.
Letting his conscience rule, Trevor unlocked the door and made his way through the now familiar hallway. He reached Syd's office and much to his surprise, found an array of candles burning on the coffee table. The scent of eucalyptus filled the air, and soft jazz music played on the stereo.
A sense of deja vu hit him head-on and a quake in his stomach told him he was in serious trouble here. Should have headed for the state line.
He scanned the room, but flickering shadows from the dozen or so candles made it difficult for him to see much beyond their circle of light.
Syd stepped into the glow of the candlelight and Trevor inhaled as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him. She had something to show him all right, like how fast his body could go from zero to feverish.
The simple navy blue camisole dress she wore was the beginning of a man's sexual fantasy about to come true. The satiny fabric shimmered like sapphires when she moved, highlighting every single curve of her body, and the thin spaghetti straps accentuated her deliciously bare shoulders.
Her red curls tumbled freely about her face, making her look almost wanton in the faint light. His heart rhythm increased as his gaze followed the length of her body down to her long, tan legs and all the way to her painted toenails.
Oh, boy. Serious trouble.
Now what should he do? A low moan escaped his throat as he yearned for things that could never be between them. Under normal circumstances they'd be so right, so perfect for each other. Unfortunately, these weren't normal circumstances.
On the bright side, this could really be his lucky day if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Trevor's common sense yelled otherwise. Syd was known to keep a few tricks of her own up her sleeve and she had an uncanny knack for knowing just the right time to put them to use.
Last time he'd caught her dancing in her skivvies truly by accident. But this ... this was a whole different deal. This love-den she'd created was a deliberate ploy to enslave him.
Sydnie was on the hunt.
And Trevor was her prey.
He should be the happiest man in the world, but she obviously suspected he was up to something, or he wouldn't be standing here, loitering in her doorway.
Not good. Nope. Not good at all.
Well, before she had the chance to blow his mind, then blow the whistle on him, he'd come clean. Trevor took a deep breath and stiffened his resolve, hating like hell what he'd come here to do. He needed to be strong and not think about the scrumptious visions of smooth legs and beautiful breasts she created.
But how the heck did a guy focus on spilling his guts when the woman of his dreams looked like she'd stepped out of the pages of a slick magazine?
Mars was right.
Sydnie was their Venus.
"Hello, Trevor,” she said, her voice low and smooth as fine silk.
"Oh, hi,” he said, embarrassed she'd caught him daydreaming. “Sorry I'm late.” He ventured a few steps into the room, then stopped, afraid to go any farther. The farther into the room he went, the deeper in trouble he knew he was going to get.
"That's okay. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, thanks. I'm fine."
She walked over to where he stood frozen like a block of ice. Teasingly she ran a finger down the length of his arm, sending a rope of heat fusing through his body. “Ah, come on, Trev. You look like you could use something to take the edge off."
How about a tranquilizer? “Yeah. I guess I could."
She presented him with a heart-stopping smile, then walked to the refrigerator. Trevor marveled at the soft sway of her hips as she moved and he enjoyed the view as she bent over to pull a bottle of champagne out of the fridge.
Oh, yeah. Serious, serious trouble.
She grabbed two glasses from the counter and the flutes clinked together like wind chimes as she made her way toward the couch.
"Do you mind?” she asked, handing him the bottle of champagne. “I'm not very good at opening these. They scare me."
"They're not that hard.” Trevor clasped the cool bottle and their fingers touched for a mere second before he jerked away. Allowing any kind of physical contact between them was a major mistake.
And, oh, like drinking champagne with her in a candlelit room with her wearing not much more than a slip, wasn't a major mistake?
He removed the foil and the wire basket from the top of the bottle anyway, instead of running for the door like he ought to. With a push of his thumb, he sent the plastic cork sailing into the air with a loud pop. The cork ricocheted off the ceiling with a thud and landed in the bouquet of exotic flowers.
"Sorry.” He shrugged. “Guess my aim's a little off."
"It's okay,” she said, picking the cork off of a red blossom. “I'm sure these flowers have served their purpose."
Trevor's fingers slipped on the smooth flute as he poured the champagne, nearly dropping the glass, the bottle, and his jaw onto the carpet.
Damn. The gig was up.
"Whoa, easy there, pardner,” Syd said as she caught the bottle before it crashed to the floor. “That stuff is expensive. You seem kind of nervous tonight, Trev. Are you okay?” she asked as she finished pouring the champagne for them. She handed him a glass and her fingers covered his. Much to the discomfort of his overactive libido, she played her bottom lip between her teeth. Trevor nodded and struggled to restrain a rumble of desire deep in his throat. He hoped like heck he could regain some control here. So far he wasn't doing a very good job.
"Are you sure you're okay? Looks to me like you could use a little of that R & R you keep talking about."
"Nah. I'm fine. The bottle was slick and just slipped. Look, Syd,” he said, forging ahead before he lost what nerve he did have left. “I think we should—"
"Have sex,” she finished for him.
Ah, hell. That was the last thing he expected her to say. Why was she doing this to him?
"Ah, well ... Gee.” Trevor downed his champagne in one gulp. Syd stepped closer and the subtle scent of vanilla and honey teased his nose. Ever so slowly, she smoothed her hand in an up and down motion against his chest. Tingles of fire pulsated through him. The smile she bestowed upon him spoke pure eroticism and he read the longing in her eyes that glistened like emeralds.
Time for a reality check, Vanden Bosh. He should go, but his feet failed to budge. The word doomed flashed in his mind like a cheap neon sign.
"You want to have sex as bad as I do, Trev. And don't bother denying it.” She brushed her lips along his jaw and whispered, “your face doesn't lie.” Her hand skimmed over his chest and then down low to the button of his jeans. She paused for a few seconds before continuing on lower until she reached his solidness. He inhaled sharply at the jolting contact. “And neither does your body."
Mercy, she didn't know how right she was. He set down his glass and clasped her creamy shoulders. The urge to pull her snug against him fought with his better judgment. This was wrong. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't make love to her under these circumstances.
He'd lied to her, used her. She deserved better than the likes of him.
Silently, Trevor cursed his boss. Why did Charles Smythe always end up standing between them? He cupped her smooth cheeks between his hands and prayed he could get through this. Make her understand.
James, Sherry - [Studs For Hire 01] Page 14
