mannequins’ perky plaster bosoms and ducked under the scarves. He moved to the window, not wanting to distract Nicole, who was cutting into the vinyl with an angled craft knife, her brow furrowed with concentration.
She scarcely seemed aware that Sam was watching. When she was done, she straightened, rubbing her back.
“There. That’s done.” Nicole bent over the table again to check her notebook, and crossed out a few lines. “Now we put it all together.”
“Just tell me what needs doing.”
Nicole explained the next steps, and they got to work. Sam did his best to keep a gentlemanly distance. To wrangle the half-completed framework into the store window, they had to climb over it and each other, while Bob and Hank did the shoving.
Sam didn’t dare to look at Nicole’s curvy body, keeping his gaze on her face or the back of her head when he didn’t need to look at the work he was doing. That wasn’t as effective as he’d hoped. He held the framework in position, his arms extended and locked, while she tacked the vinyl in place, edging in front of him step by step.
“Don’t let go,” she said absently.
“I won’t.”
Then she turned within his outstretched arms, staple gun in hand to tack a projecting part of the framework. Sam could feel her breath on his neck. Hell, he could feel her eyelashes flutter.
Nicole seemed completely unconcerned. Might be all in a day’s work for her, but his self-control was seriously tested. He tried not to think about the reasons for that.
She dodged under his arm and jumped down from the window. “You can let go now,” she said.
Sam stepped to the side and rubbed his stiff biceps. Maybe he could volunteer for a solo task that the other two men didn’t want. But no, there was no way around it. They were a team.
She was a good boss and she knew her stuff, calmly telling all three of the men exactly what she expected them to do and when. The slight nervousness that Sam had chalked up to city-girl attitude vanished when they were in the midst of working.
By late afternoon, the window was nearly complete. Sam was tickled at being able to make the connection between her sketches on the napkins and the winter cityscape as it took shape.
The backdrop was simpler now, a rich, shaded blue that evoked twilight and brought out the whiteness of the artificial snow that drifted over the painted sidewalk. The greatly enlarged photo of the original storefront on the street had changed in the printing, its gray tones translated into graphic black and white that enlivened the foreground.
The doors and windows of the street scene were what Nicole had cut out in the vinyl, becoming display niches when she used spray adhesive to attach the vinyl to the finished framework. Accessories were tucked in each niche: sparkling bracelets, coiled scarves in gleaming silk, belts with elaborate buckles. Here and there, delicate crystals were glued to fine details of the vintage photo to attract—and delight—the eye.
The old record player had been transformed into a skating rink with white paint and drifts of snow, complete with paper people in tiny metal skates and one little dog.
Nicole installed the lamp last of all, but not where anyone could see it from the street. The lampshade frame was now covered with heavy paper in which she’d made a number of cutouts. She switched it on, and it began to revolve from the warmth of the bulb.
“Let’s go outside,” she told Sam. “That should do it.”
“Lead the way.”
She went ahead of him, eager to see how it all looked. Neither of them stopped to put on a jacket.
From the sidewalk the full effect was breathtaking. The hidden lamp cast soft bits of light that looked exactly like falling snow on the deep blue backdrop. The cityscape was silhouetted against it, the niches glowing with light. The rink revolved, as charming as a music box. She had even added a young couple, also cut from paper, gazing in the window of the storefront
She scarcely seemed aware that Sam was watching. When she was done, she straightened, rubbing her back.
“There. That’s done.” Nicole bent over the table again to check her notebook, and crossed out a few lines. “Now we put it all together.”
“Just tell me what needs doing.”
Nicole explained the next steps, and they got to work. Sam did his best to keep a gentlemanly distance. To wrangle the half-completed framework into the store window, they had to climb over it and each other, while Bob and Hank did the shoving.
Sam didn’t dare to look at Nicole’s curvy body, keeping his gaze on her face or the back of her head when he didn’t need to look at the work he was doing. That wasn’t as effective as he’d hoped. He held the framework in position, his arms extended and locked, while she tacked the vinyl in place, edging in front of him step by step.
“Don’t let go,” she said absently.
“I won’t.”
Then she turned within his outstretched arms, staple gun in hand to tack a projecting part of the framework. Sam could feel her breath on his neck. Hell, he could feel her eyelashes flutter.
Nicole seemed completely unconcerned. Might be all in a day’s work for her, but his self-control was seriously tested. He tried not to think about the reasons for that.
She dodged under his arm and jumped down from the window. “You can let go now,” she said.
Sam stepped to the side and rubbed his stiff biceps. Maybe he could volunteer for a solo task that the other two men didn’t want. But no, there was no way around it. They were a team.
She was a good boss and she knew her stuff, calmly telling all three of the men exactly what she expected them to do and when. The slight nervousness that Sam had chalked up to city-girl attitude vanished when they were in the midst of working.
By late afternoon, the window was nearly complete. Sam was tickled at being able to make the connection between her sketches on the napkins and the winter cityscape as it took shape.
The backdrop was simpler now, a rich, shaded blue that evoked twilight and brought out the whiteness of the artificial snow that drifted over the painted sidewalk. The greatly enlarged photo of the original storefront on the street had changed in the printing, its gray tones translated into graphic black and white that enlivened the foreground.
The doors and windows of the street scene were what Nicole had cut out in the vinyl, becoming display niches when she used spray adhesive to attach the vinyl to the finished framework. Accessories were tucked in each niche: sparkling bracelets, coiled scarves in gleaming silk, belts with elaborate buckles. Here and there, delicate crystals were glued to fine details of the vintage photo to attract—and delight—the eye.
The old record player had been transformed into a skating rink with white paint and drifts of snow, complete with paper people in tiny metal skates and one little dog.
Nicole installed the lamp last of all, but not where anyone could see it from the street. The lampshade frame was now covered with heavy paper in which she’d made a number of cutouts. She switched it on, and it began to revolve from the warmth of the bulb.
“Let’s go outside,” she told Sam. “That should do it.”
“Lead the way.”
She went ahead of him, eager to see how it all looked. Neither of them stopped to put on a jacket.
From the sidewalk the full effect was breathtaking. The hidden lamp cast soft bits of light that looked exactly like falling snow on the deep blue backdrop. The cityscape was silhouetted against it, the niches glowing with light. The rink revolved, as charming as a music box. She had even added a young couple, also cut from paper, gazing in the window of the storefront
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