Soft music played through speakers and the shop smelled like coffee and cake. Everything looked so pretty and feminine, making Reid feel like a bull in a china shop. When Addison went on tiptoe to put a floppy lace hat up on a shelf he tilted his head, admiring how the silky material of her dress molded to her very nice butt. He decided he’d better make his presence known and walked closer to her. “Hello, Addison.”
“Eek!” Clearly startled, she spun around, tossing the hat like a Frisbee right at Reid.
He caught it. “I want you on my Frisbee golf team.”
“I didn’t mean to do that.” She put a hand to her chest. “You scared me,” she admitted with a smile that quickly dissolved to a frown, as if she suddenly remembered to be pissed at him. “You really need to stop sneaking up on me.”
“Sorry.”
“At the risk of sounding rude, what are you doing here?”
“It’s an open house.”
“Was . . .” She pointed up to a really big round clock boasting large Roman numerals. “I’m closing.”
He stepped forward. “Hey, um, are you mad at me?”
“No,” she said, but her clipped tone indicated otherwise.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call. I—”
“Oh, just the phrase a girl wants to hear. Whatever . . . no big deal.” Again, her tone said that it was a big deal. She reached out and snatched the hat. This wasn’t going well.
“Okay, um, these are for you.” When he thrust the flowers forward something flickered in her eyes.
“Thank you.” Ah . . . at least her voice softened.
“The cake smells good,” Reid said uncertainly, wishing he was better at this.
Addison waved the hand with the hat toward a table near the windows. “Help yourself. There’s coffee or champagne if you prefer.”
“Would you have a glass with me?”
“I’m busy.”
Reid glanced around. “Everyone is gone, Addison.”
“Except for you.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Yes.” She took a few steps away from him but then gave a little cry of pain and started to limp.
“Oh God. Are you okay?” Reid rushed forward and put a hand on her elbow.
“It’s these shoes. They’re killing my feet and I have a blister the size of Montana on my left heel.”
“Montana?”
“Maybe Texas,” she said weakly.
“Well, damn, Addison, sit down. I’ll bring you some champagne.” When she took a step and hissed, he said, “Hey, wait. Hold on to my shoulders.”
“What?”
“I’m going to kneel down and take the stupid shoes off.”
“They’re not stupid; they’re Jimmy Choo. I should have broken them in, but Mom sent them so I wanted to wear them.”
“Let me guess—they cost the earth.”
“Ha. Who are you to talk in your Tony Lama boots?”
“How did you know that?” Did she know they’d set him back nearly a grand? He’d bought them back in the heyday, before his life went to hell in a handbasket.
“I’m going to stock boots for brides who want a cowgirl theme. If I’m not mistaken those are ostrich.”
Reid grinned. “You’re not mistaken. I want to be buried in these suckers. You should be flattered. I bring them out only for very special occasions. But they don’t hurt my feet.”
When Reid eased one shoe from her foot she moaned. “Oh God, that feels so good.”
“I get that a lot.” Reid glanced up at her and she laughed. “You wanna go for two?” he asked. He looked at the heels. “That’s gotta be at least five inches.”
“Only four,” she corrected, and laughed.
“I know what you’re thinking. . . . Don’t say it.”
“Okay, I’ll just think it.”
Reid looked at the shoes. He had to admit they were damned sexy.
“But, yes, let’s go for two.” She gave him a low moan when he gently eased the shoe off of her other foot. “Oh, that’s heaven.”
“Addison, you do have a nasty blister. Why didn’t you change out of these pieces of torture?” He stood up with the shoes dangling from his fingers.
“I didn’t really notice the pain until people started leaving. And then my feet were suddenly on fire.”
“This girl is on fire . . .” he sang, and she tossed her head back and laughed. Thank goodness the ice was broken. He usually wasn’t exactly good at flirting, but there was something about Addison that somehow made him relax after being in her presence for only a few minutes. He didn’t think he’d ever burst into song with a woman before but getting her to laugh was worth making a fool of himself. “Now go sit down in that huge chair over there. Hand me the flowers. I’ll bring you some champagne.”
“I won’t argue,” she said weakly and walked gingerly over to the big wingback black velvet chair trimmed in gold. After she sat down she eased her feet up onto a matching ottoman. A weary sigh escaped her while she leaned forward and massaged her feet, exposing a nice display of cleavage. Reid swallowed hard and almost dropped the flutes of champagne. He downed the cold bubbly liquid in three gulps.
“Here you go,” Reid said.
“Thank you.” She accepted the glass and took a sip. “Ah, nectar of the gods,” she said with a tired grin.
Knowing he was taking a chance Reid lifted up her feet and scooted onto the big ottoman. Her eyes rounded slightly but she didn’t kick or scream, so he went on to his next move . . . massaging her feet.
“If you’re trying to get back in my good graces, that’s totally working.”
Reid chuckled softly. “I am.”
“Then don’t even think of stopping.”
“I won’t.” He pressed the pad of his thumb to the ball of her foot, rolling it back and forth.
“Dear Lord . . . I think you missed your calling.” She leaned against the back of the chair and sipped her drink, watching him through half-lidded eyes. She looked so tired that Reid longed to scoop her up in his arms and carry her upstairs to bed. The massage therapy wouldn’t stop with her feet.
“Sara said you wanted to go over to Sully’s and have a night out on the town. Are you game?”
“Not unless you want to carry me piggyback again.”
“I would.”
Her expression softened even more. He hoped it wasn’t just from the champagne. “That would be funny.” She giggled, and he knew she was a bit slaphappy but it was so damned cute on her.
Reid chuckled. “Have you eaten?”
Addison jammed her thumb over her head. “Cake.”
“Is that champagne going straight to your head?”
“Yeah, it’s awesome. May I have another?” She raised her glass.
“Absolutely.” Reid refilled both glasses. “What are the raspberries for?” He pointed to the bowl.
“Oh, you drop one into the bottom of the flute. To look pretty and to go with the filling in the cake.”
“Ahh . . . of course.” Reid plunked one into her glass.
“No raspberry for you?”
“I don’t fruit my drinks.”
“Yeah, well, you do have to worry about that last swallow.”
“Sounds like you know this from experience.” Reid handed her the glass and then sat back down.
“I seem to learn everything the hard way.” When she started to put her feet on the floor he shook his head.
“No you don’t. Put those tired toes back where they belong.”
“In your lap?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m too bone weary to argue. Pretty soon I’ll be tipsy. Wait. I think I already am. Was that your grand plan?” She tipped the glass up to lips that were tinted with something pink and glossy.