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The question was harmless, yet an awful premonition made Teddy’s stomach dip.
“I don’t believe so,” Austin replied with a smile, and pressed his hand to Teddy’s spine to keep her moving along the buffet line.
Janet managed to stay aligned to them, eyeing Austin with too much interest as she put a croissant on her plate. “I keep imagining you in a police uniform. Are you a cop?”
The spoonful of scalloped potatoes Teddy scooped up missed her plate and would have landed on her shoes if it hadn’t been for Austin smoothly intercepting the entrée with his own plate.
“No, I’m a broker,” Austin said to Janet without missing a beat. Taking the spoon from Teddy’s unsteady fingers, he ladled a small portion of the potatoes onto her dish and murmured, “Be careful, honey, or we’re going to have a mess on our hands.”
The meaning behind Austin’s words wasn’t lost on Teddy. She struggled to keep a cool composure when all she could envision was the possible scandal should Austin be exposed. Her reputation at Sharper Image would be tarnished, and no doubt she’d kiss that promotion she’d coveted goodbye.
Austin’s answer didn’t seem to appease Janet. Ruthless determination gleamed in her eyes. “I was so certain you were a cop.”
“You must have him mixed up with someone else you’ve met,” Teddy interjected quickly, desperate to end the interrogation.
“Maybe, but I’ve got a memory for faces.” Janet’s gaze flickered dismissively from Teddy, to Austin, scrutinizing him one last time as she waited for the chef to place a slice of prime rib on her plate. “It’s going to drive me nuts until I place where I’ve seen you.” The slight curve to her mouth suggested she found Austin a mystery she intended to solve.
Teddy let out a tight breath as they finished their trek through the buffet and headed back to their table. “Tell me she wasn’t a Fantasy for Hire customer,” Teddy said, knowing her wish was a futile one.
“Unfortunately, I do remember her, though she’s not the one I fulfilled the fantasy for,” Austin replied wryly. “It was at a bachelorette party a few months ago, and the bride-to-be was marrying a cop, thus my costume. That redhead was more enthusiastic about my performance than the bride.”
Teddy groaned at her bad luck. “Hopefully, Janet won’t figure out the connection.”
“I think as long as I keep my clothes on, we might stand a chance,” he said, winking at her.
A burst of dry laughter escaped her throat, but his playful remark didn’t completely reassure her.
Clothes or no, Austin McBride had a body and face that most women wouldn’t soon forget.
The Christmas party was winding down, and Austin loathed for the evening to end, especially since he had Teddy right where he wanted her—in his embrace, dancing close to a slow Christmas ballad that comprised the band’s last set.
Despite the fantasy of playing Teddy’s lover, he’d enjoyed being with her and wondered if he’d see her again after tonight—no pretenses, just as a man and a woman strongly attracted to each other. The thought appealed to him immensely.
It went against his work ethics to pursue a client, but he’d thrown that restriction out the window the moment he’d agreed to accompany Teddy to her party. The stakes had somehow turned personal for him, his interest in Teddy Spencer stretching beyond business, yet he had no idea where he stood with her.
Before they parted ways, he intended to find out.
He glanced down at the woman in his arms, and found Teddy frowning, her troubled gaze trained on something beyond the parquet dance floor. Following her line of vision, he discovered her watching the redhead they’d encountered at the buffet table a few hours ago, who stood near the service bar conversing with Louden. She’d yet to approach them again, and Austin fervently hoped, for Teddy’s sake, that the other woman’s curiosity, and tenacity, fizzled. As for Louden, he’d kept his distance as well, but there were times throughout the evening when Austin had caught the man eyeing Teddy in a way that made Austin feel territorial.
“What’s on your mind, Teddy?” he asked, surprising himself with just how much he wanted to know about this woman who seemed such a paradox.
She pulled her gaze from the pair, and smiled up at him, a lazy curving of her mouth that attested to her relaxed state. “A cop, hmm?” she murmured, revealing exactly where her mind had ventured. “What’s your specialty at Fantasy for Hire?”
“I don’t really have one,” he admitted, rubbing his thumb over the hand he held against his chest. “Women’s fantasies vary, and are very personal. I’ve been a lifeguard, a UPS deliveryman, a biker. It all depends on the woman, and what turns her on.”
The hand resting on his shoulder moved upward, until her fingers touched the hair curling over the collar of his shirt. Her body flowed against his as they swayed to Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” “I bet you look just as good in leather pants as you do in chaps.”
“Ah, your fantasy,” he murmured. Pressing his palm low on her back, he slid a thigh gently between hers, making their position more intimate, more arousing. “How did I do in terms of fulfilling it?”
She gave him a sultry, upswept look that had him thinking inappropriate thoughts, considering they were still in a public place, surrounded by a dozen other dancing couples.
“You certainly lassoed my attention,” she admitted in a sexy, cowgirl drawl.
He felt ridiculously pleased with her confession. “So, what is it about a cowboy that turns you on?”
She gave his question some thought as they danced, her expression soft, her dark eyes luminous. “They’re rugged, but chivalrous, which makes them appealing.” She shrugged, her gaze meeting his daringly. “And there’s just something about chaps on a man that I find incredibly sexy, not to mention the sound of spurs on a wooden floor.”
A slow, spiraling heat spread toward his groin. “I’d wear spurs for you, cowgirl,” he whispered huskily, honestly.
