Suzanna shrugged. “It was too funny not to share, boss. Misty and I almost wet our pants laughing about it.”
Rachel shook her head. “Good to know my life is so amusing to you two.”
Misty laughed and Rachel felt the urge to prick her again. On purpose, this time.
“I would have paid to see you standing in the men’s department in your underwear,” Misty remarked, still chuckling. “Maybe on my next audition I’ll mention the story to the casting director and suggest they turn it into a movie.”
Rachel pointed the needle at the model/struggling actress. “You do and I’ll tell your agent you’re too difficult to work with and that you should be a hand model.”
Misty shrugged. “Hand models make a lot of money, you know.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the pink satin bra. Normally, she loved the good-humored banter the three women engaged in. Her studio was located in a downtown loft, which consisted of a reception area in the front, an office in the back and one spacious work room in between. Coming to work every day was a joy rather than a chore. She loved the bright, airy space, the mannequins scattered around, and the piles of lace, satin and other sensual fabrics she worked with. But most of all, she loved the company. Suzanna had been working for her for four years, and the two women got along splendidly. And now that Misty was around, laughter always filled the office.
But today, all the kidding and laughing was distracting. Yesterday’s conversation with Travis still ran through her mind like a broken record. He was going to help her find out what happened to Carrie, and although the truth called out to her, a part of her wished she could still blame Travis for it all. It had been so easy, so comforting, having someone to blame. That way, she could let go of the memories and try to move on. But now that she suspected Travis was right about not playing a part in Carrie’s suicide, Rachel felt like she’d been sucked right back into the past. And she didn’t want to be there.
What had the past ever done for her? Her childhood had been lonely and painful, her adolescence degrading. Her mother was a sad excuse for a human being; her sister had selfishly left her. All the past offered was heartache, shame, and anger. It had taken years of therapy to try to let it go, and now she was disregarding every shrink’s advice and delving back into a place she’d vowed never to return.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, Misty,” Rachel said quickly, realizing she’d yet again stabbed her model. With a sigh, she placed the needle on the pincushion next to her. “Why don’t we take a break? I’m a little distracted, and I’m scared I’ll seriously injure you.”
Misty didn’t answer, and as Rachel stood up and followed the young woman’s gaze, she saw why. Travis was standing in the doorway.
“Who’s the hunk?” Misty said loudly.
Rachel’s cheeks flushed again. “You do realize he can hear you?”
“So?” Misty tossed her long, blonde hair over her delicate shoulders. “You’re a hunk,” she said to Travis, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I know. My mother tells me that all the time.” The corners of his honey-brown eyes crinkled as a grin curved his wide mouth.
Rachel felt a spark of attraction tug at her belly as she watched him cross the loft. God, he was such an incredible-looking man. He wore a navy-blue T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and gave her a teasing glimpse of the ripples of his flat stomach. Faded blue jeans encased his legs, and a black sports coat was tucked under one arm. He looked good. Too good, she noted as her pulse quickened.
“Do you have a minute?” Travis asked as he approached.
Their eyes locked, and she almost trembled. She’d never believed all that junk about pheromones, but she could swear his scent was intoxicating. He smelled of spicy aftershave, Ivory soap and something that could only be described as masculine, and although they were standing feet apart, the delicious aroma tickled her nostrils and caused a lazy heat to dance across her breasts.
“Sure,” she answered. She glanced at Suzanna, then Misty, and saw both females eyeing Travis with blatant longing. “Let’s go outside.” Where we can be alone, she added silently. The loft provided no privacy, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on what Travis had to say when two pairs of eyes were undressing him.
Once they were on the front steps of her building, Rachel breathed in the warm September air. They’d been blessed with an Indian summer this year, and she hoped the weather would stay this way just a little bit longer. The winter months always depressed her, reminded her of the cold, snowy days that had kept her inside her mother’s house to bear witness to the degradation around her.
“So, what’s up?” she said, glancing at Travis.
“Can you get away from the office for an hour or two?”