Tiny bubbles got caught in Sean’s throat and he forced himself to swallow. “Come again?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He’d heard of beer goggles. Maybe he had vodka ears.
“Geez, Lex. What are you planning?” Jimmy asked.
Sean wanted to know the same.
“We need to unbutton the back of my dress so we can get to the zipper on this stupid petticoat. It’s big and itchy and driving me crazy.”
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen a petticoat, but he was sure he shouldn’t see one now. Not in a small seaplane, and not with Kowalsky’s daughter. He and the Chinooks coach tolerated each other out of respect for the organization, but he knew he probably shouldn’t undress John’s baby girl. “Do you have a knife, Jimmy?” Maybe she could cut her way out without his help.
“Negative. I might have some toenail clippers in my duffel.”
Toenail clippers? What the fuck? Three hours wasn’t all that long to sit on the floor in a big itchy dress. She might be uncomfortable but she wouldn’t die. Sean set his glass on his knee and stared hard into Lexie’s big blue eyes. He used the kind of hard stare that intimidated defensemen on the ice and sent little dogs scurrying from the room.
The corners of her red lips turned up like she didn’t notice. Her smile looked kind of pouty, or maybe it was just her full lips. He’d been wrong about Lexie Kowalsky; she hadn’t been photoshopped at all. At the moment, she wore too much makeup, probably due to her aborted television appearance, but it didn’t matter. She was beautiful. She was real. She was sitting in front of him like she’d been dipped in whipping cream. Her father wasn’t his biggest fan, and she was asking him to undress her.
“Thanks, Sean,” she said as if he’d agreed.
Like she didn’t have a clue who he was.
“You’re a sweetheart.”
He lifted his gaze from her mouth to her eyes again. Her clueless blue eyes. She didn’t recognize him at all, and he smiled. Maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he would have told her right then and there. Maybe his smile wouldn’t have turned into a silent chuckle if he hadn’t felt a reprieve from the possible showdown with Coach Kowalsky.
She scooted herself until she was on her knees and presented him her back. A mass of blond curls fell to the middle of her back, and she slid a hand behind her neck and pulled them to one side. “I appreciate your help.”
The back of the headset rested against smooth skin, and she smelled like expensive perfume. Tiny buttons closed the back of the dress, starting between her shoulder blades and running down her spine to somewhere below her behind. Everything about her looked soft. From her hair and skin and eyelashes, to the smile she gave him over one shoulder.
“Sorry I don’t have a buttonhook.”
Sean couldn’t remember a time he’d ever undressed a woman without taking her to bed. He shoved his cup in the cup holder between the seats and raised his hands to the first button. It slipped through his fingers, and his knuckles brushed her skin. He tried again with the same results, but the third time, he managed to pinch the little button through the loop.
She was beautiful and soft. She was chaos and madness. She was a real pain in the ass. The second button was more difficult than the first, and he swore beneath his breath as he pinched hard.
“I know I’m a pain in the ass,” she said; apparently his aggravation had been picked up by the mic at the side of his mouth. “Sometimes.”
Through the earphones, Jimmy chuckled as if he agreed. “How’d you end up on Gettin’ Hitched, Lex?” the pilot asked. “I was surprised to see you on that show. I just never figured you for a woman desperate to get married.”
“I’m not.”
Sean’s fingers were too big and he fumbled with the third button. He looked down the long row of all those slippery buttons and tiny loops and wondered if he should just rip the dress down the back.
“I tried out for the show because I thought it would be great free publicity for my business. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” She shook her head, and a curl escaped her hand and fell down her back. “I needed to do something big. Something to increase my brand and get greater exposure.” Sean picked up the lock of her blond hair to move it out of the way. “Yum Yum’s Closet is online retail only,” Lexie continued, “and can’t compete with big retail chains. I plan to open my first retail store in Bellevue near the mall and I needed to get the word out.”
Sean stilled as her soft hair fell across the back of his hand once more. Yum Yum’s Closet? Sounded like a sex shop to him. Like Naughty by Nature or Frisky Business or Cox in a Box.
“Did it work?” the pilot wanted to know.
“Ten minutes after the first episode aired, my Web site got sixty hits per thirty seconds and crashed. Online sales are up fifty-eight percent in just three months. Most of my Fabulous FiFi line is sold out.”
Fabulous FiFi?
“I never knew pet stores were so dog-eat-dog.” Jimmy laughed at his own pun.
For reasons unknown to Sean, disappointment lowered his brows as he pushed her hair aside once more. “You own a pet store?”
She looked over her shoulder and her blue eyes gazed up into his. “I manufacture and sell animal couture.”
“You sell dog clothes.” It was more a statement of disbelief than anything. Sean had an aversion to yappy dogs. Especially yappy dogs in leather jackets and biker hats.
“Yes, but I’ve expanded the business to include toys and beds and safety items.” She shrugged one bare shoulder, and the lock of hair fell down her back again. “Most anything an animal might need.”
“Animals don’t need clothes,” he pointed out, and brushed the curl aside again. It got stuck on some rhinestones or crystals or whatever and stayed there.
“They don’t need special parks and condos, either, but I never hear anyone badmouthing dog parks and cat condos.”
“Don’t get Lexie started about dogs,” Jimmy warned.
Sean tugged and pinched and managed to get the fourth and fifth buttons through the little loops. The silk fabric parted and a red imprint from the tight dress creased her flesh. He brushed his thumb across the welt on her perfect skin. He’d probably been a real tool for thinking she should stay in an uncomfortable dress that pinched her skin for the next three hours.
“I love all animals.” Her cheeks flushed a soft pink and she ducked her face. “And I have a talent for animal couture. My mother said I come by it naturally, inherited from my great-grandmother, who had a fondness for making clothes for her chickens. Although why she wasted her talent on chicken clothes is a mystery. Chickens are messy and end up on a rotisserie.”
What the hell? Someone in her family made chicken clothes? Was she crazy?
“When I was young, I made clothes for all my stuffed animals and even my Chia Pets. Then my daddy bought me my first dog, when I was seven. I’ve made all my dogs’ haute couture ever since. After Pongo, I had Lady and Tramp. Now I just have Yum Yum. She’s a Chinese crested and very yummy.”
“Geeez-us.” All her bizarre rambling about dogs and clothes and chickens was just crazy. A whole lot of crazy wrapped up in a beautiful package. A beautiful package with smooth skin that invited a man’s kiss. On the side of her neck where she smelled so good.
“A few months ago, I made a Superman cape for an iguana. It was a special order, of course.”
Despite being crazy, his body responded to her. A hot yank in the pit of his stomach that spread to his groin. A totally natural response, given that he was undressing a beautiful woman. He didn’t fight it, but that didn’t mean he was enjoying himself. He didn’t enjoy getting hard-ons for crazy women bound to create chaos.
“This isn’t working,” he said. “My fingers are too big and those buttons are too small.” She looked up at him, and he added, “I’ll have to rip it down the back.”
“Oh.” She stared into his eyes for several heartbeats. “I don’t know. The producers might want it back.”
Sean grabbed the open sides of the dress and gathered as much silk as possible in each fist. Several buttons whizzed past Sean’s head and peppered the fuselage as the sound of ripping cloth filled the cabin. One final yank and the dress lay open, exposing smooth skin, more ugly red welts, and white corset. Sean lowered his gaze down the lacing, to the indent of her spine at the bottom of her corset. Without being asked, he reached inside the dress, pushed aside the itchy net stuff, and pulled a metal zipper down as far as possible. Then he raised his hands like a calf roper and sat back in his seat.
“Oh my God, that feels wonderful.” She reached behind her and scratched a red mark in the small of her back. “I can almost breathe.” She wiggled back and forth and tried to stand. With her hands at her breasts, holding up the dress, it took her several suspenseful minutes before she was able to stand as much as possible.
Sean took a drink and watched her over the bottom of his glass. If she removed her hands, her breasts would fall out of her dress. He waited in anticipation, but wasn’t the least bit surprised when exasperation pulled her brows together, and she asked for his help once more.
“I need you to reach up under the dress and pull my slip down. The darn thing practically stands up on its own. I’d do it myself but . . .” She paused to look down at her hands.
He smiled and returned his drink to the cup holder. He had a better solution than rolling around beneath her dress and looking up her long legs. He reached behind him and dragged his duffel into his lap. He pulled out his old plaid shirt and tossed it at her. The brown-and-gold fabric hit her shoulder and she grabbed ahold of it. Her plump breasts and deep cleavage strained her dress even more.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” That was his favorite shirt, but the sacrifice was worth it. He returned his duffel, kicked back with his Grey Goose, and watched the show.
She threaded one arm then the other through the sleeves, then buttoned it. She wiggled some more as she wrestled her way out of the dress. She turned this way and that, pulled and pushed and shimmied, and her head disappeared in the pouf.
“Are you okay, Lex?”
“Yeah.” Then she stepped from the pool of white, all long legs and smooth thighs. The shirt hit her several inches above her knees, and she tossed her hair to one side as she stooped to pick up the dress. The dome light shone in her hair, touched the side of her face, and caught in her sparkly shoes next to her pink toes. She tucked and folded and rolled the pouf as she had the veil. Instead of handing it to him, this time she knelt on the passenger seat and stuffed it behind. She bent across the back and pushed. Then she pushed some more, and for several brief seconds, soft brown flannel rode up the backs of her legs, and Sean caught sight of white panties, rounded bottom, and smooth thighs. He supposed he should offer his help, but he didn’t want his hand anywhere near her perfect butt.
“That was a workout.” She sounded even more winded and kind of breathy as she turned around and sat. She modestly pulled the end of the shirt to cover her thighs, as if he hadn’t already gotten an eyeful. “I’m pooped.” She grabbed her drink and took a sip. “How much longer, Jimmy?”
“A little over two hours.”
She swallowed and wrinkled her nose. “Are you flying back tonight?”
“No. Tomorrow morning.”
“I ran out of the Fairmont without my purse. All I have is my Visa.” She leaned her head back against the seat, her eyes wide, as if the full consequences of her actions suddenly hit her like a two-by-four to the forehead. “I don’t have cash or my phone or clothes or makeup.”
Makeup wouldn’t be fourth on his list.
“There’s probably an ATM at the Harbor Inn,” Jimmy said.
“Do they offer massage?” She shrugged her shoulders and moved her head from side to side. “I could use a massage.”
Sean laughed. “’Fraid not, princess. People go to Sandspit this time of year to fish for salmon,” Sean added. “There’s nothing fancy in town. No turn-down service anywhere on the island.”
“Bummer. I do love a mint left on my pillow.” She pulled her hair to one side and looked at Sean. “Are you going there to catch salmon?”
“I don’t fish for chinook these days.”
“That’s a good one, Sean,” Jimmy said through a laugh. Sean waited for the pilot to say more, to finally give Lexie a clue. Instead he pushed aside the small Bluetooth microphone and communicated with the ground below.
“What takes you to Sandspit?” Lexie asked.
“My mother lives in Sandspit.” It was inevitable that she would learn who he was. He wasn’t purposely keeping her in the dark—ok, maybe just a little—but he’d sleep easier tonight knowing he wasn’t going to get a call from John in the morning. If that made him a coward, he could live with it. “My mother is ill.” In fact, she was dying. Again.
“I’m sorry.”
This time she said she had pancreatitis. “She’ll pull through.” For as long as he could remember, his mother had been sick. If she hadn’t been sick with one ailment or another, she’d made him sick. His childhood had been filled with unnecessary doctor and hospital visits, and she’d shoved unnecessary medicine down him until the age of ten when his uncle Abe had intervened and they’d gone to live with him in Edmonton.
“What time are we leaving in the morning, Jimmy?” Lexie asked.
“I want to be in the air by nine.”
“I don’t know if I can face everything that early.” She moaned. “I’ll need a pot of coffee.”
“If you want to hide out, I’m flying back to pick up Sean in a few days.” Jimmy glanced back at her. “You might consider laying low until things settle down.”
“No. I have to get back.” She yawned. “By the time we land tomorrow, I’m sure everything will have blown over.”