“It’s my housewife costume,” said Emma.
“But…” He had to clear his throat because just looking at her made him ache so that he could barely talk. “There’s no shoot today. We’re…done.”
“I know. Can I come in, Rafe?”
Without waiting for an answer, she stepped inside, having to brush against him to do so. His entire body tightened at the feel of her soft skin, and he recognized the scent of her as if he’d already mated for life.
Damn it. Damn her. “I’m pretty busy,” he said, not wanting to hear about why she’d turned him away earlier. “I’m working.”
She made a low tsking sound in her throat as she moved into the living room, studying what he’d put up on the walls. “You know what they say about working too hard.” Clasping her hands together, she whirled to face him. “It’s not good for you. You don’t take time for yourself, to live, to dream. You…” She took a deep breath. “You push people away. People you don’t mean to push away.”
He looked into her eyes. “Are we talking about me…or you?”
She lifted her hands and brought them to the tiny, neat line of buttons running down the length of her dress. One by one she undid them, and because he was shocked, she got to her belly button before his mouth worked.
“What are you doing?”
With a little shimmy of her shoulders, she allowed the sleeves of the dress to fall to her elbows. Bending slightly, she continued unbuttoning herself. “I was always sorry I didn’t get to model this one for you.”
Then she straightened. She spread apart the bodice of her dress, revealing that, beneath the modest, housewife outfit, she wore a red silky camisole and matching silky shorts.
He recognized it as the match to the black one that Amber had worn during one of the shoots.
“I’m sorry I rejected your script today,” she whispered, dropping the dress entirely, leaving her in only the barely-there red silk. “It was beautiful. It just took a moment to sink in that you could really mean it, that you could really want me for more than just what we shared physically. Then, when I went after you, you were already gone and-”
He stopped her mouth with his, just hauled her close and laid one on her, so overcome with the fact that she was here, that she wanted him, that he could hold her. Only when they needed air did he pull back.
“Rafe-”
“I love you, Emma.”
Her breath caught. Her eyes misted. “I wasn’t done with my whole spiel. I thought I’d have to sell myself. Promise you that I intend to be less uptight. That I told the studio I was cutting back-”
“There’s only one promise I’m wanting.”
“Anything,” she whispered, holding his hands to her face. “Just ask me.”
“Love me back.”
Now her eyes overfilled and two drops slipped down, wetting his fingers. “Oh, Rafe.” She shot him a tremulous smile. “I do. I love you back. I love you so very, very much.” Then she laughed.
“What could possibly be funny?”
“I got off easy.” She kissed him, then pulled back, her eyes dancing with love and laughter. “You could have asked me to wear Leave It to Beaver dresses every day-”
“God, no.” He shuddered.
“Or maybe naughty lingerie-”
“Now that works,” he said fervently, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up against him, loving the feel of her creamy skin barely covered in the red silk. He slid his hand beneath those shorts now, his fingers coaxing a gasp out of her. “But with or without the silk, all I want is you. Only you.”
“Only you,” she vowed back, and tossed her arms around his neck as he scooped her up against him and strode toward his bedroom. “Only you…”
Epilogue
Six months later
AMBER BURST INTO THE ROOM wearing the kind of wide Cheshire-cat grin that usually meant trouble.
“I take it that smile means you have a good reason for being late.” Emma adjusted her strapless bra. She stood in front of a full-length mirror in the bra and matching white satin panties with thigh-high lacy stockings and heels. It was a good look for her.
She hadn’t worked more than a normal, healthy forty-hour workweek in six months, leaving her time to have a real life, which meant she had a little tan to contrast nicely with the white satin.
She’d been able to see Rafe on a nightly basis.
And oh, baby, how they’d used their time wisely. She sighed in blissful pleasure just thinking about all that they’d done together in the past six months.
But now she had to focus. “I need help getting into the dress…” Emma looked at her beautiful veil hanging off the side of the mirror and had to let out a smile. She couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle toward the rest of her life, toward the best thing that had ever happened to her-Rafe.
“They came,” Amber said.
“What came?”
Amber hoisted the box she held until she had Emma’s full attention. Then, still grinning, she ripped into it and pulled something out.
It looked like-
“No,” Emma whispered, but Amber only laughed.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Our fantasy calendars have arrived.”
Emma took the calendar from her sister’s fingers and opened it up, gaping like a fish out of water at the sight of the tall, leggy brunette wearing nothing more than white filmy material in a lush Hawaiian rain forest. Glowing skin, captivating smile and the eyes…full of so much it took Emma’s breath.
She couldn’t stop staring. “My God. This is…me.”
“Yep.”
She flipped to the next page, having to smile at the red halter top and denim shorts that made her look…well, hot. “Wow.”
“Look at the rest. It’s amazing.”
Emma turned the pages and examined each one. By the time she was done, she was grinning. Laughing, she set the calendar aside long enough to step into her wedding dress-with Amber’s help. Grabbing up the calendar again, she said, “Let’s go. I want to show Rafe.”
“Not before the wedding! It’s bad luck.”
That had Emma laughing even harder. “Are you kidding? This calendar is our good luck charm. I bet he’s in his dressing room swearing at his tux as he tries to get into it after months and months of never wearing more than a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt. Are you coming?”
Amber linked her arm into her sister’s. “And miss out on the chance to see the groom, and hopefully his best man-soon to be my groom-in their skivvies? Let’s go, sis.”
And off Emma went, calendar in one hand, her sister in the other, to see her husband-to-be. Off to the rest of her life.
Jill Shalvis
