Bedding the Wrong Brother(56)
“What if you don't have to modify it? Can you just train someone who's the right size?”
“I suppose, but who am I going to find now?” He shook his head. “Like I said, we'll figure it—”
“I'm five-four.”
He released her hand. “Huh?”
“I said, I'm five-four. I can…I can stand in for your assistant if that would help. I'm sure I'm heavier than her, though. And I'm absolutely not a performer, but...”
She trailed off. He didn't say anything. He didn't move. He just stared at her, his expression stunned. She could feel herself turning red with embarrassment. “You know, it was a stupid idea—”
“You'd do that for me?” he asked. “Get up in front of a theater of strangers and let me tie you up?”
“Well, I'd rather not think of the strangers right now—”
“What about work? You said you had to get back, and to have a shot of pulling it off, I'd need you right away so we could rehearse.”
“When would you need me by?”
“Tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“So you can drive me home, I'll pack, call into work in the morning, and fly out tomorrow.”
“Why would you do that?”
She moved toward him, not stopping until she was close enough to take his hands and kiss them. “How can you ask me that? I know how much this contract means to you. If I can do anything to help you get it, I will.” She dropped her hands and stepped back. “I feel a little silly, though. I mean, me on stage? If you want to say thank you and forget it, I understand.”
He took her hands again. “Thank you,” he said. “And I think—”
He paused, and she held her breath, waiting for him to reject her.
“I think you'll be perfect on stage.”
All she felt was relief. And joy. “Really?”
“Yes.”
She jumped up and down in her excitement, her insecurity momentarily forgotten. “Okay, then let's do it.”
She broke away from him and rushed to her bedroom to get her suitcase. He turned to get his own stuff, stopping when she called out, “Oh, and Rhys?”
“Yeah?”
“I just want to make something perfectly clear.”
Wariness crossed his face. “What?”
“I'm absolutely not doing anything topless.”
His mouth quirked. “You sure? Because, man, with your body, we would definitely draw in some—”
“Rhys…” she drawled warningly.
“Okay, sure. No going topless. But that only applies on stage, right?”
“You have somewhere else in mind?”
“Oh, I've definitely got several places in mind.”
Her eyes rounded. “As long as we don't have an audience, I think we can make things work.”
“That's fine with me. I do my best work one-on-one, anyway.”
Chapter Twelve
Dalton's Magic Rule #13: Draw out the tension until the big finish.
“Let me get this straight,” Lucy insisted. “He actually got you to do a sixty-nine, and you liked it?”
Melina tossed another shirt into her suitcase before she turned back to her friend. “Yes, Lucy, he did. Y-E-S. And, yes, I did. The answers are the same no matter how many times you ask the questions. Now, can we please talk about more pressing matters? Like how I'm going to get on stage without puking and single-handedly ruining Rhys's shot at this contract?”
From her spot on the bed, Grace fanned herself with both hands. “I don't know, darlin'. After what you described, how can you think of anything other than when you can jump him next?”
“On the other hand,” Lucy interjected, “think about how grateful he's going to be after you help him land that cruise gig. My God, the man will probably do anything you ask him to. A-ny-thing.”
Melina shook her head. “Will you two stop? You should have seen his face when I said I'd help him. He wants that contract—he needs it—and he's relying on me. What if I can't do it? What if I let him down?”
“What if unicorns and flying dragons really do exist?” Lucy shot back. “Why are you focusing on the show and the contract Rhys may or may not get? You had mind-blowing, head-banging sex with your fantasy guy, and he's obviously in love with you.”