NAUGHTY BUT NICE

by Jill Shalvis

  "Maybe next time, then."

  "Yeah." His knees were actually knocking. Shocked at how much he wanted her, when she wasn't what he wanted at all, he pulled away, closer to the lantern. He needed to see things clearly, damn it, he needed the electricity back on. The dark was lending an intimacy to this little episode that he didn't need. He opened his mouth to say his goodbyes, maybe even offer an apology for barging in on her, for giving in to temptation, but Cassie had backed away, too.

  No longer were her eyes open and warm. No longer was her body loose and relaxed. Instead she stood there staring at him as if he was the lowest form of life.

  "What?" he asked, his head still spinning from their kiss.

  She pointed at him with the dildo. "You're on duty."

  Hadn't he already said so?

  "I … hadn't really realized … you're in uniform."

  Confused, he glanced down at himself. "Usually, this shirt is a turn-on for women," he said, thinking to tease because he was at a loss to understand her.

  Not that he wanted to. No, what he wanted … well, that was as dangerous as understanding her.

  "I'm not your usual woman," she said.

  Wasn't that the truth.

  "I'm not turned on by bad attitude and authority."

  "Bad attitude?" He had to laugh. "I thought that was you."

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned away, but not before he caught a quick glimpse of her own confusion. Her own pain. It stopped him in his tracks. But then he caught more than that. He caught a good look at the back of her, and nearly had heart failure.

  There was no back to her outfit. It dipped down in an open scoop far past her waist, so low that if she so much as shifted he was going to get quite the view. There the outfit would have resembled a pair of hot shorts, except the words "hot shorts" were too conservative. In any case, the scant material divided the most delicious-looking butt cheeks he'd ever seen.

  "You've done your civil duty," she said in a voice as cold as the south pole, which was in such direct opposition to that hot body he could only stand there gaping like an idiot.

  "I'm not breaking and entering," she said. "I'm not speeding. There's really no need for you to be here."

  Well, that much was true. As a cop he had no need to be there. But he glanced at his watch and was rewarded by the time. "I'm off duty."

  She peered at him over one creamy shoulder and he lifted his wrist to show her. "It's five minutes past midnight, which was when my shift ended."

  "A cop is always a cop."

  Why was she so angry? Risking life and limb he came close again, reaching out to touch her cheek. "I'm just a man." A man who would die for another kiss.

  She shifted away. "A cop."

  Her skin had been warm. Soft. And he wanted more, but she was still backing away. He snagged her hand, knowing she was far too proud to look weak and to try to pull free. "I don't take my work home with me, Cassie. When I'm standing here with you like this, I'm not working."

  She let out a laugh he was sure she meant to be harsh, but it came out more as a question, making her seem … vulnerable.

  But why? Why was she wary of him? Was it him as a man or as a cop? Either way, his gut clenched.

  She wasn't as tough as she wanted to be, and that was a huge shock. He thought he'd had her pegged; knowing he might be wrong about her was more than a little unsettling. Knowing that this hard-as-nails, gorgeous woman could be vulnerable did bad things to his resolution to stay away from her. With a little tug, he brought her closer still. Now he could smell her, all warm and clean and sexy female. His body went to war with his mind. His mind wanted to know more about her. Not his body; no, that part of him just wanted to haul her close. "Someone in a uniform hurt you," he guessed.

  She lifted a shoulder, neither denying nor confirming, and a part of him actually ached. "I'm sorry," he said, and found himself startled to realize he meant it.

  She lifted that shoulder again. "Don't be too sorry, Sheriff." She lifted the red dildo. "I was going to tease the hell out of you with this bad boy."

  He stared at it, felt his mouth go dry again as his penis jerked to hopeful attention. "You could still try."

  The smile on her lips didn't meet her eyes. "Nah. The fun's gone." She stared pointedly at his hand on hers until he let go. "Good night, Sheriff."

  "Good night, Cassie."

  She waited until he got to the door. "You might think of me tonight," she said softly. "I'm taking Big Red home, along with a pack of batteries."

  He groaned, and in tune to her low, satisfied laugh, he let himself out.

  * * *

  Two weeks after her arrival, Cassie was still keeping herself busy. She was in charge of readying the store, while Kate handled the inventory, getting lots of beautiful, sexy lingerie from her business partner and designer Armand.

  Cassie made more calls to Kate, did more cleaning and painting. There was more delivering by Daisy in her UPS outfit and sweet smile.

  It should be illegal to be sweet and innocent in Pleasantville.

  Cassie had the Bare Essentials sign made, and the day it went up was fun. It gave her great satisfaction to stand directly beneath it and pretend she didn't see the commotion it caused.

  Up and down Magnolia Avenue

  , which had been designed for pleasant foot walking, people came out of the woodwork and stared.

  "They're talking," Daisy whispered. "About … you."

  "Always." Cassie looked at her. "I'm sure you've heard the stories."

  "Well, sure. You're a legend."

  Cassie laughed. "A legend, huh?"

  "No, really. You're a homegrown hero come back to her roots. You made something of yourself."

  "I made something, all right." But Daisy didn't smile, and Cassie had to wonder … was she just imagining all the malicious curiosity? Her gaze met Mr. Miller's widow from across the street, where she stood just outside the deli. Frowning.

  Nope, definitely not imagining it. But … she did have to admit, most of the negative energy was coming from the older generation.

  Maybe that was simply because Cassie hadn't been around long enough to taint the younger one.

  Since no one dared ask, she put up another sign, this one in the window, saying they'd open for business in two weeks.

  "Two weeks?" Still wearing her apron, Diane came out from the Downtown Deli and stood under the sign. "Cool. I'm not sure what you're selling, but I have a feeling Will's going to love it."

  Cassie stared at her as Diane simply smiled and walked away. But then she shook it off. She had work to do.

  Two weeks in which to get the place ready to go. It would be a challenge for both her and Kate, but they were up for that. For Cassie, she needed something to keep her mind off her career, off the trouble that had brought her here.

  Off the sheriff.

  Because really, who would have thought such a man could melt bones with a simple kiss? A simple touch? But there had been nothing simple about either his kiss or his touch. She'd underestimated him, that was certain, and it wouldn't happen again.

  Unless it was on her terms, of course.

  Those terms were simple. If she could keep the control, if she could drive him crazy and walk away, then perfect.

  Otherwise, she wasn't interested.

  Time to get back to work. Work. Not really a decent description for what she'd been doing because she'd actually been enjoying herself, all the way down to dressing the part of a co-owner of a ladies' shop. She'd pulled out all the stops in that department, wearing some of the more outrageous clothes she'd collected over the years.

  Take today, for instance. Her halter top had nothing but three straps across her back and her leather pants looked as if they'd been spray-painted on. After all, everyone expected the daughter of Flo to look a certain way—why not give it to them?

  "Excuse me."

  "Yes?" Cassie turned around on the sidewalk and faced a woman. She was dressed simply
in jeans and a sleeveless blouse, little to no makeup, and looked to be around thirty. There was a two-year-old clinging to her hand. "Can I help you?"

  "Are you going to sell…" The woman blushed a little, and bit her lower lip.

  Cassie sighed. "Let me make this easy for you. Bare Essentials will be a fully stocked women's store. If you're embarrassed to ask for it, chances are good that we'll carry it."

  The woman nodded, then laughed at herself. "I'm sorry. My name is Stacie Harrison. I've been wanting to introduce myself."

  Probably wanted to satisfy her curiosity about the new harlot in town. Behind Stacie, literally hanging out of the Tea Room, were Mrs. McIntyre and her sister Mrs. Hampton. Their mouths were turned down in disapproving frowns. Cassie lifted a hand and waggled her fingers at them.

  "Well, I never," one exclaimed.

  "Really? You never?" Stacie tsked. "That's just a shame, ma'am."

  Both of them let out a collective gasp and, with daggers in their gazes, vanished back inside.

  Cassie turned and stared at Stacie, who giggled. "Are you insane? They're going to make you miserable now."

  "No one can do that but me," Stacie said calmly. Whatever. Stacie's social suicide was none of her business. Cassie had a shop to open. She was doing this, and people needed to just get used to it. Turning to enter her shop, she stopped when Stacie put a hand on her arm.

  "Did you know we're neighbors? I live three doors down from you on the hill. I made you cookies last week but my ex-husband—the jerk—called and annoyed me, and I ended up eating them all myself. With Suzie here—" she smiled down at her toddler "—I haven't had a chance to make another batch."

  "You … made me cookies."

  "Yes." She smiled brightly. "My ex is a surgeon, you see. And he was boinking the X-ray tech. But the good news is I got the house."

  Cassie let out a startled laugh.

  "Anyway," Stacie went on, "I like to cook off my stress. I was going to bring them to you, maybe sit down with a glass of iced tea or something, and talk."

  "I don't drink iced tea."

  "Oh, well, that's okay." Stacie smiled. "Water would have worked."

  What the hell was this woman's angle? "If you want to see the inside of Flo's house, all you have to do is ask. You know what? I'm thinking of conducting tours." She could make a fortune. Too bad it wasn't money she needed.

  Stacie looked confused in the face of her sarcasm. "Flo? Who's Flo?"

  Right. "You don't know my mother?"

  "Should I?"

  "She lived in the house before I did."

  "Oh. I saw her a few times but I'm sorry to say I didn't have the pleasure of meeting her. And…" She looked around to make sure they were alone. "You know, I always wanted to live there, up on the hill, but to tell you the truth, now that I'm there I'm realizing it's awfully quiet. I'm going stir-crazy."

  Uh-huh. The ex-wife of a surgeon. Mother of … a very sticky-looking kid. Bored? Cassie didn't believe it. Not in Pleasantville. No, the town she knew like the back of her own hand didn't breed nice, compassionate people. It bred smallness. Meanness.

  And she was here to repay that in kind. "I've got to get busy."

  "Sure. I'm hoping to bake again tonight. If I do, I'll stop by tomorrow."

  "Uh-huh." Maybe Cassie should give tours of just the bedroom, show everyone the mirrored ceilings. Wait. Maybe they should sell mirrors to put on the ceilings!

  "See you tomorrow then." Stacie smiled. "I'm glad we met."

  Before Cassie could process the words, Stacie walked away, swinging her daughter's hand.

  She was glad they'd met.

  But how could that be?

  * * *

  Cassie spent the rest of the day and the next readying the interior of the building. She'd been working on it all week, paying for manual labor when she had to, using high school seniors who were grateful for the cash.

  And who didn't remember her from her youth.

  She was sure their parents did, and wondered what they thought of Cassie now, paying their sons to do work for a Tremaine.

  Then wondered why she cared. She didn't care. Not one little bit.

  Oh, damn them all anyway. It burned like hell that she'd never accomplish that last thing on her list. In this town's eyes, no matter what, she'd never become someone.

  And it burned even more that she thought about it. It angered her enough to forego the cheap labor for the day and to do it all herself. The boys seemed quite disappointed when she'd told them to go. Cassie wasn't sure if that was because of the cash she paid them, or her overalls, under which she wore a comfy, but very skimpy, crop-top.

  Didn't matter. They were gone and she was alone. Contrary to popular belief, she was very capable of hard work. She loved hard work.

  The alone part was a little unnerving since she wasn't exactly here in town for a picnic. But surely she was safe.

  She really wanted to think so. She had to think so.

  She stood on a ladder, paint splattered across the front of her designer cargo overalls, enjoying the paint fumes, when her cell phone rang. She unclipped it from her belt and let out a happy smile at the Caller ID. "Kate, my love, you should see this delicious shade of pink I found. It simply screams 'come in, you must buy a new sex toy.'"

  "I'd love to see it. How does next Friday sound?"

  Cassie's grin widened. "You're coming!"

  "I'm coming," she agreed, but with a surprising lack of enthusiasm. "I can't miss the grand opening, now can I?"

  Cassie set down her brush and backed down the ladder. "What's the matter?"

  "Nothing."

  "Kate."

  "Can't a girl just call her favorite cousin?"

  "I'm your only cousin. Spill it. Does it have anything to do with that guy you saw when you were here? The one you won't tell me about?"

  "Jack? No."

  "Then what?"

  Across the miles, her cousin sighed. "You remember how before you left, you arranged to have all your mail forwarded to me for the duration?"

  "Yes." Cassie's heart kicked into gear. "So no one could locate me through the postal service while I'm here. What's the matter, are my bills piling up?" Her mouth was suddenly dry. "You were going to just send them on to me, and—"

  "It's not your bills."

  "Too many magazines, huh?" Oh, God. Please don't let it be what she feared.

  "It's not the magazines, either. Though I am enjoying Playgirl, thanks."

  "Okay." Cassie pulled off the painter's cap and let her hair fall free. She sat on an unopened five-gallon can of paint and unhooked one side of her overalls for freedom of movement. "Let me guess…" She was surprised at how fast her pulse could race. "You got a letter from him."

  "He's not happy you've vanished from the face of the earth, Cass. He's scaring me."

  He was scaring her, too. Peter. One of the first men she'd met when she'd gone to New York. He was a photographer, and he'd taken her first publicity shots for a price she'd been able to afford—a date. They hadn't slept together because unlike Flo, Cassie had her own personal standards, which included never sleeping with a man when business was involved.

  So they'd become casual friends. And as Cassie's career had boomed, she'd done her best to get Peter jobs. Occasionally, while between relationships, he'd drink too much and try to tell Cassie she was the one for him. She always gently turned him down, knowing his next girlfriend was right around the corner, and she'd always been right.

  Their friendship had sustained.

  Until now.

  Now, he was her stalker.

  Cassie shivered. Though she was not a woman to let fear run her life, this guy truly got to her. Enough to have uprooted everything.

  Hard to admit she'd been stupid enough to actually trust a man. And look what it had gotten her. He'd taken her away from her career, away from her life, and sent her back to a town she was fairly certain wasn't ready for her. Wouldn't ever be ready for her.

 
"He says he's never going to stop looking for you, Cassie," came Kate's stressed voice. "You are the only one for him, and if he can't have you, he says no one else can, either."

  Okay, now her heart was ricocheting off her ribs. She'd known he'd never really recovered from the last dumping by that waitress/actress-wannabe.

  And this time, unlike the others, he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the fact Cassie wasn't interested in him that way.

  Not only not interested, but good and truly scared. He'd broken into her place. Touched her things. Left her a threatening note on her mirror in her own lipstick. You're mine.

  Then he'd vanished. Which is why the police hadn't been able to get to him. Which was how she'd ended up with a restraining order, and then landed herself here. "I'm okay here, Kate. I never talked about my past with Pete."

  "Are you sure?"

  "What do you think?"

  Her cousin actually let out a relieved little laugh. "Yeah. How silly. Thinking you'd open up and tell someone about yourself. Much less open up to a man."

  "He has no idea I'm not a native New Yorker. Even all those years ago when I first got started, he had no idea."

  "Okay, but I'm still coming. I want to see you. It's been too long. And I want to do more to get the store ready—the opening will be a thrill. Can't miss that, or the chance for some good old-fashioned revenge. And then there's my mom's house. I have to take care of that situation. I talked to Flo and I'm going to stay in her half of the duplex, since Mom is renting out her side."

  "And you know all of Flo's old furniture is in my garage. We'll haul it out for you when you get here."

  "Which won't be until Friday so I'd feel better if you'd tell someone there what's going on."

  Cassie snorted. "Who am I going to tell, someone in the Tea Room?"

  "How about the sheriff?"

  "I'll see you soon, Kate."

  She sighed. "Love you, Cass."

  "Love you, too." Cassie clipped the cell phone back onto her belt and stared sightlessly across the future Bare Essentials. Kate was worried.

  And damn it, so was she. Big time.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

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