Love By Design (7 page)

It’s her eyes.
Not just the striking color, but the intelligence and vulnerability behind them. And there were the times he caught her looking at him like she was making a list and checking it twice of what she wanted to do to him. Maybe if Russ was a good boy they could cross out each one.

“Don’t let my height fool you. I’ve learned to adapt. It’s why I’m little pushy.”

A little?
Russ struggled to keep a straight face.

The director sneaked back into the room. “All set?”

Victoria put a sweet smile on her face. “Not quite.” She turned back to Russ. “This will take just a minute or two.”

The look of horror on Stephen’s face as Victoria strolled over to the camera didn’t make Russ feel bad for the director. Not after he threw him head first into the pit. She spoke in tight whispers so Russ couldn’t make out what she was saying. Stephen merely stood in silence peering wistfully at the exit to the room.
Wuss
.

Finished, she came back over to begin shooting. The cameras rolled.

He held his breath as Victoria popped open the lid. That was it? Muddy Brown? At least he didn’t have to pretend. Russ did hate it. Almost looked like shit, only he couldn’t say so on TV. “It looks like a dirty diaper.”

Victoria feigned shock and then shook her head. “Like a man knows what a dirty diaper looks like.” She turned to the camera. “Right, ladies?”

She uncovered two lighter hues of the crappy color she was using for the accent wall. Then she proceeded to dip a brush in the paint and drew it across the wall in a big V. He frowned. “Are you designing a room for a caveman?”

“And you would be an expert, I suppose? On cavemen that is, not design.”

“Good on you.” This was getting fun.

“On me?”

Yes, he wanted to be on her. “I guess you Americans say ‘good job’ or ‘good for you.’” He played up his Aussie accent slightly.

She nodded. “Stayed tuned and maybe we’ll all learn some more Aussie lingo.”

Stephen yelled, “Cut. That was fab.”

Victoria turned to Russ. “Dirty diaper, uhhh?”

He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “Call it like I see it.”

“That’s the problem. You have no vision.”

“Vision?” Hell, did she think she was Van Gogh or something? “You mean nightmares?”

Victoria stomped her foot. “You’re impossible!”

He whispered in her ear, “What I am is not scared of you.” He liked sparring with her and was a little disappointed she gave up so easily.

“You will be.”

She turned her back to him, bending over to recover the paint cans. He didn’t mind the brush off since she did a have a sweet bum. Russ gritted his teeth, regretting not giving her the spanking she so richly deserved.

Chapter 9

H
e hated it. Victoria held back the tears threatening to spill over. Why did it bother her so much? It was the homeowners who mattered. There was only one episode where they despised her design. Victoria pretended it didn’t bother her, but that night she had cried herself to sleep. She lived to please her clients and was proud of the reputation she earned in the industry. She shouldn’t let one or two comments from Russ crush her spirit.

She popped the lids back on as she debated whether she should run to the store to return the paint for a different color. No, she would not second-guess herself. What the hell did he know? She was the one with the dual degrees in architecture and interior design from Pratt Institute. She ran a successful business. He flipping winged it on his show. Not that his designs were horrible. Unsophisticated, to be sure, but not horrible.

It was one thing for him to hate it but did he have to be so mean? Dirty diaper? Caveman? If Neil ever disagreed with her vision, he had the good sense to keep it to himself. They didn’t argue; they had fun. Not like Russ who seemed to enjoy baiting her into a fight. Her vision blurred with unshed tears.

She wouldn’t let him see her cry.

Get a grip. If I can withstand my mother’s derogatory commentary, I can take whatever Russ dishes out.

“Let’s get the build-out segment done,” ordered Stephen.

She practiced a smile before standing up, but Russ had already moved outside to the WWW, which stood for Wood Working World. Victoria followed him out the door. The hot summer sun beat down on her and it was only ten o’clock in the morning. Her make-up wouldn’t last long.

This morning the lawn, though tiny, was immaculately manicured. Now, the crew trampled over the grass with work boots. Materials and tools lay strewn about. An open tent was erected over Russ’s space to block the sun’s rays.

A group of old ladies had set up lawn chairs under a shady oak across the street. She wasn’t sure if they were interested in the show being made or watching Russ at work.

“Is that our fan club?” Russ joked as he waved over to them. They giggled like a bunch of tweens at a Jonas Brothers’ concert, confirming they were interested in Russ.

“Maybe we should sell tickets,” she frowned, concerned that she was jealous of a bunch of elderly groupies instead of thinking the ratings boost the show would receive with the hunky Aussie added to the cast.

At least her nerves had settled down. Filming began and she explained the plans to Russ and to the camera. He leaned in, their heads almost touching as he examined her sketches. Did he approve? He wasn’t saying, though yesterday in her studio he seemed to like it.

His signature beach cologne drifted towards her. She was becoming addicted to the scent. Victoria wanted to bathe in it—preferably with him in the tub.
Okay, okay, what’s next? Oh, the color.

“Then, if you could white wash the …” Her mouth remained opened as the words halted in midair. The camera still rolled on.

Russ didn’t take off his shirt as much as he stripped it off exposing a six-pack to rival any man on the cover of Men’s Health. Tan, taut skin stretched tightly across his pecs. As a child Victoria had not only been fascinated by colors but by textures. Always touching and exploring. She was no different now.

She gripped the worktable so she wouldn’t reach out to glide her fingers over his glistening skin. If Michelangelo could travel though time he’d cry for a fresh block of marble. Though she doubted even he could replicate the chiseled perfection of Russ’s body.

She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to say next never mind her own name.

“The wood?” Russ finished her line.

She looked up. His eyes were alit with amusement and his smile knowing.

Wood?
She would NOT lower her gaze. No. No. No. “Yes, do you think you can handle that?”

With his hand on the table, he leaned towards her. “I’m your handyman.”

Oh, what she could do with that line, but despite having a half-naked man running loose on the set, Design Intervention was a family show. She was proud that she recovered nicely and they finished the scene. “Did the producers tell you to go shirtless too?”

“Not specifically, but I did it all the time on my show back in Australia.”

Victoria knew that. Seen the clips on You-Tube. But that didn’t prepare a girl for seeing it live. In person. Within arms’ reach. She should go back inside so he could start the project. No, she should run. But she stayed rooted to the spot.

“Isn’t it a safety hazard?” She pointed to the power tools lining his workspace.

“I’m more worried about heat stroke. It’s hot out here.” Russ wiped his brow.

It certainly was. Victoria felt parched herself, but for an entirely different reason. She would offer him a glass of water, but she was afraid he’d only dump the contents over his amazing body. Or afraid he wouldn’t and she would do it for him. Her focus zeroed in on a garden hose ten feet away.

She wasn’t sure if she would spray it on him for her viewing pleasure or douse herself, like throwing water on a dog in heat.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you wore a bikini top.” He wore a lopsided grin.

“Really? I never would have guessed.” She didn’t hold back on the sarcasm.

“I’m just saying.”

“Trying to make us into the Baywatch of designs shows?”

“Not a bad idea.” Russ stroked his chin playfully. “Instead of rescuing lives, we rescue designs.”

Giving his frame a sweeping glance, “You’d fit right in as the head lifeguard.”

“And you—”

“Don’t even try it.”

“Are as beautiful as Pamela Anderson, but classier.”

Victoria tried to tell herself it was the heat causing her face to redden.

“And you got real boobs,” he added.

Victoria burst out laughing and she would’ve preened with satisfaction, if it weren’t for the fact that he hated the paint colors for the walls. “How can you tell?”

“For one, you don’t seem the type, and two,” his gaze lowered, “when you laugh they actually jiggle.”

This made her laugh even harder and she unconsciously covered said breasts with her arms.

Flirting with him fully clothed was risky enough, but with him half naked she’d felt herself softening towards him. Almost weak at the knees. Almost swooning.

Victoria drew back and straightened her spine.

“We need you for the next shoot,” said Stephen.

“I, um, have to go paint.”

“In those heels?” Picking up a power drill, he shook his head. “Now that’s a safety hazard.” Pointing to her shoes, Russ spun the drill, on then off.

Another one of those sexy grins sent shivers down her spine and in between her thighs.

Her gaze dropped down to his toned stomach, then speculated lower to just below his tool belt. He pressed the drill again. This time pointed up higher.

She jolted and, embarrassed, turned away almost tripping over herself. She made a mental note to pick up an economy-sized pack of batteries on her way home.

Chapter 10

R
uss measured and cut most of the boards necessary for the entertainment center. Needing a break he stopped the saw and wiped his brow. Giving into his curiosity, he covertly snuck over to the living room window to spy on Victoria.

Who was merrily painting away, her crimson mini skirt riding up each time she reached higher with the roller. Perhaps it was a trick of the heels she wore but her legs appeared shapely and long. He couldn’t hear any sound since the windows were closed, but her lips were bowed as if she were whistling.

With no one behind the cameras, he was surprised to see her still pitching in. He assumed she would paint of few strokes for show then let the grips finish it. Maybe she wasn’t a diva after all. Though Russ never saw a woman painting with spiked heels on. Yesterday she had run like an Olympic athlete in them. She probably knew how use them as a lethal weapon and he had a feeling she would die with the stilettos on like a cowboy and his boots. He wondered if she left them on during sex. Russ hoped so. He mind flashed a scene of him deep inside her as the points dug into his thighs.

Her petite feet had to hurt. Perhaps at the end of day he could offer a foot rub. He’d slip off the strap and massage the ache away. Little moans would escape her throat.

What color were her toenails? Juicy cherry red like her manicure? Like her lips?

He imagined slowly kneading his way up her shapely calves, then her tender thighs, up until he reached her panties where her moans turned needy and desperate. Until she had an ache of a different kind. An ache to match his own.

Startled by a knock on the window, Russ dragged his mind out of the gutter. Henry, one of the grips, faced Russ, pointing to an unaware Victoria who stood behind him, then waved his hand like it was on fire and mouthed the word ‘hot.’

Russ couldn’t disagree, not after the foot fantasy that scorched his brain, but neither did he want to look like a Peeping Tom. He motioned for Henry to send Victoria outside.

Before he could think up a reason why he needed to see her, she was outside asking, “What’s up?”

I am.
But Russ knew he couldn’t answer with the truth. What’s up, is something a woman should never ask a man.

“Russ?”

“Have you ever worked with the power tools?”
Good save.

“Only with disastrous results.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

“I sort of broke a window.”

“Sort of?” questioned Stephen who appeared out of nowhere. “The board went flying off the table and crashed through a patio door. Cost the show fifteen hundred bucks to replace it and put us behind a day.”

Russ laughed.

“I warned you it was a bad idea,” defended Victoria.

“Hah, more like you did it on purpose so you didn’t have to do it again.”

“That hurts,” she pouted.

Ava drove up, honking the horn, waving her hand out the window. Victoria’s face brightened with a smile to light up the whole set. As she ran over to the car, Russ hoped one day, no, one night, she’d give a smile that was just for him.