Undressed. Heather Macallister
of his mouth tilted upward. “I always do.”
Now how could she stay angry at him?
William patted the sofa. “Come have a seat, Beth Ann.”
“Elizabeth,” she corrected automatically. “And I’d better not.”
He regarded her a moment before standing. “You’ll always be Beth Ann to me.”
Thinking he was on his way back to Tuxedo Park, Beth started to enter Cara’s dress information into the new handheld computerized ordering units. But William took her by the shoulders and propelled her to the sofa.
“William, I’ve got work to do,” she protested.
“Time for a break.” He pushed at her shoulders until she gave in and sat down.
Oh, that felt good.
“Put your feet up.”
Beth shook her head as he sat next to her. “It’s late.”
But when he reached for her feet and propped them on his lap, she surrendered. Weak, that’s what she was.
Easing off one of her black pumps, William tsked at the red line where the stiff leather had pressed against her swollen foot. “You should wear more comfortable shoes.”
“These look elegant.”
“Do you think anyone notices?”
Beth pulled her foot away and sat up. “Yes. Yes, I do. It’s all about appearances, William.”
He tugged on her other shoe. “You appear not to have a life outside this salon.”
“Oh, please. So I work hard. You do, too.”
“But I also play hard. You don’t play at all.”
As her shoe hit the floor, Beth realized that she had no idea what William did when he wasn’t at Tuxedo Park. If anything, she assumed he used the time to catch up on chores and the minutiae of life like she did. “What do you do?”
“Well, let’s see. I belong to a hiking club. I’m also a volunteer guide for Rocky Falls Park.”
She’d been expecting him to say he kicked back and took it easy.
“And a couple of years ago, I tried my hand at brewing my own beer. I joined the microbrewers’ co-op. Those are the beers I serve next door. The one with the tuxedo on the label is my recipe.” He smiled. “I’m kinda proud of that. Lean back.”
Stunned, Beth leaned. “Anything else?” There couldn’t be anything else, could there?
“I’ve been known to take off and fish. I also support Prom Pals, the group that provides tuxes to guys who can’t afford to rent them.” William started massaging her foot. “And I’ve attended services at all six churches in Rocky Falls.”
Beth stared at him. “I had no idea.”
“I know.” He stared back as he worked on her foot, flexing it to stretch her Achilles’ tendon.
“Why didn’t you ever mention any of that?”
“You never asked.”
“How was I to know? You should have said something!”
He moved to the other foot. “You’re only interested in William. That’s Bill’s life.”
“You are Bill.”
“Exactly. I am not William. He’s this starchy formal character you created.”
Beth opened and closed her mouth. Clearly, William had issues with their business model. “You want me to call you Bill? Is that it?”
“I want you to think of me as Bill.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Then it’s time I explained it to you.”
“But—”
“Relax,” he murmured, and his fingers began to work their magic.
The tension of the day melted beneath his warm hands. He slowly stroked her ankles and calves before gripping her feet and squeezing all the numb places on her toes.
“Ooooh, you give the best foot rubs.” Closing her eyes, Beth sighed and went limp—for just a moment—against the sofa. “Mmm.” She settled more deeply into the cushions. “That feels soooo goooood.”
He pulled at the end of her hose so her toes could straighten out. “Oh, yes,” she breathed. “Oooooh, yes.”
“You make the sexiest little sounds when I rub your feet,” he said.
Her eyes shot open. “I don’t make sounds!”
“You do.”
Did she? “Well…if I do, they aren’t sexy.”
“Yeah, they are.” His eyes met hers.
Funny how his eyes weren’t as crinkly as she remembered. She waited for him to grin or say something annoying, but his thumbs kept working the aching ball of her foot, a dangerous glint in his blue gaze.
The movement of his hands became more intimate and more caressing and Beth was aware that this was more than just another foot rub.
William—or rather Bill—had rubbed her feet many times before, but he’d never looked at her the way he was looking at her now, and his touch had never felt the way it felt now. Beth was caught in the intensity of his gaze. As his fingers worked the base of each toe, she felt a warmth spreading through her middle.
Uh-oh.
With one look, Bill had made her aware of him as a man. He wasn’t supposed to be a man—he was supposed to be her business partner. It was understood that the man/woman thing wasn’t a part of their agreement. At least, that’s what Beth understood.
Bill? Maybe not.
His blue eyes had gone molten and heavy lidded with desire. Yes, desire. For her. Without saying a word, he was changing their relationship and she didn’t know if she wanted that.
Still he watched her as he massaged her foot and ankle, and moved up her calf, stroking and kneading.
Those hands…the confidence with which he touched her…their strength…the caring…
A tiny sound escaped her. It could possibly be considered a sexy sound, if one wanted to think of it that way. Which she didn’t, but judging from Bill’s flicker of a smile, he did. He had a nice mouth. Why had she never noticed his mouth before? Why had she never noticed him before?
“Come play with me tomorrow.” His voice was deep and husky and vaguely erotic.
She couldn’t just take off. And even if she could, she wasn’t sure it was wise. “I can’t. We’re booked.”
“The weekend. Let’s rent a paddleboat and spend some of this nice spring weather on the lake.”
“Monica Teague is coming in. I should be here.”
“She’s not booked for the whole weekend.”
“Cara Brantley’s bridesmaids can’t come in during work hours.”
“What about Thursday? Friday? We can have lunch in the park.” The man just would not give up.
“The Indian-doctor couple is coming in,” she reminded him. “You have an appointment with Dr. Sharma, remember?”
Instead of backing off, Bill leaned forward until he was inches from her face. “Then you pick a time.” His eyes blazed.
Beth smothered a totally unexpected flare of attraction. “It’s difficult to plan—”
“Pick. A. Time.”
No.