The Harder They Fall

apartment’s been empty for some time. Wow. I guess that leak we had in the last rain left the floor more unstable than I thought.” She studied the hole. “There used to be a teeny, tiny, little hole I could peek through. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t an intruder.” Then she looked him up and down. “But you wouldn’t be, not all dressed up like that.”

That this woman talking to him had large, melting brown eyes and long brown hair the color of a doe’s, on a face meant for an artist’s canvas, all attached to a nifty little compact body that could tempt the gods meant nothing. She was insane.

“I’m so glad the place finally got rented. Poor Eloise,” the woman said. “I miss her. She was worried her nephew would let her down and sell the house. Told me he was a stuffy scientist.”

Space scientist, he thought wearily. Not stuffy.

“And that he worked in NASA, hiding himself from life in some laboratory, studying Mars, of all things. Mars,” she repeated with disdainful emphasis. “But she wanted him to take this place and learn to enjoy life.”

Enjoy life. He felt no need to explain that he’d lived wild and out of control his entire childhood, thanks to his equally wild and out-of-control parents, and planned never to do it again.

Now the crazy lady smiled, and it was a dazzler. “Everyone should do that,” she said. “Enjoy themselves. Don’t you think?”

Hunter could only stare. The woman plucked at the provocative top that hugged her every curve, bobbing her head gently to the beat of the music, which was beginning to give him a headache.

“You know,” she said, looking down, “this isn’t right for me either.”

Lacking anything to say that would make much sense, Hunter’s gaze followed her movements, and stuck like glue to her breasts. Amazingly, he felt the stir of something he didn’t often experience – pure lust.

“I’m afraid that entire shipment is going to have to be returned,” she said ruefully, still looking down at herself in that incredibly tight skirt. “Ugh, it’s awfully snug on these hips of mine.”

Her hips were perfect, and curved just right on top of surprisingly long legs. Hunter dragged his gaze up to meet hers, shocked at how he’d reacted to this strange woman who’d just fallen on him out of nowhere.

“It’s a shame,” she said sadly. “All that freighting cost, but I just can’t, in good conscience, sell something I don’t believe in.” Again that stunning smile, the one that had Hunter’s stomach tightening. “So… what’s your name?”

Finally, he found his voice. “I’m the stuffy – er, space scientist. Dr. Hunter Adams.”

“Eloise’s nephew?” Her smile never faltered. “Well, Dr. Space Scientist, I’m proud of you, you didn’t sell.”

She looked immensely relieved, so much so that he almost felt guilty as he muttered, “I still might.”

“Oh.” The joy just disappeared from her face. “I see.” Quietly, with surprising dignity, she moved to the door. “Well, then. I can only hope you’ll change your mind.”

Too many broken promises in Hunter’s past had left him with a major distaste for making any more. He never made promises. Never, but he was fair to a fault. “I’m sorry. But if you have to move, I can assure you I’ll give you plenty of notice.”

Those red lips curved, but her eyes still looked sad. “I won’t be moving, Dr. Adams.”

“No?” Her confidence irked him. So did the way the hands on her hips emphasized their lushness trapped in black vinyl. “You will if I sell.”

“No, I won’t,” she said sweetly but firmly. “Eloise gave me a lifetime lease.”

He sputtered, actually sputtered. He’d given speeches to entire governments, his staff numbered in the hundreds. He’d been in space three times. Yet this woman tied up his tongue with just a look. It was humiliating.

So, he realized after the enigmatic woman had spun and left, was the fact that the entire time he’d stood talking to her, his zipper had been down.

A day later Trisha sat in the middle of her living-room floor, muddling through her bookkeeping for Leather and Lace. At her feet were three boxes of her latest shipment from New York that she still had to go through and approve. Rock music blared from her stereo, an attempt on her part to lighten the unavoidable “paying bills” mood.

“For someone who sells underwear,” she muttered to Duff, the black cat who lay sprawled over her spreadsheets, “I sure do generate a lot of paperwork.”

Duff actually summoned enough energy to lift his head and look at her.

“I know, I know.” She stroked Duff’s sleek fur. “It’s a living.” Now she grinned, a little wickedly. “And such a fun one.” Raised by her military uncle and church-crazed aunt, fun hadn’t been in her vocabulary until all too recently. “If only Aunt Hilda could see me now.”

Duff seemed to match her grin, and Trisha laughed. “Can you imagine the look on that saintly woman’s face at the thought of her poor, orphaned niece selling lingerie? She’d have sprayed me with holy water and prayed for my soul for a month.”

Well, she wasn’t a frightened little mouse anymore, Trisha reminded herself. Living life to its fullest was her only goal – difficult as that creed might be. Letting loose with things such as her wardrobe didn’t come easy after years of being repressed. It didn’t come easy to remember she was free to think and feel what she wanted. But she would do it. She would create a full life for herself, and she would enjoy it.

Duff yawned and stretched, scattering a couple of invoices. Tired of working and worrying about money, Trisha lay back on the floor. She stretched, too, staring at the high-beamed ceiling, the plaster-coated brick walls. For a place nearly a century old, it was in remarkable shape. And she loved it beyond reason.

Maybe because she’d been forced to move nearly every year of her life while growing up. Maybe because she’d never been allowed to put down roots. It could have been a lot of things she wasn’t willing to think about now – whatever the reason, she didn’t ever want to leave.

But now she might have to.

For the first time all day Trisha allowed herself to think of the death of her landlord. Sadness filled her, as did the self-pity she’d managed to keep at bay.

Selfish as it was, Trisha had to face the bitter fact – Eloise’s death might mean the end of her time in the place where she’d been the happiest since… ever. Sitting up, she pulled the closest box toward her and opened it.

Red silk and satin spilled out as she held up a gorgeous teddy, trimmed in delicate lace. Perfect for Leather and Lace. Perfect for her customers, all with someone to please. She forced her chin up. Just because she didn’t have someone special in her life didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate pretty things. Besides, she didn’t want someone in her life. Freedom. That’s what she wanted.

Duff, sensing her somber mood, climbed into her lap and pressed his head into her palm. Obliging, she scratched behind his ears, smiling a little when he started that rumbling purr she loved so much. Silly, she told herself, that a woman of twenty-five could feel her life had just begun, but it was true. Because of that, she had to live each moment to its fullest.

And now Hunter Adams wanted to change all that, force her to move once again. Just the thought had her unreasonably panicked. He had not been what she expected, not at all. A stuffy scientist, Eloise had told her, which had conjured up pictures of an old, graying man. But he’d been nothing like that. Young, built, with a powerful grace that spoke of great physical conditioning, but definitely not old or graying.

A sharp rap on the door had her lifting her head in surprise. No, she thought, rising from the floor to face the man she’d been thinking of, Hunter Adams was nothing like what she’d expected.

Briefly, she wished she’d changed after her workout, or had at least pulled on a sweatshirt over the revealing aerobic outfit she wore. Then she reminded herself that she no longer cared what people thought of her.

“Hello.” He had to shout over the music, and he didn’t look too happy about it. His elegant attire – dark silk dress shirt and perfectly draped matching trousers – which she was sure he’d consider casual, only succeeded in making him all the more masculine. So did that sun-kissed blond hair and serious expression that highlighted patrician, yet rugged features. Those clear green eyes narrowed in annoyance as the music shifted, speeding up in beat and increasing in volume, but he said nothing, just placed his hands on his hips and waited.

Ah, a man used to being in charge. This was likely to get good. Amused, Trisha moved to the stereo, complying with his silent demand. Okay, maybe the scientist could be a little stuffy, a little overbearing, if one let him. She could only imagine how he terrified his peers, but not her. Nope, never again would she let herself be terrified or intimidated by anyone.