“Nicholas get home okay?” he asked in a low, husky voice that warmed her inside and out.
Telling herself they were just being nice to each other because they were stuck here together for the duration of the storm, Erin nodded. “He’s upstairs doing homework.” She gazed up at Mac. “Can I get you anything?”
A sexy glimmer shone briefly in his eyes, as if he had an answer to that. One she wouldn’t want to hear. “I’m good. Thanks.” His glance trailed over the red-white-and-blue lady’s boot, emblazoned with stars and stripes, that she’d been designing. “What’s this?”
“A limited edition woman’s boot that will be prototyped in time for Independence Day.”
“Nice.” Mac sat down beside her on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “How many copies will you make?”
Damn, but he smelled good. Like soap and man and an ever-so-faint hint of expensive cologne.
Erin tried not to think about what it would be like to kiss him, which would have been a whole lot easier if he wasn’t giving off so many pheromones and didn’t have such erotically sculpted lips. Not that she was noticing... “We’ll stop at two hundred.”
“How long will it take to sell out?”
How long would it take for her to squelch the desire she hadn’t felt since she couldn’t remember when? “Once I put a pair up on the website and in the store? About a week.”
He continued to study the design. “I like it,” he murmured. “It’s...”
“Patriotic?”
“Very,” he drawled as he settled more comfortably beside her, his elbow briefly brushing hers. “And speaking of boots, when do you want to finish the order for mine?”
Erin put her sketchbook aside. “No time like the present.”
“Great!” He beamed.
Determined to resist the disarming smile he sent her way, she rose and strode purposefully toward the armoire. Maybe it was best they keep their mind on business, rather than anything personal. Heaven knew they had shared enough earlier in the evening.
“Ready to get started?” she asked, returning with an array of samples and a book of color photos.
He nodded. “You really love this, don’t you?”
Erin replied with a shrug, “I love the design work, helping customers figure out what they want and turning their wishes into reality.”
“Do you actually make the boot, too?” His voice was low and gravelly and sexy as hell.
Erin sat down beside him. “Sometimes I do.” She’d probably make Mac’s, because of the time constraints. “But for the most part, the four artists Monroe’s employs make the lasts and do the actual cutting and sewing and buffing in their home studios.” Erin opened up her satchel. “Any idea what color boot you want?”
“Dark brown.”
No surprise there. She fanned out a bunch of samples.
Mac stared at them, as flummoxed as most men when confronted with all those choices. “I had no idea there were so many different shades of dark brown.”
She pointed out the undertones in several of the shades. “There’s also a difference in texture. Crocodile or lizard skin is bumpy.” She placed his hand over the hide, so he could feel it, then moved it to the next. “Kangaroo is a little softer. Cowhide is more durable.”
“Which would you suggest?”
Erin shrugged. “Depends on whether you plan to use them for outdoor activity or the boardroom.”
“Both.”
“In that case...” She suggested a leather that was both soft and durable.
Mac smiled. “I like it.”
“Now for the shape. Do you want a full round roper toe? A semiround one? Or something more pointed, like a cut-back toe?” She showed him pictures. “Or perhaps something more rectangular in shape, like a French toe with a wide boxed end?”
“I prefer the wide boxed end. No scalloping or fancy stitching, though.”
Erin reached for her sketch pad. “How about something like this?” Sensing from what she already knew of him that he wouldn’t want anything too fussy, she drew a medallion and wrinkle across the toe of the boot, and a simple filigree around the top. The overall effect was understated and elegant.
“That looks good,” Mac said, satisfied.
“Do you want your initials on them? We can put them on the ear pulls, where they generally won’t be seen, or on the front inside quarter panel or the heel.”
“I think the pulls would be good.”
Erin made a note of that, then got out her calculator. She wrote up a bill of sale, then handed him the final tally. “We usually ask for half up front.”
“I’ll drop off a check at the shop tomorrow.” Which meant she’d be seeing him yet again.
Erin glanced at the clock, noting it was after eleven. Rain was still pouring down outside. For a long beat, no one said anything. He seemed as reluctant to call it a night as she was. “I had no idea it was so late,” she said.
Mac stretched lazily. “Me, either.” His voice was low, gravelly and sexy as hell.
She moved her gaze away from his sinewy shoulders and chest. There was no use dreaming about what was never going to happen. What she would never let happen. She swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat. Emotional barriers firmly in place, she asked politely, “Can I get you anything before I go up to bed?”
He smiled. “I’m good.”
“Well.” Her pulse quickening in reaction to his nearness, she closed her heavy satchel. “You know where the kitchen is. Mi casa es su casa and all that. Help yourself to anything you want or need. And I’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded, his easy acknowledgment cocooning her in warmth. “Good night. And Erin?” He held her eyes until her heart skipped a beat. “Thanks for the hospitality.”
This wasn’t the end of a date, even if it suddenly felt like one. Ignoring the telltale rush of heat inside her, Erin cleared her throat. “No problem.”
He smiled again, even more gratefully.
Tingling, she forced herself to turn away and head for the stairs. She was halfway to the second-floor landing when everything suddenly went dark.
* * *
MAC HAD THOUGHT the evening could hold no more surprises. Just showed how little he knew.
“Mac?” Erin’s soft voice came out of the pitch-black interior of the sprawling ranch house.
He pushed away the notion that she could easily become something to him. “Yeah?”
“Need a flashlight?” she asked.
“It would help.”
Damn, but it was black out here, with the rain still teeming down outside. No light whatsoever, anywhere, not even a distant flash of lightning. Mac put his hands out in front of him, wishing for night-vision goggles, and trying to feel his way.
“Where are you?” Erin’s voice sounded closer.
Good question. “Somewhere between the foyer and the middle of the living room,” he replied, hoping that Heather—and the other kids—would sleep through this. He didn’t want his daughter in another meltdown.
“Stay where you are,” Erin advised calmly. “I’ll come and get