Chasing Temptation

by Lane, Payton

  In those hours, not once did she falter. It was like watching an ice skater deliver seamless moves that you knew took days, months, years to perfect. She asked about children's grades, grandparents' health, all the while ringing up purchase after purchase.

  The crowd dwindled as night won the battle over day, and not once did he catch a moment of irritation or exhaustion on Lynne's face at the endless line of customers. She had to be a saint.

  At least twice she had to clear her throat, almost as if reading his thoughts about a particular customer. Only when she finally excused Jeremy, locking the doors behind him, did Lynne truly acknowledge Nate.

  “I could be snarky right now, but I'm just too tired.” She placed her hands on her hips, eyeballing him. She let out a breath, then asked, “Do you want a nightcap?”

  “Yes,” he practically begged.

  She motioned for him to follow her to the office. He collapsed into the chair sitting opposite the desk, like he had that first day, but this time he closed his eyes, silently wishing someone could cut off his feet.

  He heard the clink of ice cubes and didn't ask how ice cubes were possible. He opened his eyes when she grunted. Nate took the glass filled with what looked like scotch and tried not to gulp it.

  “Not used to hard work?” She smirked at him.

  “I work very hard. Just not in suits. Today I hadn't planned on it.”

  “But curiosity got the better of you.” She slid onto the desk, crossing her legs.

  Again, like the first time they’d met, he perused the bare legs, down to her bare feet. A deep red polish graced her toes. He almost reached out to caress them. He gripped the glass in his hand and knocked back the rest.

  His mouth still felt dry, but he felt somewhat steadier. “What I can piece together is that, overnight, you visited all the shops along this street,” he said. “You propositioned them with a kickback, I'm sure. All they had to do was mention to their customers they would get seventy-five percent off.”

  “You're quick.” Lynne lifted her glass. “Didn't think with all the work you'd be able to pick that up. But you're wrong. I went to one shop and the word spread. But aren't you curious about the kickback?”

  “Money.” The answer was simple.

  Her laugh washed over him. “You have so much to learn about me and this town. It was a bet. Yes, money in a way, but more so that I could make the newbie on the block work for me as long as the owners sent people to my store. For a sale, of course, but not a dime had to come out of my pocket to persuade my fellow co-conspirators.”

  For a moment he forgot about the pain in his feet. “You're kidding?”

  “Got a thirty-year-old bottle of scotch for my sass.” Her eyes filled with triumph over the rim of the glass.

  He glanced down at his empty cup. She'd given him a taste of her spoils of war. God, he didn't want to like her.

  In a measured tone, he said, “I'm surprised how you maneuvered this wager. Kind of have to respect you.” He gave her his empty glass. She placed it next to her hip.

  “You underestimated me. Want to count sales slips for the day?” She lifted a brow in challenge.

  “Refill my glass, and I will sit here while you gloat.”

  She slipped off the desk, taking his glass with her to the corner of the office.

  She gloated. “I'm guessing over five thousand, but I may be low-balling.”

  “You're low-balling.” He relaxed despite the fact she was his competition. “I will eat crow today, but it doesn't change the end result.”

  The light in her eyes didn't dim. “That I will win.” As she handed him the refilled glass, their fingers brushed.

  “What makes you so sure?” He forced himself to ask. The brief moment of their fingers touching left him unsettled.

  “What makes you?” she countered.

  He leaned forward, not because she had perched on the desk again, allowing him a view of her thighs, legs and feet, but to make a point.

  “I've done this again and again. I'm guessing you didn't look me up. You really should so you know what you're up against. I can read your tells. I can almost smell a competitor’s uncertainty, their desperation. I've never named a price that someone wouldn't take.”

  “As I recall...” A corner of her lip turned upward into a crooked smile. “I shot yours down.”

  Her hand was steady as she took a sip of scotch. She made a sound of appreciation, and placed the glass back on her thigh. Lynne's tongue ran over her top lip, catching the stray liquid before it trailed down her mouth.

  Nate knew she hadn't done that on purpose. Nor that sound. The unconscious actions became that much more sensual.

  He wanted to know how she tasted with scotch on her lips. The thought should have made him sit back out of reflex.

  Awareness flickered in her gaze; not of what she'd done and his reaction to it, but of him as a man. As someone who could be, and should be, desired. She cleared her throat, but neither of them moved.

  All he had to do was drag her down and lean forward. God, it was the stupidest thought he’d had since...Shit. Since ever, but despite that, Nate rose and leaned forward.

  The ice in the glass had cooled her lips, but they warmed at his touch. He gripped the cup in his hand like it was a hold on his sanity, but then she parted her lips on a sigh, granting him entrance to her dark and wet depths.

  Need, not curiosity, got the better of him. He parted those creamy thighs that had taunted him moments before. He nestled there and in her mouth like he belonged, like he had somehow found home.

  When she moaned, her breath caressed his tongue. Nate leaned closer. He couldn't get enough of her. He wanted to be consumed, lost in this moment. He bit into her bottom lip and teased it with his tongue. She enveloped him with her scent and taste without trying, until he didn't want anything else but Lynne.

  *****

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  Lynne was kissing Nathan. And it was good. Her toes were curling and she didn't even have shoes on for them to curl in.

  This man took repressed passion to another level, but oh. The hardness pressed against her apex made her wet, made her want things Lynne knew she shouldn't dare sample.

  But each time his tongue delved into her mouth, her mind blanked and she forget why she shouldn't be loving this, with this man. Why she was damning herself to hell for this kiss.

  But...

  Oh, God. Oh, God.

  It didn't seem to have an end, and the heat between her thighs grew, beckoning for some sort of relief. The control he exuded by not going headlong into the kiss drove her mad. She craved wild and unbidden, in her foreplay and sex, but this slow journey of going over the edge made her want to pop the buttons on his shirt one by one.

  He sank his teeth into her bottom lip, and she actually whimpered. Suddenly his warmth was gone. Lynne hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes, but opened them to find disgust on Nathan's face as if she’d just confessed that she used to be a bearded lady.

  “I’m sorry that was so unprofessional of me,” he said, and Lynne was sure she'd had heard him wrong.

  “What?”

  “I need to go.” He avoided her gaze and left without his suit jacket and with her glass.

  Kissed to the point of losing reason then abruptly abandoned in less than a minute. Had to be a record. The office suddenly felt lonely. Well, not alone. There was a very big bottle of scotch promising to keep her company and to erase the taste of Nathan from her mouth.

  On the verge of savoring the taste of him again, she slid off the desk. Her hand shot out to keep her upright. Her knees had actually gone to jelly.

  “Who knew?”

  Lynne trailed her hand along the desk until she reached the small refrigerator. She pulled out the scotch, crooked it under her arm, and decided it was time to buy one of those expensive showerheads and put it to good use.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Nate prowled his rented living room the next day. He hated t
o think Lynne had shaken him enough to call Sylvia for a brainstorming session, but she had. Both stores didn't open until ten in the morning, so an eight o'clock meeting gave them enough time to review and reflect.

  “Yesterday Lynne...” He stopped and paced to the other side of the rented living room, which was easy to do since the room had only the bare essentials. “Ms. Kelley proved that she would fight me and that she has the clout to do it in this small town. No need to be alarmed.”

  Okay, that wasn't for Sylvia, but him. This woman was getting under his skin, and he couldn't afford to lose focus on this deal. Especially this deal.

  “I saw the line,” Sylvia said and shrugged. “But that doesn't mean your plan won't work. It's worked every time.”

  Nate almost said he didn't know if it would. He changed directions to pace the other way and had to squint from the harsh light coming from the window.

  Sylvia kept talking. “I mean, if it doesn't work, we can always find another store.”

  The thin control snapped. “We can't. It's this store or nothing. It's this store or we have failed. Moving on is not an option.”

  A moment too late he heard the insanity in his words. He moved over to Sylvia. She'd worked for him all these years, but she didn't know. He had never shared the personal side of his overall plan. She knew he wanted to sell the collection of stores to the highest bidder, but never the why of it.

  “It's complicated,” which he never thought would come out of his mouth.

  The main reason had to do with the expression Sylvia now wore. Her brows practically touched her hairline.

  “Okay,” she said. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  He didn't succeed in sounding less crazy, but he still couldn't work his mouth into revealing the why. The why had left its scars on him years before he even met Sylvia. It had forced him to make student loans that at one point in time he couldn't imagine paying back. It had made him the man he was today. Lynne wouldn't be able to sum up his why in fifty words or less.

  Christ, he was thinking about her again.

  “Sylvia, you've been working for me for a long time.”

  “Eight years,” she replied stoically. “Who's counting?”

  The caveat forced him to stop pacing. Something had been off about her since they came to town. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Fear. The kind of expression one sees on the faces of actors in scary movies crossed her face, except hers was authentic. “Nothing.”

  She wouldn't lie to him. He brushed off the thought before it took root. She didn't share, much, about her personal life It was the type of relationship he liked, but she wouldn’t lie to his face.

  “I think we need to get to know the locals here. They seem to be loyal to Lynne.”

  “She's lived here for quite some time.” Her tone still held a hesitance.

  He finally sat down across from her in one of the wooden kitchen chairs. “That presents a problem, but nothing we haven't dealt with before.”

  “True.”

  He heard the question in her answer. “But?” he asked.

  “Ms. Kelley has a vested interest in not selling the store. An interest that goes beyond dollar value and that automatically presents an underlying problem.”

  Who was she telling? “That's what this impromptu meeting is for. To figure out ways around her reasons. Get her to sell.”

  And, so finally, I can go home.

  “Where do you want to start?”

  The knot in his stomach loosened. He could do this. He'd done it a hundred times before.

  He gestured to the file, sitting next to Sylvia. “Let's look at the numbers again.”

  After Nate spoke the words, the panic receded. The motions of tried and true methods eased any left over fears. His technique wouldn't fail him now. He wouldn't let it.

  *****

  Considerably tense, Lynne concentrated on trying not to kill Jeremy. He approached another customer, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

  Lynne couldn't take it. Standing at the counter, with a pile of clothes that needed to be re-folded, she called him over.

  He excused himself and approached the counter. “Hey, Lynne,” he said, just chipper and perky.

  She leaned forward, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “You have got to stop with this chipper act.”

  The smile faltered, and instantly Lynne realized she'd gone over to the dark side, sucking joy from anyone around her, but today she couldn't help it. The night before, it wasn't until she got to the hardware store that she remembered where she lived.

  Purchasing a super showerhead and being a single woman in a small town was not a good thing to do if she wanted to quell any rumors. Needing a super showerhead after spending most of the day with Nathan at her side...an even worse thing to do. She rubbed her temple, cleared her throat and tried again.

  “Ignore me.”

  She turned around and headed for the back door. The old craving for nicotine hit her. She sunk her nails into her palms. It had been almost ten years since she chucked the expensive, death-ridden habit. Man, only deep-seated, in-the-bottom-of-her-gut stress made her crave.

  The door shut with a clang behind her. Closing her eyes, she searched for inner peace. Lynne tried not to snicker at the phrase center your inner chi, but, regardless, the phrase helped her find equilibrium.

  Lynne opened her eyes and looked down the back alley to her left. Rows of other buildings on both sides framed the short back street. Large trash bins cluttered most of the space. But only one thing drew her gaze. One man really.

  Unsure if she was holding her breath or couldn't breathe, Lynne decided there had to be a special place in hell for Nathan Craine. If he wasn’t Satan himself, then he was a right-hand man.

  The muscles in his shoulders flexed. Her mind could have been playing tricks on her, but a droplet of sweat rolled down his neck, down, down only to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. It was an illusion because he wore a shirt. More or less. One of those excuses for a tank top that did little to hide his muscled physique. Nathan looked lickable. Just biteable. Lifelong embarrassment or not, she was going to buy a showerhead at the end of the day.

  But she couldn't tell him that, or even show the urge on her face. So she crossed her arms and marched toward him.

  She threw at him, “What do you think you're doing?”

  “Taking the next step to put you out of business.” He climbed into a truck filled with boxes.

  Lynne narrowed her eyes and perused farther into the truck. She knew silk garment bags when she saw them, even from ten paces.

  He hopped out of the truck, forcing her to step back. She wouldn't touch him. Couldn't touch him, because the action was off-limits. It was a bad idea and a number of other things her mind couldn't think up at the moment. Thankfully his large, wide palms were cupping a box, making the point of them touching moot. Except the flex of muscle in his forearms made her mind wander and imagine him cupping her ass in the same way.

  Oh, good God.

  “You can help.” He smiled and went toward the back of his shop.

  The suggestion came out too breezy. Was this a trick? Payback to get her to work for him? No. Nathan had come into her store on day one and told her he planned to sup on all the local virgins' blood. And, of course, buy her store. He played this game too straight for underhanded. Given she had tricked him into helping her the other day, with the icing of him seeing her tally up sales, a few boxes wouldn't hurt. She grabbed one and followed him in.

  Holy crap.

  The man wasn't playing nice anymore. A few boxes her foot. The stock room that just a few days ago looked anorexic now had a nice influx of steroids. She placed the box down and faced the smirk she knew would be pulling at the corner of Nathan's mouth.

  Ah, there it was.

  “Well,” she bit out, “I wish you the best of luck.” And that you find the nearest bridge to trip and fall from.

  He
crossed his arms. Her eyes followed the movement, watched the flex of muscle in his forearms. She quickly met his gaze again.

  “Now, that's not being a good sport,” he said.

  “What? I didn't say anything but best of luck.”

  “That's not what your tone said.”

  “My tone speaks now?”

  “So does your face. You wear all your thoughts and emotions on that oval-shaped face of yours. You should watch that around me. I will use it to my advantage.”

  She mimicked his stance. “You keep telling me how big and bad you are; I'm starting to think it's nothing but a bluff. I'm sure all the stores you brought over to the dark side basically wanted some bigwig to buy them.”

  “True, but there were a few that put up a fight.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Hit the web and search you.”

  He pointed at her face. “See that there.” He moved forward and pointed to her forehead. “Was fear.”

  She resisted the urge to rub her forehead because, dammit, she was afraid. He was so sure of everything. Sure she would lose. So sure she'd give in and lose hope. And if she did? If she couldn't hurdle over this obstacle, her best friend's store would mean nothing but dollar signs.

  Her word would mean nothing. All her hard work, flushed down the drain once adversity showed its face. She might as well have married the man her parents chose and become a testament that individualism was a dream.

  Lynne lifted her chin. “See that there.” She moved forward, pointed to his chest. “Is empty.”

  He flinched. Mr. All Business flinched at the comment. She wanted to take the words back. She didn't play dirty. That was her old life and not even hers, but her father's.

  Nathan's jaw flexed for a moment. “I think it's best if we come up with some rules.”

  “I don't do rules. I'm sure you’ve noticed.”

  “We won't get personal,” he forged on as if she hadn't spoken.

  She gritted her teeth. “Last night you were the one who got personal.”

  “I was drunk.”

  His expression didn't even change as he said the lie. She laughed. “Is your middle name Denial?”

  “I hadn't eaten.”