“How is work going?” I asked before starting on my second piece of chicken.
“Ughhhh.” She let out an unintelligible noise as her head fell back. “Not great.”
“Anything I can do to help?” I offered sincerely.
I was here because I couldn’t stay away, but since that was the case, I might as well make myself useful.
Her voice was filled with defeat and resignation as she said, “Not unless you know twelve amazing women that are willing to go on a dating show.”
I didn’t want to sound too confident, but I was sure there had to be women that fit that bill. Hell, if Wishing Well wasn’t such a small town where everyone knew everyone I might be able to cast it in this zip code. “I thought Tad said at lunch that there were thousands of audition tapes.”
Her shoulders slumped. “He did. And the production company already narrowed it down to forty and did background checks. Now all I have to do is pick my final twelve. I’ve seen almost half of the tapes and haven’t found one girl.” She shook her head. “I think maybe I’m too close to it. They just all seem to be the same person. Nothing special is jumping out at me.”
“Do you want a fresh set of eyes?”
“What?” Her brow furrowed in the way that made me want to kiss the small wrinkle that formed above her nose.
“I can take a look at them. Give you a new perspective on things.”
“Seriously?” Hope sparked, lighting up her face. She wiped her mouth with her paper towel and then placed it on her plate.
“Sure.” I nodded as I started to clear the table. I wrapped up the leftovers and carried the dirty dishes to the small sink in the corner of the room.
“Oh my gosh, you have no idea how amazing that would be. Normally casting is one of my favorite parts of any project, but this is the first time that it’s been a show I’ve created, my baby, and I think that I’m too invested, or…something. I’m just not able to look at things objectively.” She turned the computer so that the screen was facing me as I sat back down.
When she hit play a pretty brunette started talking about her type of guy. She said she was looking for a sweet guy that she could grow old with.
“Bullshit.” I commented flatly.
“Bullshit?” Mia repeated, looking confused at my choice of words.
I gestured to the screen. “She’s lying. She likes bad boys.”
“How do you know that?” Mia questioned.
“It’s my sixth sense. I know the type of guys that girls like from looking at them. I’ve always been able to do it. I don’t know how, but I could tell who a girl was showing up at our front door to see before she even asked. Just by looking at her. And that was not as easy as you might think since I have seven brothers.”
Mia’s mouth fell open. “You have seven brothers?”
“Yep. And one sister, Harmony. She’s a pain in my ass, but I love her to death.”
“Nine kids!” Mia exclaimed.
I nodded.
“Wow,” she breathed in awe.
“What about you?” I asked as the video stopped playing. “Is it just you and Libby?”
“Yeah. I always wanted a big family, a bunch of brothers and sisters, but it was just the two of us.”
“So do you want to have a lot of kids?” I knew this wasn’t a real relationship, but I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to know everything about her.
“No.” Her eyes grew large. “I wanted to have a big family when I wasn’t the one responsible for them.”
My heart sank a little bit. I wanted a family. Not a big family, but I did want kids. “So, you don’t want kids?”
“Oh…um…no.” She stuttered. “I mean, yes. I want kids, just not a gaggle of them. I think two or maybe three.”
A wide smile filled my face. “Good.”
She tilted her head to the side and her lips turned up in a slow hesitant smile, “Why is that good?”
“Well, you never know when a fake relationship can turn into a fake marriage and I think it’s good if my potential fake wife and I are on the same page when it comes to how many fake children we’ll have.”
Her head fell back and she laughed and once again I was struck with just how beautiful it was. There were a lot of things that were sexy about Mia James. Her sky-blue eyes that I could easily drown in. Her long blonde hair that looked so soft and silky my hands itched to touch it. Her full, pink lips, especially her slightly plumper bottom lip that drove me crazy with wanting to pull it between my teeth and suck on it. Her world-class ass that could easily bring any man to his knees. Her smile that was as bright and warm as the sun.
But her laugh…that laugh washed over me like a hot shower on a freezing morning. Soothed me like lying in bed and listening to rain. Made me feel alive like racing down a country road or bridge jumping.
Her laugh had to be the sexiest thing that ever existed.
She wiped beneath her eyes and sniffed, her smile still spread from ear to ear. “Well, I’m so glad that our fake lives are on the same fake page.”
“So am I.” As much as I was tempted to explore our fake future further, I knew that she actually did need to get work done. “Okay, let’s see bachelorette number two.”
She moved the mouse and clicked the next thumbnail, and for the next two hours we went through all forty of the videos. We laughed, talked and laughed some more. By the time I said goodbye, Mia’s cast was locked and I was more invested in our fake relationship than I’d ever been in a real one in my life.
Chapter 9
Mia
“As busy as a funeral home fan in July.”
~ Walker Briggs
Today had been one of the most productive days of my life. I had one last email to send to the new PA and my inbox would be gloriously empty. I think I’d inadvertently discovered the secret to success. No sleep. It is amazing how much one can accomplish when they don’t waste six to eight hours unconscious.
Last night, after Travis left, I tried to go to bed but I only tossed and turned. All I could think about was Travis. His smile, or more accurately smiles, plural. He seemed to have an endless arsenal of smiles that were all equally unique and potent. And then there were his eyes. I subscribed to the theory that our eyes are the window to our soul and his honey colored prisms revealed intelligence, wit and charm. His voice. It was deep with just a hint of a southern accent. I could listen to him recite the phone book and not get tired of it. And last but not least, that body. Just thinking of his broad back, his large hands, his bulging biceps and corded forearms sent shivers running up and down my body as I clicked send.
With my mind filled with all things Travis, drifting off to a peaceful sleep was impossible. So instead of driving myself crazy, I gave up and decided to work.
I assumed that I would crash sometime in the afternoon but I hadn’t. Well, actually I had. Around four I was close to falling asleep at my computer, until I got a text from Travis and it was like a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart. He wanted to know when he’d be getting his first PT session. Knowing that I was going to be touching him had hit me like I’d mainlined Red Bull.
Blowing out a breath, I checked the time and saw that I only had about ten minutes before he would be here. He had to work a little late and said he wouldn’t be able to get away until around eight. It was seven fifty two.
As I bit the inside of my cheek, I looked down at my scrubs. I considered changing.
No.
This was what I wore when I gave massages. It was appropriate. Professional.
Travis wasn’t coming over for a date. He was coming by so that I could work on his shoulder. That was it. This was a quid-pro-quo scenario, a tit for tat, a mutually beneficial arrangement, not a romantic rendezvous.
I kept having to remind myself of that fact so that feeling wouldn’t override reality. My body had the wrong idea about what was going on and I kept having to tell myself that the butterflies in my stomach, the tingles racing through me an
d the anticipation flooding my system were wrong.
The problem was, being wrong never felt so right.
A loud knock rattled the thin walls, completely startling me. I jumped about an inch off my chair.
He was here.
My palms dampened on the way to the door and my nerves were doing a river dance in my stomach.
As I reached for the doorknob, my hand trembled. There was nothing I could do about that or the huge smile that was spread on my face as I pulled open the door and breathed, “Hey.”
Travis wore a ball cap, jeans and a white T-shirt and looked even better than I remembered. It was odd that that kept happening. Every time we spent any time apart, I was shocked at how attractive he was when I saw him again. Instead of growing immune to his sex appeal, it was getting stronger.
His smile dropped slightly as he stared at me, silently. His eyes ran up and down and as soon as they reached my face they started to go south once again. A severe bout of self-consciousness rose up me as I glanced down and pulled at the hem of my scrubs and then peered back up at him. My teeth were biting down on the inside of my cheek so hard I was afraid that I was going to draw blood. It was a nervous habit that I thought I’d outgrown.
“Um, do you want to come in?” My voice warbled.
Travis blinked and shook his head slightly. “Yeah, sorry, you just…” He cleared his throat. “You look…”
“Like a hot mess?” I finished with a large dose of self-deprecation as I moved to the side so he could enter.
“You got the hot part right,” he answered back as he stepped inside and paused. He had such a tall frame and broad shoulders that he took up nearly the entire doorway. His golden eyes stared down at me with so much intensity I felt it spread through me like hot chocolate on a snowy day. Raising his hand the back of his knuckles brushed along my chin. His touch was whisper soft and inspired every cell in my body to sing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” He rasped as he continued, “But, damn, if this is what mess looks like, I’m in big trouble.”
My eyes widened and my mind went blank. Travis had a way with words. He flirted effortlessly and I had to remind myself once again that he wasn’t actually my boyfriend. We weren’t even casually dating. But oh, was he a charmer. In fact all of Wishing Well was telling me how “I’d nabbed myself the town charmer.”
Travis’ reputation was the only thing anyone in this town wanted to talk about. At first it had been uncomfortable, since I wasn’t really his girlfriend and I hated lying, I’d done that for years with Tad. But my discomfort dissolved when Tad, Alexandria and I stopped by the Flower Pot because we were going to be shooting a segment there next week. The owner asked if I was the lucky lady Travis had bought the bouquet for. She told me she’d never seen him look so happy. After that I kind of liked everyone bringing him up. All day, every conversation we had with the locals somehow turned to Travis. This seemed to annoy Tad. Which was a bonus.
With Travis so close, smelling so good, and looking at me like he was, it took all of my willpower not to swoon and smother the blaze like a bonfire that was heating up in me. Time to change the subject and focus on why he’d come by.
I clapped my hands together. “You ready to work?”
“Work?” His eyes narrowed as he closed the door behind him. “How much work does getting a massage take?”
My hands were still palm-to-palm from my clap and I rubbed them up and down. “The massage comes after the PT.”
“PT?” he repeated. “Is that why you asked me to send you the notes I had from my doctor?”
“Yep. I needed to know the extent of your injury.” I motioned to the chair that sat in the corner of the room that was filled with several weights, a resistance band and a ball.
“You just happened to have all of that with you?”
“I’m always prepared.” The truth was I used all of those things in my daily workouts.
He crossed his arms. “This is not what I signed up for. The deal was three massages and two dinners. I was promised magic fingers.”
“Are you scared?” I challenged with a smile.
“Sweet, sweet Mia,” He made a tsk, tsk, tsk sound with his tongue and closed the short distance between us, causing me to lift my chin so that I could keep eye contact. Grinning down at me he explained, “That reverse psychology might work on someone that didn’t grow up with six older brothers but you’re going to have to do better than that if you want my cooperation.”
With him being so close, it was difficult to form a coherent thought, much less win a battle of wits. And the thinking I was able to do was telling me to forget the exercises and get right to the part where I got to touch him. But, somewhere in the very back of my mind, my voice of reason piped up. He had a real injury and I had tools that might be able to help him.
Lifting my hand, I wiggled my fingers as I said, “I promise, these magic fingers will be worth the wait.”
His jaw twitched and the look in his eyes grew dark and his grin went from sweet to bad boy. “Well, when you put it like that.”
My cheeks heated. “I didn’t mean…it sounded worse…that’s not how I…”
“Damn.” His eyes softened as his grin widened. “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”
Growing up, I was always called cute and adorable. It had been kind of a pet peeve of mine, because Libby was the “pretty” sister and I was the “cute” sister. So hearing those adjectives usually hit a sore spot with me, but when Travis said them they hit a different spot. One located between my legs.
Travis continued to surprise me. He could make the most innocent comments drip with sexual tension.
It was just so easy to get wrapped up in the things he said and the way he looked at me. It felt personal. But it wasn’t.
Time to get things back on track and not do something that really would be embarrassing, like lifting up on my toes and pressing my lips to his.
From the first moment I saw him across the room at the reception, I’d wanted to kiss him. And since the chaste kiss that he’d planted on my forehead yesterday at lunch, I couldn’t stop fantasizing about what those lips would feel like against my mouth and other parts of my body.
Somehow, I managed to ignore all of that and press on.
“Let’s start with some stretching.” I demonstrated the different positions and holds to warm up his shoulder and he followed along.
For the next thirty minutes I had him doing sets of arm circles, side lateral raises, reverse flies, flying rear deltoid raises, external rotations and other exercises that would strengthen the muscles that surrounded the injury and increase his range of motion.
Once we started, Travis really impressed me. I assumed he’d be one of those guys that would say he was “fine” when I asked what his level of pain and discomfort was. But he didn’t. He used a scale of one to ten and on the third set he admitted he was at a seven on several of the movements. He was focused and cooperative, even promising that he’d do the “homework” that I prescribed for him. It was clear that even though he joked around, teased and flirted, he was very serious about achieving a full recovery, which made me that much more determined to help him do just that.
When he was finishing the final set, my heart began racing like a greyhound on a track at the thought of what was coming next. I didn’t need to be Nostradamus to predict that once I saw Travis with his shirt off, it was going to be a heck of a lot harder to retain a professional demeanor.
Travis let out a loud breath as he rolled his neck from side to side. His naturally olive skin had lost some of its pigment and I knew it was because he was in pain.
“All right, you survived my torture. Now, it’s magic fingers time.” I hoped I came off as casual and my nervous energy wasn’t evident because my next request had me all kinds of anxious. “Lose the shirt and lay on the bed.”
Travis smiled, a wide-open smile as he wagged his brows. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Ha, ha, ha. You’re
a regular comedia—” I went mute when Travis pulled his shirt up and off his body. A lump formed in my throat and my mouth went dry as he placed it over the back of the chair sitting in the corner of the room next to him.
I’d seen my fair share of shirtless men. Working on reality shows lent itself to being in the vicinity of men showing off their upper bodies. Nine times out of ten they were in exceptional shape.
But Travis wasn’t just in shape, he had the kind of physique that should be chiseled in marble for posterity. Without gaining permission from my brain, my eyes traveled along every inch of his newly revealed form. He wasn’t overly-buffed-body-builder muscular, he was lean and strong. His chest was a solid wall of muscle beneath smooth looking skin. His torso was sculpted with abs of rippling dips and valleys, emphasized by his tanned complexion.
There truly was a difference between muscles that were achieved in a gym and ones that were formed from manual labor. Travis had the latter. His body was farm chiseled. He was the perfect all-male specimen. My mind went blank and I forgot my name, where I was, or what I was doing, but I could feel the heat on my cheeks and knew they were most likely betraying me and revealing just how affected I was.
“Enjoying the view?” he repeated the same thing I’d said when I’d caught him checking out my backside.
His reference pulled me back to the here and now and I laughed, feeling immediately at ease. In the short time we’d known each other, I’d noticed that he had a gift for easing tension and making me laugh when I was uncomfortable. Any time I’d felt overwhelmed or unsure of what to say or do, he would say and do just the right thing to make it better.
Since he’d answered me honestly, I figured I should do the same. “Yep. I sure am.”
His eyes sparked with surprise that I’d admitted my ogling. He struck me as the kind of guy that didn’t get surprised easily, he always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone. A swell of pride filled my chest that I’d been able to catch him off guard. I knew it was silly, but I liked the fact that I kept him guessing.
Taming Travis (Wishing Well, Texas Book 4) Page 7
