Only by Your Touch

by Catherine Anderson

  And so began one of the most delightful tours in Chloe’s memory. The store was laid out in sections, and in each, a Christmas tree, beautifully decorated for the holidays, held court. All the ornaments were for sale. Small hand-painted dog ornaments hung from one tree, cats from another.

  “Oh,” was all Chloe could say when they came upon a dollhouse section where several assembled kit houses, decorated gaily for Christmas, were displayed on electric turntables. Chloe bent to admire the detail. Each little house was lighted from within, and the surfaces of the turntables had been landscaped like yards. “Look, Jer, there’s even a milk can on the porch.”

  “Welcome to the world of miniatures.” Hattie gestured at the shelves. “Everything you see can be purchased here. The houses must be assembled, of course.” She pointed to a workbench. “Many people want the entire display just as it is, so I do the work and charge a handsome price.”

  “How fun!” Chloe loved to do crafts.

  “That’s exactly what I hoped to hear.” Mrs. Perkins led them deeper into the store. After giving them a full tour, she led the way back to the front. “I’m not as young as I used to be. I’ll have to sell my shop soon. In the interim, I’m looking for a responsible person to manage the business for me.”

  Chloe couldn’t help but feel excited. Okay, so her aspirations weren’t very high. Working in a Christmas wonderland had a lot of appeal. Stop, she cautioned herself. The pay couldn’t be very good, even for a manager. And she’d only stopped in to check it out, after all. The instant she heard, “Minimum wage,” she’d be out the door. “I hate to ask, Mrs. Perkins, but what’s the pay?”

  “The manager will receive a percentage of the daily gross, plus an hourly wage.”

  Chloe glanced over her shoulder at two couples that had entered the shop. She heard the women making appreciative sounds as they explored with their husbands. In only a couple of minutes, the shoppers had made their selections and approached the register. Chloe couldn’t believe her ears when she heard Hattie tell each husband that his tab was well over a hundred dollars. Even more amazing, the foursome left looking pleased.

  The moment the door swung closed, Hattie smiled and said, “Here’s the deal. Five percent commission, plus minimum wage.”

  There they were, the death words: minimum wage. Only Chloe wasn’t heading for the door. Five percent? Her brain went into warp speed as she tabulated the take on the last sale. Slow down, she cautioned herself. This place couldn’t possibly get a steady flow of customers.

  “I do a booming business here, all year long,” Hattie added. “Practically everyone loves Christmas. This is a resort community. When people are on vacation, they enjoy buying Christmas pretties as mementos of their stay. I also do a steady business with locals.”

  Chloe recalled the many times she’d wanted to come in here to look around. The Christmas Village definitely had curb appeal.

  “I’m looking for someone very special,” Hattie went on. She smiled conspiratorially at Jeremy. “Someone who loves the magic of it all and believes in Santa Claus. Jeremy, would you, by any chance, like the job? Or better yet, maybe you’d like to come in during the day and help your mom.”

  Chloe squeezed her son’s shoulder. To work where Jeremy would be welcome sounded too good to be true. “If the money’s adequate, I’d enjoy working here,” she assured Mrs. Perkins. “I love Christmas. I always have. It would be fun to be surrounded by that feeling all year long.” She glanced around. “Even dusting the merchandise would be a pleasure.”

  “Dusting is a never-ending task.” Mrs. Perkins looked directly into Chloe’s eyes. “There’s a catch,” she said softly.

  Chloe had been afraid of that.

  “I’m looking for someone who may be interested in buying the shop in a year. I’m getting old.” She rubbed the back of a gnarled hand. “It’s time for me to scale back. My husband and I want to travel.”

  Chloe’s heart sank. “I see. Well, that counts me—”

  Hattie cut her off. “This place has given me a wonderful income for many years, but it’s time to relax a little and enjoy my husband.”

  Chloe had recently had a similar discussion with her parents. “You really shouldn’t wait too long, or you may not be in good enough health.”

  “Exactly.” The older woman nodded decisively. “I’d like to find a buyer who’ll work hard at learning the business, someone who’ll love this shop as much as I do.”

  “I can see myself loving it,” Chloe said with a laugh. “I just can’t afford it.”

  As if she hadn’t spoken, Hattie said, “If you’re the person I’m looking for, the finances can be worked out. I’m willing to give you a one-month trial period. If it goes well, we’ll discuss the possibilities. I can guarantee that you’ll earn enough in commissions to support yourself and your son while you save enough to make a respectable down payment on the business at the end of a year.”

  Chloe’s stomach clenched.

  Hattie raised her eyebrows. “I’ll carry the contract. For the right buyer, I will adjust the terms so the payment won’t be too steep.”

  Chloe didn’t know what to say.

  Hattie smiled slightly. “I like you, Chloe Evans. I’ve always made decisions by the seat of my pants, and when I opened this shop, it was no exception. It seems only right that I end the way I began, going on instinct. If you’re interested in my shop, how soon can you start?”

  When Chloe got home, she had mixed emotions, part of her wanting to dance with excitement, another part almost afraid to believe. If Hattie Perkins was on the level, she had a job! And not just any job, but one that would enable her to buy a business. She was so thrilled that she almost hugged the breath out of her son several times. After feeding Jeremy and putting him down for the night, she was still floating on a cloud when the phone rang. It was a little after nine, and she couldn’t think who might be calling. She’d spoken with her folks three evenings before, and her brother and sister called only once a month.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, there. Call me a worrywart. I had to call and check on you.”

  Ben? Chloe was surprised. Then, almost as soon as she registered the thought, she wondered why she should be. If it was true that bad luck came in threes, why couldn’t the same hold true for good? The first time she’d seen Ben Longtree, she’d felt strongly attracted to him. How many other times had a man made her feel that way? Exactly once. Maybe she had been destined to move to this magical little town, and maybe she was supposed to have quit her job and stopped by the Christmas Village to inquire about the position there. And maybe, just maybe, the best part of all had been meeting Ben Longtree.

  “Are you there?” he asked.

  Chloe laughed. “Oh, yes. Sorry.”

  “Are you okay? No problems with Bobby Lee, I hope.”

  “No, none. I didn’t even see him when I stopped by to clean out my desk.”

  “That’s good. And how are things otherwise? You sound—I don’t know—different. Is there a problem?”

  “No, no. I had a slightly heated discussion with the sheriff. Dumb me. I had it in my head that I needed to report Bobby Lee’s transgression.”

  “I take it he didn’t appreciate being enlightened?”

  “He’s known Deputy Schuck for twenty years. Need I say more?”

  “He’s the stupid one, Chloe.”

  “Yes. The good-old-boy system is busily at work. I knew last night that I’d get nowhere, filing charges. I’m too new in town. He’s been here all his life. I did my duty by reporting it. What the sheriff does with the information is up to him. I’m ready to close that chapter now and move ahead.”

  “Good for you. It’s better forgotten.”

  Chloe was dying to share her news, but she was almost afraid to say anything for fear she might jinx the deal. “I’m feeling fantastic tonight. Well, maybe I should qualify that. If everything pans out, I’ll feel fantastic.”

  “Now you’ve piqued my
curiosity. If what pans out?”

  “I think I’ve got another job—a fabulous one that may turn out to be the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “Details.”

  “You’ll laugh. It’s one of those situations that sounds too good to be true, and men are always such wet blankets about such things.”

  “Bite your tongue. And I promise not to laugh.”

  Hesitantly, Chloe recounted her conversation with Hattie Perkins. When she finished, Ben said, “That’s wonderful news. Hattie is a neat lady.”

  “You know her? I mean, well, obviously, in this small town, you probably know her. But do you know her well?”

  “I used to work for her when I was in high school. Evenings. I dusted merchandise. It’s a fabulous shop, isn’t it? And she’s not pulling your leg about the business she does. That place is always hopping.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. If she’s willing to sell to you on contract and tailor the terms, how can you pass it up?”

  “I just can’t believe she offered it to me. I mean—why?”

  He chuckled. “Only you would ask. All anyone has to do is look in your eyes to see your heart shining through, and it’s a warm heart, to boot. I think Hattie has made the perfect choice.”

  Chloe felt as if she’d just gotten a telephone hug. What was happening here? When she counted the days, she knew she hadn’t known Ben all that long, but it seemed as if she’d known him forever. When she remembered how wary she’d been of him in the beginning, she could only laugh at herself. She never should have listened to Lucy Gant.

  Ben ended the conversation by saying, “I’m happy for you, Chloe. This calls for a celebration. I have some champagne that I’ve been saving for just such an occasion. Would you mind some company?”

  Chloe’s hand flew to her hair. “I, um—sure, why not?” She could slap on some makeup before he got there. “If Hattie Perkins is for real, this does call for champagne. I’m so excited I’m about to bust.”

  “Maintain the mood, and I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

  When the phone clicked and went dead, Chloe stood there for a moment, smiling at the receiver.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ben arrived fifteen minutes later with champagne on ice. When Chloe answered his knock, she could only stare for a moment, wondering if the darkness beyond the threshold was playing tricks with her eyes.

  “Your hair,” she said stupidly.

  He stepped inside. “I got my ears lowered.” He smiled slowly at her. “Does it look that bad? I let Mom cut it.”

  “Your mom?”

  “I figured she needed the distraction. It kept her from worrying about why the sheriff hadn’t called. I finally convinced her that the man she saw was probably doing something harmless—like burying a shirt with lipstick on the collar that he didn’t want his wife to find.”

  Chloe gave a startled laugh. “With an imagination like that, you should be a writer.”

  He grinned and shrugged. “Maybe so. The haircut got her to thinking about something else. She wandered off only twice. It was a little worrisome at one point when only half my head was done, but she finally came back on-line.”

  “She did a great job. I’m just used to it long. It looks good.”

  Very good, she thought. The headband had vanished, and his black hair, shorn to a much shorter length, lay in disarray over his high forehead, the mussed strands gleaming like polished jet. He seemed taller somehow, and he looked handsome and sexy enough to be illegal. It was just—well—he looked so different from the Ben she’d come to know.

  He juggled the burden in his arms. “Champagne on ice causes frostbite.”

  He’d stuffed the bottles into plastic bags filled with ice cubes, which he held close to his chest. He went to the kitchen and set the bags in the sink. Chloe rose onto her tiptoes to retrieve two wine goblets from a shelf.

  “Sorry,” she said as she set them on the counter. “When I was hitting garage sales, there were no crystal flutes available.”

  “After the divorce, you didn’t get half the household belongings?”

  Chloe had felt fortunate to escape with her skin intact. “I’m a peace-at-any-cost person. What Roger didn’t get, I sold to pay his medical and credit card bills.”

  “He’s still able to live by himself?”

  “Yes. In my opinion that’s a mistake, but I’ve got no say-so anymore.”

  She couldn’t stop staring at his hair. He looked so different—like someone she barely knew. The woven sash that he’d always worn had been replaced with a wide leather belt, and he was also wearing western boots.

  “What happened to your sash and moccasins?”

  “I retired them to the closet and unearthed my old standbys. I caught a glimpse of myself today and decided I was carrying the Shoshone look too far.”

  Chloe suspected there was more to the story. Jeremy would be disappointed. He’d been working so hard to get the Ben Longtree look perfected.

  The thought no sooner settled in Chloe’s brain than another came hard and fast on its heels. “Oh, Ben,” she said softly.

  He shot her a wary glance. “What?”

  “You did this because of Jeremy.”

  He ran a hand over his hair. “Let’s not go there, okay? I got a haircut. No big deal.”

  “I thought you refused to wear leather for moral reasons.”

  He rested a lean hip against the counter. “He’s been copying me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Other kids will make fun of him. I know what that’s like, and I don’t want it happening to him.” He shrugged. “I disapprove of killing animals for food or clothing, but sometimes you can carry things too far. Millions of people in this country consume beef. The hides will be used to make leather goods whether I wear leather or not. You have to pick your battles.”

  “I can’t believe you’d do this for my son.”

  He finally met her gaze. “He’s a good kid. I’m fond of him. It’s hard enough, moving to a new school, without stacking the deck against yourself. Maybe he’ll get rid of that silly shoestring now and start wearing sneakers again.”

  “True, and that will be good, I suppose. It’s just that I don’t like to see you compromise your ideals this way.”

  “You can’t have him looking like that. The other kids will crucify him.”

  Chloe sighed and conceded the point with a nod. Smiling up at him, she said, “The haircut looks fabulous. I liked it long, but it’s attractive this way, too.”

  “The hair doesn’t make the man. Neither do the clothes.” He raked his fingers through the thick strands. “It’s a lot less troublesome, cut short. It was always falling in my eyes, even with the headband.”

  He began peeling away the foil from one champagne bottle to reveal a wire doohickey over the cork. Using his thumb, he gave it a hard push. With an explosive pop, the cork cannoned from the bottle and hit the window above the sink. The glass shattered as though a cannonball had struck it.

  “Shit!”

  Chloe leaped back. Glass went everywhere. When her initial shock subsided, she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Ben just stood there, the bottle still aimed at her window, his dark face a study of incredulity. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  Laughing so hard she could scarcely breathe, Chloe clamped an arm over her waist. He slanted her a mock glare. “You think it’s funny? I busted your window.”

  She nodded again and managed to squeeze out, “I noticed.” She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “It’s just—the look on your face. Priceless. I’m sorry.”

  He set the bottle on the drain and shook champagne from his hands.

  “At least you didn’t hit yourself in the nose.” Her voice went shrill. “Did you see that movie?”

  Smiling, he shook his head as he filled the glasses and handed her one. “Congratulations on the job.” He touched his goblet to hers. “Bottoms up. Dra
in the glass, or it’ll bring bad luck.”

  “I’ve never heard that one.” Chloe wrinkled her nose as she gulped down the champagne. Ben immediately gave her a refill. “Whoa! I’m a lightweight.”

  “To the future. I hope it all works out, and you’re a wealthy business owner five years from now.”

  Chloe couldn’t pass on a toast like that. As she lowered her empty glass, she felt the warmth of the alcohol moving through her, and she smiled. Setting the glass aside, she said, “I was too excited to eat much dinner. On an empty stomach, that stuff packs a punch.”

  His glass joined hers on the counter. He moved toward her. Before Chloe realized what he meant to do, he cupped a hand over the back of her head and hauled her up against him. This time, he wasted no time on preliminaries. He just took her mouth in a deep, searing kiss.

  Chloe went from laughter to yearning so quickly that her brain barely registered the change before her body ignited. The force of her need alarmed her. She’d believed herself incapable of ever wanting a man again. Wrong. The heat of him—the hardness of him. She suddenly wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything.

  Just a kiss, she promised herself. There’s no harm in that. When it was over—after she’d gotten just a taste of him—she’d pull away and end it.

  She dug her fingers into his shoulders, pressing her body to his. He slipped his free arm around her, his hand splayed over her side. He was fire and ice, making her burn with need and shiver with delight. That tingling warmth she’d come to associate with his touch moved through her in waves. She felt as if she’d been plugged into a high-voltage socket and every cell of her body were being charged.

  Suddenly she couldn’t think, didn’t want to think. When he moved his hands under her top—when she felt his palms on her bare skin—she stepped up onto his boots to gain height, hugged his neck with both arms, and hungrily feasted on his mouth, reveling in the thrills that pulsed so wildly through her system. His hand found her breast. Yes. She wanted this, needed him. The layer of nylon and lace that protected her nipple from his clever, searching fingertips was such a frustration that she wanted to scream. There. Oh, yes, just there, she thought dizzily when he captured the sensitive protuberance and teased it with light rolls of his fingers that sent electrical buzzes through her body.