The Harder They Fall

“I’m selling lingerie, aren’t I?”

“Yes, and you’re doing a wonderful job. But you’re still not comfortable with it. That’s okay, it’ll come. But let this landlord thing slide off your back. Don’t let him get to you. There’s always another place.”

“No!” Trisha took a deep breath and forced herself not to yank up the bodice of her dress. She’d moved eighteen times in eighteen years and had promised herself never to do it again. She loved her place, and Eloise had wanted her to have it.

She wouldn’t move. “I just want to be free to do what I want. That’s all. It’s not asking too much, I know that.”

“Well, you’ve done what you want here,” Celia said, glancing around the shop. There were at least eight people milling around the small place and it was only noon. “We’re keeping our heads above water. Most businesses fail in their first year, but not this one. Thank God, since we’ve both grown fond of eating. Some of us more than others, of course,” she added with a grimace at Trisha’s lean, petite figure, then down at her own slightly too curvaceous one.

With a sense of satisfaction Trisha looked around the shop. Organized chaos reigned. Leather and Lace was located in the very favorable area of Old Town Pasadena, where locals and tourists alike walked the quaintly gentrified streets night and day. As a result, she was almost always busy. Her clientele ran the gamut from businessmen to college students, and all their trade was equally important to Trisha. She loved this shop with a passion that didn’t surprise her, since the place signified her first taste of freedom.

“I almost forgot,” Celia said, biting her lip, looking uneasy. “Your uncle Victor called. Said he missed you at home over the weekend.”

Just the name unleashed a flood of miserable memories along with feelings of overwhelming guilt, self-doubt, and low self-esteem. She tugged at her dress again. “I’ll call him back later.”

“He said you wouldn’t.” Celia shrugged. “Hey, don’t give me that trapped-doe look. I avoid my parents when they call too.” She gave Trisha a smacking kiss on the cheek, squeezed her hand, and moved toward a group of tourists. “Good day, ladies. Yes, that’s genuine silk. And let me tell you, it’s heavenly on bare skin… ”

Throat tight, Trisha turned away, thankful to have the best friend anyone could ever have. Making her way through the store, she opened the back room, which doubled as a closet and her office. She just needed a minute to relax, and she’d be fine. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes.

“Imagine that I actually thought you were kidding about destroying the floor in your kitchen.”

She jolted at the deep, unbearably seductive voice. Heart hammering, she turned to face the man who had knocked her world off its axis.

Dr. Hunter Adams filled the doorway, watching her quietly.

“It’s a sin to have a voice like that,” she said without thinking, tucking her hands under her folded arms to keep them from yanking at her hem.

“A sin?” He cocked his head questioningly.

His voice could melt the North Pole, but she didn’t see any reason to stroke his ego. Not when he stood there looking at her with an intense, inscrutable gaze. “Never mind.”

“Your shop is… something.”

She tried not to care about what he really thought of her shop and what she did for a living, but at this moment she didn’t feel strong enough to defend herself. “Yes, it’s something.”

“Have you always done this?”

“You mean sell panties?” She imagined Aunt Hilda rolling over in her grave, and let out a little laugh. “No. But I’ve always wanted to do something unusual.”

“Well, congratulations; you succeeded.”

Her amusement drained. “I’m sure you didn’t drive all the way over here to insult me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t insult you.”

Not with words. “You’ve made no secret of what you think of me and what I do.”

“You have no idea what I think of you,” he murmured. “You seem upset,” he continued in the slow, careful manner that made her think of a man who was stuck in a canoe without a paddle, an image that for some reason made her want to giggle. “Is something the matter?”

Yeah. He was driving her crazy. “No.”

“Hmm. You’re a horrible liar, Trisha. It’s the eyes; they give you away.”

She sighed. So much for her moment of peace and quiet. “How did you find me?”

“I saw you come in here. What’s the matter?”

“I said, nothing.”

His eyes narrowed, and in the tiny space not taken up by her files and the desk, she managed to turn from him. He wasn’t going to let it go, and his probing eyes seemed to see far more than she was willing to explain. If only he’d let her alone for a few more minutes, she could have gotten herself under control. Inhaling deeply, she forced herself to relax her shoulders and drop her arms to her sides. Yeah, the cleavage of her dress slipped and the hem hiked up, but that was what they were supposed to do.

“Trisha. Talk to me.”

Distraction, she decided. He needed to be distracted. “What was that about the floor in my kitchen?” she asked over her shoulder.

Resignation flitted across his features. “My kitchen now has a sort of skylight into yours.”

Again, the urge to giggle shocked her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmmph.”

Control, she reminded herself. Confidence. Not easy under the best of circumstances. Next to impossible with this man standing so close to her. “Handy thing, a skylight,” she ventured.

“Not much privacy.” He looked piqued. “I like privacy.”

So did she. After enduring years of surprise room searches, it meant everything to her. “Maybe it’s overrated.” Now he glowered and she nearly laughed at how easily she could rile him. “I really am sorry,” she said kindly. “Did you come down here to buy some… underwear?”

“No.” He seemed to speak through his teeth. “Not from here.”

“I stock some beautiful things,” she pointed out, enjoying his obvious discomfort with the subject. It seemed sort of incongruous, this big, gorgeous man looking so prim and proper. Unless… Oh dear. “Is there a… wife?” She held her breath, strangely relieved when he shook his head. Beneath his casual denial she sensed pain, and she knew she had to stop pushing him, but her insatiable curiosity got the better of her. “Girlfriend?”

“I didn’t come to buy underwear, for me or anyone else,” he assured her grimly, taking a step into the only available space left in the entire room – directly in front of her.

No wife, no girlfriend. The knowledge shouldn’t have sent a thrill through her.

“If you don’t want underwear, how about a bathrobe?”

“No, thank you.” He took another step. Their toes touched.

“Nightwear?” she squeaked.

“I don’t wear any.”

“Oh, my,” she whispered.

He filled the office with a sort of devastating male grace, watching her with an unmistakable light of awareness in his eyes. He studied her slowly, from her low neckline, to her short hemline, and everywhere in between.

Suddenly the stuffy scientist didn’t seem so stuffy, but the room sure did. “What did you come for?” she asked, her voice low and quavering.

His jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath, which brought him within a fraction of an inch from Trisha, who suddenly couldn’t breathe. Slowly, she tipped back her head and looked at him, swallowing hard at his intense expression.

“Hunter?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here?”

A wordless sound of frustrated humor escaped from him. “I haven’t the foggiest.” His big hands touched her shoulders. “For some ridiculous reason, looking at you made me forget.”

“You forgot? That’s ridiculous -”

But the words were swallowed by his mouth.