Page 3 of Outside the Lines
And something I wanted. I swallowed against desire. Down boy.You know nothing, Ian Meyers.
Simon exhaled. “There.” He set the starship down, cleaned his brush, and stood. “Now, what can I help you with?”
My brain locked up. He wasn’t particularly tall—we were about the same height—but the way his jeans hung on his hips cupped him perfectly. Legs and torso and, God, that bemused expression. “Uh.”
I’m so fucking eloquent.
“Paints?” he said. “Models? You working on something particular?”
Apparently, a nice boner. Boy, I needed to get a grip. “Yes, paints.” I swallowed. “And yes, something in particular. But it’s not a commercial model.” I waved at the kits.
He lit up. “Are you sculpting? I’ve wanted to do that, but I have no talent, whatsoever.”
I did sculpt. Stuff that would work in a shop like this too. Dragons. Fantasy beasts. Weird organic spaceships. “Your painting is exquisite. That takes talentanda steady hand.”
He snorted. “It’s not horribly artistic.”
I stepped closer to the table and him. “It can be.” The detailing on the ship—it wasn’t any particular film or television property’s merchandise—was not what was on the cover of the nearby box. “You’re doing your own thing.”
“I usually do,” he murmured.
When I glanced up, I got the distinct impression he was checking me out. Delight clashed with fear and zinged down my legs. “Me too.”
He met my stare, and his smile could have been called cocky in some script or another. “You still haven’t told me what you need.”
A one-night stand? A quickie in the back room? Dinner and a movie?Shit. “I’m here for work. It’s kind of a desperate situation.”
“Work?” He pursed his lips.
Simon had a mouth that begged to be kissed. Plump, wet, and lovely. I quieted my voice. “I make miniature sets forWolf’s Landing.”
His breath hitched. Wasn’t sure if it was me or what I’d said, but it didn’t matter. There’s something about flustering a guy that drives my pulse skyward. I’d take it.
“What happened?” he whispered.
I told him, and he tried hard not to snicker. Failed. By the end of my tale, I was laughing too. The absurdity of it all, Anna’s reaction, and what the stunt guy would probably go through during training. “So,” I said, “can you help me?”
I hoped he could, because if the answer was no, I was out of options. And I’d never get a chance to take him out for a beer, ’cause Anna would have me buried out in the forest somewhere.
Can you help me?The words rang through my head and it took all of my restraint not to blurt outYes, yes, I can!Help someone from Hollywood, someone fromWolf’s Landingwith anything? Oh God, I wanted to jump up and down and beg.
My wife, Lydia, called it my inner fanboi, and she was right. I squeed with the best of them, though not in public, especially not aboutWolf’s Landing. Not when they’d revitalized the town.
“Yeah.” I tried to keep my voice steady and smooth. Didn’t help that this guy was Hollywood gorgeous and everything I liked in men. My height, dark hair, rich brown eyes that I could spend eternity falling into, a waist I wanted to hold, and shoulders made for biting.
I washopelesswhen it came to men.
“We certainly have paints and most of the other supplies. I might have some stuff at home, too.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want to cause you problems. Get you in trouble with the boss.”
My laugh bubbled out, high and giddy. “Iamthe boss.”
The way his smile crinkled around his eyes set my blood alight. His gaze darted down and up my body, and every bit of me heated. No, I hadn’t been imagining him checking me out.
Damn.Damn. “I’m Simon Derry.” I offered him my hand and he took it in a warm, strong grip. Rough skin.
Electrifying.Hell.
