Page 52 of Tempting as Sin
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.
It wouldn’t be new for them, no. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it would still be good. It would still be pleasure, even if it were only the pleasure of wearing beautiful things for yourself, the way it was for Lily. And surely there wasn’t enough pleasure in the world.
Five.Maggie Howden, who did real estate law, taking an early lunch and checking out the best stuff. “Hot date tonight,” she was telling Lily now, pushing back a curly tendril that had escaped her knot of auburn hair. “At least I hope it’s hot. Date number four, and so far, he’s been toomuchof a gentleman, as far as I’m concerned. I’d think he wasn’t interested, except that he is. Four dates in two weeks interested. The saddest, kindest eyes you ever saw, and he kisses like he means it. He held my face.” She sighed and stroked a hand down a deep-purple chemise, then put it back. “Why is that so hot? And I can’t decide what kind of thing would work best. Help.”
“Tell me more about him,” Lily said. “What’s he like?”
Maggie was looking at a pale blue camisole-and-tap-pants set, and rejecting it. “He’s forty-seven, he’s a rancher, his wife died of breast cancer after a hard fight four years ago, and he’s just starting to get out there again, because it broke him up so badly. The man belongs in a country song, and I’m not kidding. He’s taking me dancing down in Kalispell tonight, and if he doesn’t make the big moves, I’m doing it myself. He’s been alone long enough. If he does happen to slide his hand up my leg all on his lonesome, though, I want him to be glad he did. These colors don’t quite work, do they?”
“Hmm,” Lily said. “I’m thinking black, I’m thinking push-up bra, and I’m thinking lace. He sounds like a traditionalist. We get you in some wispy little black cobwebs, and he might stop being such a gentleman.”
She got busy. Maggie would look spectacular in black, with her auburn hair, curves, and creamy fair skin. Lily thought about that, andnotabout seeing Rafe today for the first time since Wednesday, when she’d had the ridiculous idea that she could out-casual him. She wasn’t made for casual. Witness her abject failure at making the big moves herself, probably because she didn’twantto make them. She wanted that anticipation, that flutter low in her belly. She wanted to stand there, raise her eyes to him so slowly, and say what he’d told her to. “Maybe you could kiss me again, take off my clothes, and touch me nice and slow, so I’d know for sure.” In a whisper. And then she wanted to wait, barely breathing, for him to do it.
Except he wouldn’t. The bastard.
Consent is a thing,she reminded herself.For men as well as women. You asked. He said no. Just like he backed off twice before, whenyousaid no. Damn it.
