into adulthood, got a taste of Travis, then went back to depriving herself. She exploded. They wouldn’t need a piñata at this party—they could just collect little pieces of her off the ground.
Finally, Travis seemed to realize her predicament, because his smile slowly melted away. “Hey.” He licked his lips, his eyes a little unfocused. “Think about the time you spent an hour making the perfect hopscotch before Stephen and I sprayed it away with the hose.”
When that reminder did nothing to cool her lust, Georgie knew she was in big trouble, but she did her best to pretend his method had worked like a charm. “You’re right. I’m making you a really ugly dog,” she murmured. “With a gas problem.”
“That’s the spirit. Although I’m not sure how you can translate that on canvas.”
“Where there’s a will . . .”
Turned out, Georgie’s will was pretty strong, because she made Travis ugly as sin for the first time in his life. Through the magic of art, she made his cheeks look like heavy jowls, his nose stumpy. His flinch when he looked in the mirror sent the parents and children alike into a riot of laughter, providing her with no small amount of satisfaction. But nothing stopped the raw, physical draw she felt pulling her toward Travis. Not even the dog face. She’d always found him the most attractive man on the planet, but now she knew he walked the walk. Knew he could fulfill hungers inside of her she hadn’t even been aware of.
Even though it was against their one, single rule, her body wanted to go another round.
Her body wasn’t her biggest worry, though. It was her heart. She was a smart girl capable of objectivity, right? Now if she could only maintain that objectivity while Travis stared at her like a meal, she’d be golden. Was he the only man alive who could get to her like this? Watching him as they packed her party gear in silence, she couldn’t even conjure a decent memory of Pete’s face. Although Pete would no longer be an option as soon as word spread that she was seeing Travis, would he?
She waited for the regret, but it never surfaced.
“Hey,” Travis said, shouldering her carrying case and falling into step with her as they left the backyard. “I’m glad I crashed the party. I knew you were good, but I didn’t realize you ran the whole show like that. It’s a lot of work.”
“Thanks.” Wings of surprised pleasure beat in her chest. “It wasn’t always so organized. My first year of clowning was more like a series of mutinies. I’m still scarred.”
“Kids are no joke.” A beat passed. “This job hasn’t put you off having your own?”
“No way,” she said without hesitation, a smile curling her lips. “It makes me want them more. That look on their face when the cake comes out and everyone sings happy birthday. It’s like you can see a memory forming in their head. It’s magical.”
She could feel Travis watching her closely. Why the sudden interest? “Your mother made me a cake for my thirteenth birthday,” he said. “Only one I’d ever had.”
Georgie stopped walking, a fist taking hold of her throat. “She did that?” She barely checked the urge to bury her face in his chest and sob. “What color was the icing?”
He laughed without humor and glanced away. “Yellow. With white writing.”
Travis’s body language told her not to press any deeper. That he’d already given her more than enough for now. But God she wanted to. She wanted to relive all her earliest memories of Travis, but know what he’d been thinking this time around. “You see? Magic memories.”
“Yeah.” With a swallow that lifted his Adam’s apple, he set the carrying case down behind the trunk of her car. “How do I get this paint off my face?”
“You don’t. I switched to permanent lacquer when your back was turned. Good luck commentating with a dog face.”
“Very funny.”
“I have questions about our plan.”
“Wow, you really just jumped in feetfirst.” He stepped closer. “Fire away.”
Georgie pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach. “We’re going to be doing a lot of canoodling, so to speak, for the cameras,” she said quietly, in deference to the man not so discreetly snapping shots of them beside his blue Honda about forty yards away. “Let’s say you drive me home and someone is following us. They’re going to expect you to come inside. And . . . what if s-e-x just