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“Did she find the box I left for her?” he asked Elise before she wandered off to complete her check.
“Yep.” She grinned. “I can’t wait to see what costume you picked out. Does it match yours?”
“No.” He rapped on the metal plate covering his chest. “But I hope she’s finally figured out I want to be her knight in shining armor.”
Elise waved her fingertips and returned to ticking off items on her clipboard.
Ross jumped down from the elevated platform, distracted by Macy’s continued absence. Sunday was handling things backstage, Rowena was in the show, and Elise was the point person for the caterer. He and Macy were host and hostess of the event, which meant she needed to get her beautiful ass out front.
He checked his watch. Twenty minutes.
He navigated through the rows of chairs, proud of what they’d accomplished. The fashion show would pull in tons of publicity for BonTemps. Exceeding Beau’s expectations would guarantee Macy’s promotion to senior event planner. He’d worked his way past her defenses and now had a chance to show her how a real man treated a woman. Not an asshat like Gerald, but a real man with real feelings.
Slipping into the dressing area which was all naked female flesh, feminine chatter, and clouds of hairspray, he located Sunday and raised his brows, miming confusion. She pointed to a dim hallway he knew led to a series of small rooms and then went back to adjusting the cups of a barely there plum-colored bra on one of the models.
“Macy?” He knocked lightly on one of the doors, a narrow band of light indicating the room was occupied. “
“Don’t come in,” she squealed.
“Then you’d better come out.” He rattled the doorknob.
“I can’t. Not wearing this.” Her voice was high-pitched and frantic.
“You lost the bet.” He grinned, knowing she’d never expected the costume he’d picked out for her.
“You’re crazy,” she whimpered.
“Crazy in love,” he muttered. Then, louder: “I’ve fantasized about seeing you in that getup for months. Let’s go, babe.”
The door opened a bare inch, revealing one wide, shocked, violet eye and coiled strand of silky hair. “Really?”
Gently, Ross forced the door wider. Macy backed up, splayed hands shielding first her bare abdomen and then the creamy expanse of breasts revealed in the cropped halter top portion of her belly dancer costume. A belt of gold coins jangled as she moved, drawing his attention to the waistband riding the swell of her hips, well below the indentation of her belly button. Slits in the sides of the chiffon harem pants teased him with glimpses of soft skin and luscious thighs.
“This shows way too much,” she objected.
“I disagree.” He prowled closer, his erection throbbing at the sight of her. “Quit thinking you aren’t enough. Or that you’re too much. You’re just right, Macy.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Just the press of his mouth to hers, but it promised more. As much as she ever needed and wanted.
“As soon as this damned Halloween fashion show is over, I’ll prove I mean every word.” He trailed his fingers down her spine, over the curve of her ass, and back up to palm her breasts. “If I can wait.”
“As long as you don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight.” Macy’s entire face glowed. She shimmied, the playful tinkling of the coin belt breaking the intense emotional moment. “By the way, I love your costume. Did you wear it for me, Ross?”
He nodded, his heart pounding against the chest plate. If he had to pretend every day was Halloween to be her knight in shining armor, that’s what he would do.
7
“How many phone numbers did you collect tonight?” Ross dipped a finger beneath the gold coin belt, rubbing his knuckle back and forth over the sensitive flesh of her belly.
Macy peered into the pocket of fabric between her breasts in the beaded halter top and pulled out another tiny, folded piece of paper. She added it to the jumble of similar scraps on top of her black lacquered dresser. “No idea who slipped me this one.”
He smoothed his hands over the rounded swell of her abdomen, settling them on her hips and straightening her so she stood squarely in front of him. Tilting his head, he examined every inch of skin.
“What are you looking at?” She forced herself not to stiffen defensively beneath his scrutiny.
“Bruises. Pinch marks. Scratches.” His featherlight touch soothed her insecurities only half as much as the possessive tone. “If I had any idea you’d be manhandled like you were tonight, I would have picked a different costume.”
“Oink.” Her exhalation was half laughter, half sigh.
