Love, marriage, and family aren’t in the cards for Tyler Hendrix. Period. The Navy helped Ty put his tumultuous childhood behind him, but when a sexy single mom walks through the First Impressions door looking to take her business to the next level, he feels his carefully constructed “never-get-attached” walls crack.
As Ty and Ellie maneuver through a minefield of wardrobe malfunctions, plumbing mishaps, and the world’s most awkward accidental dirty talk, discovering they have more in common than scorching sexual attraction threatens to crumble Ty’s walls for good…
“Shoot!”
Her tame expletive was tinged with frustration, and there was a clatter behind him as something hit the floor.
“You okay?” he asked in a voice that didn’t quite sound like his own.
“I dropped the thingy,” she said. “The box that you’d hooked to the back of my dress? I’m sorry. It just came off.”
“No problem. Is it safe to turn around?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“No worries.” Ty turned back around, relieved to see her dress in place and the mike pack all in one piece. “My fault,” he assured her. “I knew that fabric was probably too slippery. Let’s try something else.”
He stepped toward her again, inspecting the dress—not her body, dammit—as closely as he dared. Those cutouts at the waistline were sexy as hell, but not sturdy enough to hold the weight of the mike pack. “Okay, what if you hooked it to your, uh…your…”
He froze, not wanting to make this more awkward than it already was.
Ellie frowned, uncomprehending. “My what?”
“Your, um…”
A small smile flickered in her eyes. “Is this like charades with body parts and articles of clothing?”
There was a teasing note in her voice, and Ty reminded himself which business she was in. It wasn’t like he was going to offend her.
“Your underwear,” he said. “Panties.”
Ellie laughed. “Yeah, one problem with that.”
“What?”
“I’m wearing a super-tiny thong. More of a G-string, I guess.”
Holy mother of—
“Okay, then.” Ty cleared his throat, grateful he couldn’t see the expression on his face.
But Ellie saw it, and it made her laugh again. “I wasn’t trying to be sexy or anything,” she said. “These cutouts dip too low on the sides, so regular panties wouldn’t work. And the lace is pretty flimsy, so I don’t think—”
“Okay!” Ty said again, a little too loudly this time. His brain was buzzing, and he definitely needed to turn up the air conditioning, or maybe just stop thinking about Ellie Sanders’s underwear. “Let’s try something else.”
Her tame expletive was tinged with frustration, and there was a clatter behind him as something hit the floor.
“You okay?” he asked in a voice that didn’t quite sound like his own.
“I dropped the thingy,” she said. “The box that you’d hooked to the back of my dress? I’m sorry. It just came off.”
“No problem. Is it safe to turn around?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“No worries.” Ty turned back around, relieved to see her dress in place and the mike pack all in one piece. “My fault,” he assured her. “I knew that fabric was probably too slippery. Let’s try something else.”
He stepped toward her again, inspecting the dress—not her body, dammit—as closely as he dared. Those cutouts at the waistline were sexy as hell, but not sturdy enough to hold the weight of the mike pack. “Okay, what if you hooked it to your, uh…your…”
He froze, not wanting to make this more awkward than it already was.
Ellie frowned, uncomprehending. “My what?”
“Your, um…”
A small smile flickered in her eyes. “Is this like charades with body parts and articles of clothing?”
There was a teasing note in her voice, and Ty reminded himself which business she was in. It wasn’t like he was going to offend her.
“Your underwear,” he said. “Panties.”
Ellie laughed. “Yeah, one problem with that.”
“What?”
“I’m wearing a super-tiny thong. More of a G-string, I guess.”
Holy mother of—
“Okay, then.” Ty cleared his throat, grateful he couldn’t see the expression on his face.
But Ellie saw it, and it made her laugh again. “I wasn’t trying to be sexy or anything,” she said. “These cutouts dip too low on the sides, so regular panties wouldn’t work. And the lace is pretty flimsy, so I don’t think—”
“Okay!” Ty said again, a little too loudly this time. His brain was buzzing, and he definitely needed to turn up the air conditioning, or maybe just stop thinking about Ellie Sanders’s underwear. “Let’s try something else.”
Tawna lives in Bend, Oregon, with her husband, stepkids, and a menagerie of ill-behaved pets. She loves hiking, snowshoeing, standup paddleboarding, and inventing excuses to sip wine on her back porch. She can peel a banana with her toes and loses an average of twenty pairs of eyeglasses per year. To find out more about Tawna and her books, visit www.tawnafenske.com.
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