“Before or after ‘Good morning’?”
“Oh, baby.” He stepped around the counter and took her in his arms at last. “Either way works.”
She put both hands on his chest. It felt good, but…“Wait,” she said. “I need to explain.” And he sighed.
“No,” he said, “you really don’t. I can take it from here.” She was warm, she was soft, and he had both hands on her lower back, pulling her into him. It felt just absolutely bloody fantastic.
“It’s a…” Her breath hitched, but that may have been because he’d pulled her hair away from her neck and was kissing her there. She smelled so good. She felt better.
“It’s a what?” he asked, then kissed her some more, because she was squirming a little now.
“It’s a…a short-term thing,” she said. “My, uh…” She sighed and squirmed again. “Transition person. Obviously.”
He didn’t want to lift his head. He did anyway. “Pardon?”
She said, “I felt ashamed out there, telling you all that. I still have baggage, obviously. You don’t want baggage.”
“I don’t?” He had thought something like that. It was hard to remember right now.
She still had her palms on his chest, but they were softer now. More like she wanted to feel him there. She said, “Of course you don’t,” and he struggled to remember what they’d been talking about. “I met Antonio when I was twenty-four, and ever since I left, for almost three years now, every time I’ve gone out with somebody—which hasn’t been that often, let me tell you—I’ve wished he’d go slower. And with you, I keep wishing you’d go faster. I keep having to hold myself back. It’s time to stop thinking so much and just do it. Just for now. Just for fun. The way you do things.”
He took a step back. “What way I do things?”
Her hand was in her hair, pulling it back, and he could see straight down the parting of her robe. He remembered how silky her thigh had felt under his fingers. He remembered how she’d moaned, too. “Casual,” she said. “We could be casual. We’d have to be, because of Jace and Paige. It’s my next step. Clearly, because Paige felt it, too. Sexually. So—clearly. Here you are, and it can be…secret. It can be safe.”
His mouth may have been open. “Pardon?” he said when he could manage it. “What does Paige have to do with it? Sexually? And you think this would be safe? It doesn’t feel safe to me. Feels like jumping straight off the rocks.”
“All right, the sex, maybe,” she said. “That’s what Paige was feeling from me, was what I meant. When you’re a twin, you feel what the other one feels sometimes, when it’s strong. Never mind. I have to tell you, though—I’m not much of an adventurer. You could be disappointed. I meant it’s safe because I know who you are, and you wouldn’t have to hide it the way you’d have to with somebody else, assuming you’re still trying to be anonymous. You’re here for weeks, and you can’t show another woman your body, because she’s going to recognize it. Your face, too. The way you smile. Your eyes, whether they’re blue or not. You’re too memorable. Too…spectacular. Especially if she’s touching you, looking at all of you. But we can trust each other, right? So it’s perfect.”
“Trust each other to what? I find myself just fascinated to hear what comes next.” He was still aroused as hell, because that tended to happen when you looked at the woman you wanted most, dressed in some barely-there lingerie and asking you to take it off her. He might be disappointed? Not bloody likely.
He felt all that, and he was burning, too. Both at once. Why was she talking about another woman touching him?
“Not to talk about it later,” she said. “Not to lie to ourselves, or to each other. I’ve always been too emotional. Ask Paige. Ask Antonio. He’ll be happy to tell you. But I wouldn’t have to be, not with you. It could just be exciting. Fun. Like karaoke. It could even be therapy.”
“Therapy,” he said.
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say? I’m kind of…” He could see her swallow, and he was still in those two places at once. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her. And he wanted to break something. “I’m kind of hanging it out here,” she said. “You know?”
“Why am I the choice?” he asked, hardening his stupid heart with a major effort. “Besides my spectacular body, of course. Let me guess. Because you can count on me to leave? And here I thought you didn’t believe everything you read.”
She shifted, then lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “Well, yes, that’s what I thought. You’ve been engaged once, and it didn’t work out. In fairly obvious fashion. And that’s as close as you’ve come. I thought—I’m desperately attracted to you, but lots of women are desperately attracted to you, right? You’re used to it. You’re kind about it, I’m sure.”
“You’re fooling yourself,” he said. “I’m not kind about it. I’m laughing about those girls. I sit around the pub with my mates and tell stories.”
“Now you’re mad,” she said. “I thought men liked it when you were upfront. I thought men—I thought you—wanted it free and easy. I’m not twenty-two, but I’m still pretty good, and I’m right here. You wanted to kiss me yesterday. You wanted to do more than that.”
“I did,” he said. “But that was before I knew I was disposable.” Crikey. He sounded like a—all right. He sounded like a disappointed woman.
“I didn’t say disposable,” she said. “I said—”
“Temporary,” he said. “Yeah. Maybe not. Come on, Chuck. Time to go.”
At least the dog thought he was special.
Bailey had gotten to Lily’s shop at the right time, but nobody had shown up. Not Lily, and not the other lady. Not Clay, and not Chuck, either.
Lily had said she should pick up Chuck, right? He was supposed to be here.
She didn’t need him to be here. Not really. It was just that Chuck was good for keeping you company. Sometimes the boys were hanging out at the park, and she could play football with them for a while, but not always. Girls didn’t go to the park as much, and girls never let her play anyway. Plus, they did stupid things that weren’t even a sport, like clapping your hands and slapping your legs. That looked sort of neat, but it wasn’t like she had to do it or anything.
Like yesterday, Chuck had been good to have around after she’d gotten the library books. He’d lain down on the grass beside the tree with her, and he didn’t even stink since she and Lily had given him the bath. Bailey had rested her feet under his body, and he’d rolled over so she could scratch his belly while he’d wiggled around with his back on the grass and made grunting noises, because he loved being scratched so much. And when two girls from her class came by and laughed and said something to each other, Bailey didn’t even care. So what? Maybe next year, in fourth grade, when she wasn’t new, she’d have a hundred friends. And anyway, she had Chuck.
Finally, a car pulled up in front of the shop. Lily. Not Chuck, though.
“Hey,” Lily said. She climbed out of the car the way she did everything, as if she was on TV. She even moved her hands that extra-graceful way, like the girls on the game shows did when they were showing off the prizes. “Come on in. Rafe’s—Clay’s—he’s bringing Chuck down in a few minutes.” She opened the door with a key, then said, “Come on back,” and took Bailey into the back room, where she shoved two sandwiches into the fridge and said, “I made too many again.”
Oh. Bailey felt dumb for not realizing yesterday. Lily had brought extra on purpose, but she thought that would embarrass her. Like when you had free lunch, they never said you were on free lunch in front of everybody, even though everyone knew anyway, so it didn’t matter.
Lily had a grocery bag with her. That’s where she’d gotten the sandwiches. She pulled out something that looked like a sort of dark Rice Krispies Treat wrapped up in plastic and said, “I forgot I packed this. Do you want it? It’s what I eat when I don’t have time for breakfast, but I did have breakfast this morning. Are you hungry?”
Bailey to
ok it, but she didn’t unwrap the plastic. Her stomach made a gurgling noise, and she was embarrassed, but Lily didn’t seem like she heard. Bailey asked, “What is it?”
“All sorts of good things,” Lily said. “Oats, dates, chocolate, almond butter, protein powder. Why, what do you like for breakfast?”
“Cereal,” Bailey said, unwrapping a corner of the bar thing and smelling it. It smelled OK. “At least I usually have cereal. If there’s milk. Or a peanut-butter sandwich sometimes.”
“Uh-huh,” Lily said. “This is pretty close, but a little better for you.” She pulled two cartons of eggs out of the bag next and put them on the table. “My chickens laid all these in the past three days. Pretty good, huh?” She opened a carton. “Brown and speckled. So much prettier than plain old white.”
“Do you cook lunch in here?” Bailey asked. “How? You don’t have a stove.” She nibbled a corner off the bar. It didn’t taste like a Rice Krispies Treat, but it was pretty good.
“No,” Lily said. “Those are for the food bank. I have too many for myself, so I figure I might as well donate them. I donate fruit and vegetables, too. Which reminds me—if you want to ride your bike up tomorrow after four, you could give me a hand again if you wanted. It’s my short day, and I can always use help in the garden. Chuck isn’t too useful. As a further bribe, the strawberries and apricots are starting to ripen, and as always, I planted too much of everything. You can take what you want.” She looked at her watch. “Twenty minutes until opening. Enough time to get started. Look what else. I thought of this yesterday. I sure hope you’ll be interested, because it sounded so fun.” She reached into the bag again and took out something wrapped in a plastic grocery sack and dumped it on the table.
A bunch of squares of cloth in different colors. There was one that looked like the sky at night, with stars. That was cool.
Lily pulled a paper packet out of the bag and said, “I found these patterns, and these fabric remnants, too. I thought you and Chuck might want to hang out here for a while this morning, and that you might want to learn to sew.”
She’d done one thing right today, anyway, Lily thought. It took a while, and some very casual explanation, but Bailey was going to sew herself a new T-shirt and a pair of fleece shorts. Lily could set up the serger and do the bindings around the neck and arms, but Bailey was plenty old enough to cut out and sew the rest. Lily couldn’t look at those dusty, smelly, too-short jeans another moment. They hurt her heart.
When Hailey came in right in the midst of said explanation, Lily was half-afraid of what she’d say, but she didn’t offer any arguments. Instead, she told Bailey, “Lily should let me teach you instead, hon. I taught the 4-H sewing class for twelve years. I quit when my girls got too old, but maybe I shouldn’t have, because I get all excited just thinking about it. Those girls had blue ribbons out the wazoo, let me tell you.” She did a twirl like a fashion model in her sparkly slides and said, “Not to mention this little number, which is pretty special, if I do say so myself.”
“Did you sew that?” Bailey asked, and Lily could see why. The deep-blue garment was hand-dyed silk with silk velvet pockets and a ruffled silk velvet collar. “How did you make the flower?”
Hailey touched the beading on the tiny pocket. “Fabulousness, that’s how,” she said, and Bailey laughed, the first absolutely unguarded moment that Lily had seen from her. She felt a pang that was surely jealousy, and set it aside. Hailey was good at making you feel special, that was all, and at making everything more fun. Exactly what Lily liked so much about her. As an employee, and as a person.
Fun. Or not. Right. She said, “I’ll go get ready to open up,” wiped her hands on her jeans in a surreptitious motion, and went out to find Rafe.
She was casual. She was cool. She was fine.
Casual, mate, Rafe told himself, climbing out of the SUV and actually getting Chuck to wait before lunging out to join him. Rafe clipped in the leash and thought, No worries. Also, Harden up. Who hadn’t kept his hands to himself in the first place and started all this? That would be him.
He got to the door at the same time as Lily. For one frozen second, they stared at each other through the glass. Then Chuck let out a happy bark, Lily pulled the door open, and Rafe stepped inside.
Lily got busy propping the door, not quite looking at him. She’d left her hair down today, nothing but a center part and all those amazing waves of blonde, and was wearing fitted, faded jeans with strategic rips, delicately heeled sandals featuring studded black leather straps around ankle and instep, and a gauzy white shirt that she’d half-tucked into her belted waistband. The shirt had lacy inserts, and it was clearly meant to see through, because he could see a black camisole underneath. With more tiny straps.
“If that’s meant to be less sexy than the dress from yesterday,” he told her, “it’s not working.”
“If that’s meant to be appropriate,” she said, “given that we’re on a strictly-business basis now, thanks to you, it’s a fail.” She crouched down, tucked her hair behind an ear with a pretty hand, and said, “Hi, Chuck. How are you, boy? Yes, it’s been a long time. Yes. Yes. Sit.” She was laughing, and she was giving Chuck a good rub around the head and shoulder area. Chuck, for his part, was ecstatic. Rafe couldn’t blame him. Lily looked up at him, smiled again, and asked, “What? I have to love somebody, don’t I?” Then she stood up, took Chuck’s leash, and said, “Back room. You’re going to hang out with Bailey, mister,” before turning to Rafe and saying, “Oh—hang on a minute, would you? I have a question.”
He had about four minutes before he needed to head out for his riding lesson. He hung on anyway. He watched Lily go, which was exactly as not-terrible as yesterday. No form-fitting dress this time. Form-fitting jeans instead. And then he watched her come back. She probably wouldn’t make it in the movies—too curvy, and not thin enough—but just about any man with a pulse would want her in his bed, and all those curves under his hands. And his mouth. Or just under him in general, because she’d look so good there, and she’d feel even better.
He was in so much trouble.
Did she look at him? She did not. Instead, she immediately started to do something with the cash register. “Hang on,” she said again. “Right. Done.” Finally, she looked at him, and if the remoteness in her gaze was infuriating, it was his own bloody fault. What kind of fool turned this down? “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you about this earlier, but Chuck’s got an appointment on Saturday at noon.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. With the—” She looked behind her at the closed door, leaned forward, and whispered, “Vet.” Was it just him, or did she seem nearly giddy? “Chuck’s going to get shots, and then I’m afraid he’s going to give up his man card.”
He was fairly sure he winced. “Ouch.”
“Yes, well,” she said, “I have a feeling it’s past time. Chuck isn’t what you’d call the self-controlled type. If he loses it, he won’t be able to use it. Always preferable.” She smiled at him. Cheerily.
“It’s intensely interesting, of course,” he said, “to listen to you torturing me, but I have a horse I need to fall off of. Thanks for the heads up. If Chuck is crossing his legs and breathing heavily, I’ll chalk it up to losing his manhood.”
“But you see,” she said, “I thought you could take him. As you said you have time, and we have that deal and all.” She smiled again. “Good luck with the horse today. Try to stay on.”
The air was close and heavy, metallic with the threat of an electrical storm, on a hot, sultry Saturday morning a couple days later. The fan overhead was whirring, not cooling the air quite enough, and the occupancy of Lily’s shop stood at eight. Herself and Hailey, and six other people.
One and Two. Two girls in their early twenties, probably on their way to Glacier National Park. They’d look at everything, then buy a few pairs of underwear. Maybe.
Never mind. Lily had been that age, and flat broke, too. Sometimes, looking was the only luxury
you had. Looking, and the rest of the senses. The intoxicating scents of lavender, neroli, and rose wafting from the diffuser into an intensely feminine space painted creamy white and dripping with crystal chandeliers, swaths of lavender chiffon draped around its display window, while classical music played softly in the background. Fingering silk and lace you couldn’t buy, and sighing over an impossibly delicate pale-peach bodysuit on the half-leg torso of a softly lit mannequin in a Venus de Milo pose, set on a draped table in the corner like an altar to femininity. Dreaming about a purely indulgent spa afternoon followed by a night of wine and candlelight, about lingering glances, the brush of hands across the table, and the promise of whisper-thin silk under the dress he couldn’t take his eyes off. When you knew it was your choice, and you knew how much you wanted it.
Dreams. They could be so much better than reality. The slow burn of desire and sweet anticipation, free from disappointment and disillusion. Let them dream.
Three and Four. The female halves of two couples who were, Lily knew from snippets of overheard conversation, staying in the throwback opulence of the Sinful Inn. The women were shopping and lunching today while their husbands got in some trout fishing before the storm. Happy in each others’ company and in their leisurely day. One of them held a Coach bag while the other carried Louis Vuitton, and Hailey had been back and forth to the fitting rooms three times already. They’d be moving some high-end stock for sure.
The kind of customers who kept the doors open. They were anticipating, too, but the edge was off for them, years removed from that first heady rush when you were finally able to buy those special things, when you showed them to somebody for the first time, heard him catch his breath and saw his eyes kindle, on one of those sinfully erotic nights whose memory kept you going when things had become a little stale. A night when you’d felt beautiful, and desired, and absolutely satisfied.
Tempting as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 2) Page 19