Love By Design by Liz Matis Page B

night.” He leaned in like he was going to kiss her. “Did you?” As she leaned in to accept the kiss he pulled away. “Better not. Somebody might see us.”
    The disappointment on her face made him want to pull her into the bathroom, lock the door, and replace the look with pleasure.
    “We better get down stairs.” She tugged on her shirt and used her hands to smooth out the wrinkles.
    His gaze couldn’t help but enjoy her lovely cleavage. “Yeah, we better,” he said slowly, rethinking his decision to pull away.
    “It’s time for the sewing segment.” Her clipped, all business tone was back in her voice.
    It was all he could do not to kiss her, make her breathless so her husky, playful voice returned. Did she say sewing? “What’s that got to do with me?”
    “You’re going to learn how to sew. And act mad about it.”
    Russ followed her down the stairs. “That won’t be a problem.”
    ***
    W ith the cameras rolling, Russ eyed the sewing machine skeptically while rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I don’t know, Victoria.” As much as he liked to tease by calling her nicknames, on set he’d decided to use her given name lest his favorite one, cupcake, slip from his lips.
    “Just think of it as just another power tool.”
    “A power tool?”
    “Yes, like that jiggy thing.” She waved her hand toward Wood Working World.
    “You mean the jigsaw?”
    “Yes, except instead of cutting up something, you stitch two pieces of fabric together to make a pillow.”
    “It’s still sewing. Not that I’m sexist or anything.”
    “Of course not, who would think that?” Victoria rolled her eyes at the camera.
    He guessed he deserved that. But men didn’t sew; it’s simply not in the male genetic code. It wasn’t his fault, and after all, Victoria did call him a Neanderthal.
    “Look, it even has a really sharp needle that’s just as dangerous as that saw blade.”
    He didn’t appreciate the trace of sarcasm in her voice.
    “I’m not impressed.” He folded his arms in front of him playing the offended male. Though it wasn’t a stretch of his acting ability to do so.
    Victoria gave him a friendly slap of the back. “Sit,” she demanded in the same tone as she did last night when she ordered him to lie on his back.
    Russ responded the same in return. “Yes, ma’am.” He sat down on the stool in the front of the table. A smile tugged at her lips and he knew she was fondly remembering last night too. “This is going to ruin my reputation.”
    “Well, at least you don’t have to wear those goofy glasses.”
    “You mean as in safety glasses.”
    “As in a fashion disaster.”
    “Folks, I think I’ve discovered the real reason why Victoria won’t use power tools.”
    “No, I’m the brains and you’re the brawn.”
    “Then why am I sewing?”
    “To get you in touch with your feminine side.”
    “I can assure you I don’t have a feminine side.”
    Russ was glad they were getting along, but wondered what would happen when the cameras stopped filming. Would she treat him like he had the Ebola virus so no one would suspect they were lovers? He tried to concentrate on her instructions. His large fingers fumbled with threads and switches, unlike last night when he expertly stroked Victoria into a rocking orgasm.
    Her breast brushed innocently against his shoulder. It took everything in him not to turn his head and latch on with his mouth. Everything. So when he almost sewed the fabric to his finger he wasn’t surprised. Bloody hell, sewing was dangerous. No, it was Victoria who was dangerous. It was this woman who reminded him of an irukandji, a type of jelly fish back home no larger than his fingernail but packed an extremely venomous sting that he couldn’t handle.
    “Whoopsy. Let’s try that again.”
    “Maybe you should finish this up.”
    “No, no, I have faith in you.”
    Russ wondered if she was just saying that or if she really meant it. She placed her delicate hand over his and