Chasing Temptation

by Lane, Payton

  “You're buying your own damn booze at McNally's.”

  “Aren't you grouchy? Can't even be mad about that though. See you in a bit.”

  Shaking his head, Greg entered the store. He'd expected a saccharine fragrance to greet him but there was a crisp, clean scent he couldn't quite place. The outside display had only hinted at the creative way the owner laid out her—yes only a woman would have this kind of decoration—merchandise.

  Although he'd rather get his prostate examined without lube than to do this, he had to respect the passion shown in every nook and cranny. Her place was eclectic and kind of nice.

  And empty.

  He strolled to the counter and glanced up at the chandelier. Yup. Her sign would sparkle at night. With a scowl furrowing his brows, he hit the service bell. While he waited, he pulled the ring box out of his jean's pocket and slapped it on the smooth, cool surface.

  No need to look at it and have regrets and doubts about the decisions in his life, the women he chose to love. He could do that without opening Pandora's box. Hell, his cousin had practically dragged him here. He had been bitching for a long while. If Greg kept that up, he'd probably turn into one of those bitter men who thought all women were lying whores. He hated those guys.

  If not for the woman who waltzed out of a back room, Greg would have let his mind drift down that dark and ugly road.

  But how could he? The woman had a poise that made him think she must have been a dancer in a previous life. She glided across the room in a long, tight-fitting dress, the sway of her hips was almost hypnotic.

  The top of her head might actually reach his nose and that was with flats. The wild ebony strands of her curls easily made her the same height as him. Her face was both hard and soft, rounded angles and sharp contours. Her brown irises lit when she made eye contact with him. Her dark-honey toned skin held a glow.

  Then she smiled and he knew without question that lift of her lips had brought many men to their knees. Her smile simply said, “Come have fun with me.”

  Greg didn't hate her on sight, but he definitely wanted to find a different jeweler.

  “Good afternoon,” she said in a voice that was both solid and gentle. She sidled up to her counter, her posture elongated and straight. “What can I help you with today?”

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Something he should have said as he backed out the door, but the ring had felt like an anvil in his pocket the entire car ride. He didn't want to pick it up and take it home. He'd held onto the ring long enough, and he damn sure wouldn't understand where shit went wrong anymore than on the day Abigail had returned the ring.

  With a flick of a finger, Greg pushed the velvet box closer to her. “I'm here to sell this. I'll take your best offer.”

  Her expression remained bland, professional as she opened the box. If not for the millisecond of her eyes widening, he would have believed her nonchalant facade. “Twenty-four carat white gold instead of platinum. Traditional, yet not. Four carat diamond in a princess cut.” She made an inquisitive noise and drew an eye glass from behind the high shelf of the counter. “Is there a reason you brought it here instead of where you bought it?”

  He'd bought the ring from a family friend who owned a store. They'd given him a discount even though he could afford the asking price. Greg would be asked all the details of the broken engagement while being offered condolences. He wasn't just searching for closure, he wanted the book slammed shut on that chapter of his life.

  “I'm shopping around for the best price,” he easily lied.

  Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “This ring means nothing to you?”

  Now. It had meant the world a year ago. “Can I get a fair price or not?” The question came out much sharper than he'd intended. See. A dickish moment.

  She set down the glass and ran a finger over the cold diamond. “Depends on what you mean by fair.” Her tone was just as modulated and soft. She hadn't even flinched at his cutting question.

  He hated to like that about her. “What do you mean by fair?”

  “A few years ago a widower came into my store,” she began with a conversational air. “His daughter was getting married. He wanted to take the stones out of his wife's ring and use the stones in a necklace she could wear on her wedding day. I added sapphires for the blue.”

  The tension holding his shoulders lessened. And that was his big problem. He was a romantic. Still. Greg said, “The necklace would be something old, new and blue.”

  She smiled that smile of hers, coaxing him to smile back against his better judgment. And maybe even the temperature in the room rose a few degrees because he suddenly wanted to tug at his shirt's collar.

  “Exactly,” she said like the star pupil had raised his hand. “Now what would be a fair price to him?”

  But he couldn't be a romantic anymore. So he tried to ignore the fact she had a smile that could raise a man from the dead. Or just raise a man. “Whatever he could afford, I guess.”

  She frowned at his answer as though disappointed. “You could say that. Anyway—” she snapped the ring box closed, “—I need some time to look over the ring, verify a few things about its authenticity. I usually only carry unique jewelry, but I may be able to contact some people and sell this for you. Come by tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” He must have sounded as frustrated as he felt because she smiled again.

  “It's a process. The first step is paperwork.” She pulled a clipboard from under the counter and handed it to him. “I'm going to need your contact information.”

  While he did that, she waited patiently for him to finish, not filling up the silence with inane small talk. And maybe he was feeling perverse at that moment, but he didn't want it. Words spilled out before he could stop them. “How long have you owned your store?”

  “About five years now.”

  She didn't elaborate and that made him want to dig for more information. “What were you doing six years ago?”

  When she didn't answer right away, he glanced up. Her teeth worried her bottom lip. Her mouth was full and free of lipstick. His mouth started to itch as her nervous gesture became the new thing to hypnotize him.

  No telling how he was looking at her, but her breath hitched. “Taping my toes and doing pirouettes. You?”

  Ah. He'd been right. She'd been a dancer. He let his gaze travel back up to her eyes. Her eyes looked wider, softer—like a woman who just had great sex. Noticing her reaction didn't mean anything. Definitely didn't mean he had to act on it. She'd asked him a question. Concentrate on that. “Six years ago I was giving advice to rich men about how they could recoup on their market losses.”

  “Sounds fun,” she said in a dry tone.

  “Soul-crushing,” he added honestly, “then I quit to give advice to struggling small businesses on how to make more money.”

  Something like respect flashed in her gaze, darkening her irises. “Now that sounds heartening. And it says a lot about the man you are.” She gestured to the clipboard. “Are you done?”

  He blinked at the sudden end of their conversation. Though he was grateful she'd put them back on task. The quick compliment had started a warmth in his gut. If he spent one more second holding her gaze, no telling what stupid thing he'd do.

  “Yeah,” he said and his voice sounded gruff.

  She touched the back of her neck in a nervous gesture. Her hair was wild and curly. The itch pestering his mouth moved down to his hand. What would it feel like to fist his hands in those strands and jerk her mouth up to his? His mind offered plenty of vivid comparisons. None involved clothes.

  None Greg would act on because he only wanted to sell the engagement ring. “Let me get out of your hair then.”

  She dropped her hand and tried to hide her laugh with a cough. “I have plenty of it. You're fine.”

  She had an unassuming charm that could tempt a saint. He liked to think of himself as a good guy, but he damn sure wasn't a saint. Greg's voice came out rough. “Still...�
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  “See you tomorrow,” her words came out in an excited rush.

  He hesitated, letting the situation sink in. He had the urge to flirt with a woman while attempting to sell his ex-fiancee's engagement ring. How damn ironic?

  No. He definitely hadn't become a monk the past year. Yes. He most definitely avoided anything that resembled a real relationship.

  And...and she didn't fit the criteria of the women he’d dated as of late. Someone that soft, solid and charming didn't go for one-night stands. If he'd learned anything from Abigail, he'd learned to never string anyone along. No matter how sour the taste in his mouth became, he'd never let someone believe he wanted the house, kids and forever unless he meant it.

  The jeweler was cute—no, breathtaking. She was different and had his blood going for more than just sex. And still he wouldn't want more than one night. He wasn't ready for anything other than that.

  So, he finally muttered, “Tomorrow.”

  As soon as he stepped out of the store he sucked in a long breath to dispel the tension, the ache and all the after affects of her. An attractive woman who was funny and could smile like that probably made most men forget themselves.

  Moment over, he drew up short at the sight of his cousin lounging against the car. Drew's feet and arms were crossed. His contemplative expression was troubling at best. It meant he was plotting. His cousin tended to think ten steps ahead of most people. Greg cursed softly.

  Drew pushed off the car, his face etched in frown lines. “Flirting with the store clerk?”

  The words hit their mark. He stalked forward. “I thought you went to the cell phone store?”

  “Changed my mind.”

  He said the next to throw his cousin off. “Thought you were worried about someone seeing you.”

  “I can see the counter from here.” Drew completely ignored the tactic. “You made her blush.”

  Had he? He definitely hadn't tried. Hard. “I have to come back tomorrow to see if I can sell the ring. Rain check on those drinks.”

  Drew inspected his face. “On me then. You look like you need one right now. Then I'll talk you into asking her out.”

  An evening out with—He shook his head, nixing the fantasies before they could start playing. His jeweler was off-limits. “No dating. Maybe next year or never.”

  “And that's your problem. One heartbreak and you're throwing in the towel?

  He slowed his steps and lingered a few feet in front of his cousin. Anger surged into his veins, heating his blood. A heartbreak was a first love gone wrong. Being with Abigail had changed the man he was and she'd left.

  He tightened his jaw and tried to breathe through his nose to tamp back the temper. Anger wouldn't change a thing. Bitterness wouldn't either. He was taking the first step to sever that part of his life for good. It was time, damn time.

  He exhaled, forcing his voice to come out even. “I have an annoying best friend. I can't tell him to fuck off because he's also family.”

  Drew smiled, likely because he knew he was right. “I didn't know you were that close to Brady. He's a dick.”

  Greg pulled out his keys and punched the unlock button. “Shut up and get in the car.” So...he hadn't dispelled all his anger.

  “What's her name?”

  At that Greg had to stop. He hadn't thought to ask and she hadn't wore a name tag, and it hadn't even crossed his mind to ask for a card. She'd smiled at him and he'd gone stupid.

  She, also, hadn't offered hers. Maybe he wasn't the only one who’d forgot himself during their exchange. “Don't know her name. I should only care because I left her with a very expensive ring.”

  Should. The important word that was noted in the silence that followed between them.

  Drew tilted his head back, shaking it slowly and chuckling almost to himself. “I know that look on your face.”

  He blanked his expression and moved to the front of the car. “I'm surprised you of all people are encouraging anyone to date and settle down.”

  Drew squinted at him. “Are you going to make me say it?”

  “Say what?”

  “Something nice about you. And how you don't seem happy living the bachelor life. Blah, blah mushy crap?”

  Greg snorted. “Shut up and get in.”

  Drew only laughed, which pretty much meant it was going to be a long happy hour.

  COMING SOON