Chapter Fifteen
Clare barely had the coffee started and the computer booted on her preopening routine when the bookstore doorknob rattled. She glanced over, saw Sam Freemont through the glass panel. Too late to hide, she decided as he’d spotted her, gave her that sly wink and smile.
She considered just shaking her head, but he’d only knock, wink, smile. She’d never been able to figure out why Sam thought he was so charming.
Unlocking the door, she angled herself in the narrow opening. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m not open yet.”
“I smell coffee.”
“Yes, I just started it, but I’m not open for an hour. I really need to—”
“I could sure use a cup. You can spare a cup for a friend now, can’t you?”
He didn’t exactly muscle his way in, but she found herself backing up. Easier to just pour the damn coffee, she thought, and slipped behind the counter.
Sam had given her the mild creeps since middle school.
“How do you want it?”
“Hot and sweet. Why don’t you just tip your finger in it. That’s all the sugar I need.”
Maybe more than mild these days, she decided.
“I saw your car in the back, and thought, Clare’s getting an early start today. Honey, you work too hard.”
“Can’t run a business without working.” Unless your daddy owned the car dealership where you put in time when it suited you. She set the go-cup on the counter. “Sugar’s on the shelf right over there.”
He only leaned on the counter. “How are things going with you, sweetheart?”
“Busy. In fact, I’ve really got to get to work. So—”
“You’ve got to take time for yourself. Isn’t that what I always tell you?”
“Yes, you do. But right now—”
“Did you see the demo I’m driving? She’s one sweet ride.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Come take a look. In fact, let me take you for a spin.” He gave her that wink again.
“I have work to do.” She slapped the top on the cup since he’d made no move to doctor it. “Coffee’s on the house.”
“Now you can’t buy yourself pretty things if you give it away.” With that sly look on his face he reached in the inside jacket pocket of his gray pinstripe suit, flashed gold cuff links and monogrammed French cuffs.
He took a twenty out of his wallet, set it on the counter.
“You keep the change, buy yourself a little something.”
She came around, intending to get to the door, get him out. He timed it well, turning into her so she ended up trapped between him and the counter.
Enough, Clare decided. Just enough.
“You’re in my way, and you need to leave.”
“I tell you what we’ll do. We’ll go for a drive tonight.”
“No, we won’t.”
“A long, pretty drive,” he said, trailing a finger down the side of her throat before she slapped it aside. “I’ll treat you to a nice dinner. And then—”
“I don’t know how to make this any more clear. I have a business to run. I have children to raise. And I’m not interested in going for a drive with you, a dinner. Or lunch. Or brunch.” That got through, she thought as the smile fell away from his face. “Now I’m telling you to get out of my store.”
“You should be nicer to me, Clare. You should stop playing games with me. I could do things for you.”
“I can do for myself.” She started to step to the side, but he shot out his arm, slapped a hand on the counter and blocked her.
The first prickle of fear scraped the surface of sheer annoyance. “Stop it. What’s wrong with you?”
“You’re always too busy to spend a little time with me. But not too busy to spend plenty with Beckett Montgomery.”
“That’s my business.”
“You’re wasting your time with him. The Montgomerys, they’re nothing but blue-collar punks. I could buy and sell Beckett Montgomery.” He stepped in, put a hand on her hip, and shot twin spears of temper and fear through her when he slid it around, squeezed her ass. “I just want you to take a drive with me. Let me show you a good time.”
“Get your hands off me.” She hated the jerky sound of her voice, fought to steady it. “I’m never going to take a drive with you. I’m not interested in you or what you can buy and sell. I want you to get out of my store, and I don’t want you to come back.”
The pseudo charm switched to a bright, sharp anger that sent her heart on a gallop. “That’s no way to talk to me. It’s past time you realize a woman like you needs to be grateful, needs to show some appreciation.”
She thought of the coffee behind her, slapped one hand on his chest, reaching for the cup with the other.
Someone banged hard on the door. “Clare!” Avery, her face furious through the glass, banged again. “I need you to open the door.” She turned her head, raised a hand. “Hey, Owen! Come over here.”
Sam stepped back, shot his cuffs. “You think about what I said.”
Because her legs trembled, she pressed back against the counter. “Don’t come back here. Don’t come to my house again. Stay away from me.”
He walked to the door, flipped open the lock she didn’t realize he’d turned.
Avery bolted in when he went out. “Creep,” she yelled behind him, then shut the door hard, locked it again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yes. Yeah.”
“Was he actually putting moves on you? Stupid, pin-striped bastard. How many times do you have to turn him down?”
“Apparently I haven’t reached the magic number.”
“Clare, you’re shaking.” Instantly, Avery moved over to hug her, to rub her arms as she felt how cold they were. “Damn it, what did he do? He really scared you.”
“A little. Maybe a lot. Don’t tell Owen—where is Owen?”
“How the hell do I know? I just used him as a threat of a beat-down. Sam’s always been scared of the Montgomerys. What the hell was he doing in here?”
“I’m stupid, just stupid.” She went behind the counter, got a bottle of water out of the little cooler. “He said he wanted coffee, and I figured it was easier to give it to him than argue about being closed. He usually just makes a pest of himself. Today was different. He got mad, and pushy.”
She remembered the feel of his hands on her, let herself shudder it away.
“He knows I’m seeing Beckett, and that seemed to set him off.”
“Sam the creep Freemont always gets what he wants, and you’re screwing with his record. His mother just indulges the crap out of him; always has. You know there was talk about him and some woman he was dating a couple years ago.”
Clare nodded, soothed her throat with water. “That he’d knocked her around, and his mother paid her off. I thought it was just gossip. Now . . . I’m inclined to believe it.”
“You should’ve kneed him in the balls.”
“I was stupid there, too. He just took me by surprise. I was going to toss his damn coffee in his face, which wouldn’t have worked very well since I capped it.”
“Do you want to call the cops?”
“No. No, he was just being obnoxious, and creepy. He’s bound to be embarrassed since you scared him off. And I told him not to come back. He’ll have to get his damn coffee and books somewhere else.”
“Like he reads.”
Clare took the cap off the cup, deliberately poured it down the drain in the under-counter sink. “He left his
