Chasing Temptation Page 3

  “If you can't beat 'em, bookkeep,” she murmured.

  The routine of filing old invoices soothed her unsteady nerves. The fear of losing the store receded, and ideas began to form on how to outsmart the man and keep her business. Soon she had a smile on her face. By the time a knock came at her door, she was downright chipper.

  “Come in.” Since she had found a groove, Lynne didn't glance up.

  The soft thud of a popcorn bag hit the papers on Lynne's desk. She grabbed the bag before butter ruined that quarter's newly printed worksheets.

  “Thanks for the snack.” The hairs on her neck stood up as they always did when someone looked at you in hopes of getting your attention. She saved the document and then gave Jeremy her full attention.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “What's today's wager on our ten pounds of mutt and forty pounds of crazy?”

  “Suzie? She's at the bush?”

  Her life, as she knew it, might be crumbling around her, but there was no way she was going to miss out on their local mascot. Lynne scowled at the clock on the computer screen. For two hours she'd buried her head in the sand. Yeah, she had the skeleton of a plan, but still it was embarrassing that Nathan could inspire such concentration.

  Putting that on the back burner, Lynne didn't bother hanging up the closed sign on the shop. People who lived here knew of the dog's antics. Enough so, egg crates were lined up and down the street for the coming show. Wild honks of people driving down and away from the coming mayhem made her smile.

  Taking in her daily view of the city she called home, she sighed with contentment. Picturesque wasn't the right word. She'd never accuse Peggy Wathers of creating a homey atmosphere with her Don't Rot Your Brain―Read Something sign outside the store across the street.

  Maybe Grannies Who Quilt, with its wares hung up in the window for display was more in that line. The quilts made her think of fireplaces and stew in the winter, even though the store’s owner, Lorelei, spent her free time at the local bar doing her best to meddle, and keep her husband from making wagers while drunk.

  She really smiled since Nathan had opened up his store. Yes, only twenty-four hours, but the man was already a thorn in her butt, killing any good mood on the horizon.

  Suzie definitely didn't speak of welcoming or homey as she crept out of the bushes. Her chestnut-colored fur was a bit ragged, but nothing like mange, and despite the homeless assumption, no one could see a rib cage. If Lynne had to use two words to describe the dog they would be small and deranged. The animal fit right into this town.

  “Earth to Lynne,” Jeremy said.

  She held out the bag of popcorn to him.

  He said, “I say five bucks, someone catches her today.” Jeremy threw out the first wager.

  “God, you're heartless,” Lynne said what she always said to assuage the guilt of making the bet. “How can you put money on freedom?”

  “Like any of us can ever actually tame her.”

  She snorted, because he was right. “Twenty says she does her usual jaywalk, plays dead if anyone gets close and just as they reach down to pick her up, she makes a break for it.”

  “On.”

  Lynne checked the street to see who would volunteer for the thankless job of trying to corral Suzie. Her gaze caught on Joe making his way down the street. He worked at the bank, but today he had on jeans, a shirt and running shoes.

  “He's got a net,” she said.

  “Hell. I'm going to lose.”

  He was. Kindness, food, nets and cornering had been all the methods the folks in town had tried to save the dog. None had ever worked. And, really, watching all walks of life try to outsmart an insane dog and lose was the entertainment factor.

  Joe slowed his step when Suzie trotted to the middle of the street. Their gaze's clashed. Suzie crouched low, no bark or sign of aggression. Joe stepped out into the street and prepped the net to grab her. He got the net around Suzie and as Lynne predicted, the dog went stiff then belly up.

  Jeremy cursed at her side, probably already feeling his lighter wallet.

  Cautious now since everyone had seen this tactic before, Joe kept the net down and inched toward the dog. The only way to pick her up was through the net.

  Lynne shook her head and waited for the great escape. It would come. Joe got a hold of the dog's middle and dropped the net. He lifted Suzie and the dog thrashed out of the hold and was a streak of fur as she crossed on their side of the street. Joe tried to follow but tripped over the net. He went down hard on one knee and there wasn't no catching her now.

  A loud whistle to her right had Lynne jumping, spilling half the bag of popcorn on the ground. The dog let out a yelp, and froze on the sidewalk. The shock of the sound seemed have everyone's attention.

  Lynne's heart still pounded but she whipped her gaze around. Nathan had two fingers in his mouth. He whistled again while stepping toward Suzie. Lynne turned around just in time to see the dog take flight back across the street and into the bushes. The empty field hid her home, if it was there.

  Again she looked Nathan. His forehead creased as he frowned in the direction Suzie vanished. A moment passed before he turned his gaze to her.

  Deep down, with one of those wishes she wouldn't dare tell anybody, she wanted him to look at her like a woman. Not like a business proposition, but like she had soft curves, pouty lips, and eyes he could drown in.

  But he didn't. Nathan straightened his lapels and marched toward her with his usual purpose.

  “I'm not selling—” Lynne said.

  “Do you know who owns that dog?”

  His question made stopped her short. She'd mistaken the determination for single-mindedness, not concern. He had stopped looking at her, his focus back on the bushes.

  “Suzie's a stray and doesn't let anyone get close enough to give her a home.”

  “Suzie, for a dog's name?” he asked with a laugh.

  Lynne almost melted right there on the sidewalk. He should smile, really smile, more often. It softened his features, made him human. Made her want to kiss him for any reason other than to shut him up.

  “Crazy Suzie was her moniker because she would run out into the street and stare down any car daring to get in her path,” she answered, quelling the wayward thoughts and ridiculous emotions. “We shortened it once we got Lance to redirect traffic when she's spotted.”

  He chuckled again, looking amused. Her stomach tightened and that wouldn't do.

  “No wonder you like this town,” he said. The amusement fell away from his gaze.

  Lynne held up her hand and was surprised to see a slight tremble. “I'm not in the mood to argue with you today. So, the answer to the question I can see brewing in your eyes, unequivocally is no. By now you should know where you can put your offer.”

  He nodded, but his gaze strayed back to the bushes. Lynne relaxed. She'd have to throw a doggy treat to Suzie.

  Lynne stuck her trembling hands into her pockets and tried not to look back when she walked away from him. If she gave into the impulse, she just might turn into a pillar of salt.

  Once inside the store, Lynne ran her hand along the clothes as she made her way back to the counter. The textures tickled the inside of her palm. She used the distraction to get her head back into the game.

  These clothes, this store, should have been the ultimate focus. Not a man who ate small businesses for breakfast, but apparently cared about stray dogs.

  Lynne was standing behind the counter when Jeremy entered. “Did the devil really try to help someone, something other than himself?”

  “Yes,” she answered shortly and blew out breath.

  Jeremy’s comment made her think about Nathan again and the heart that might lie beneath the Armani suit, and that bothered the hell out of her.

  “I think we need to talk,” she said.

  Jeremy stuffed his hands in his pockets, a gesture she'd seen too many times from him. He was hiding a secret. Ever since that woman had entered t
he shop and stumbled back out, he'd been acting strange.

  “What?” he asked.

  She raised a brow at his tone. “Nathan.”

  “First name basis now? I thought you two had only talked once before?”

  “We did.” No need to explain how she'd become a people watcher at a young age and, lately, a Nathan watcher. “I just know his type. I need you to come in on Saturday to help me rearrange the store. I also need you to help me set up a sidewalk sale.”

  “I won't be able to be stay the whole day. I have...things to do Saturday.”

  The woman. Since he was all the family she welcomed with open arms, Lynne nodded okay without pushing for questions.

  She hadn't noticed the tension in his shoulders until they lowered with the reply. More than anything she wanted to get him to talk. She would have before now if the whole Nathan thing hadn’t distracted her.

  “Just so you know, I went into his store,” Jeremy started. “It's not as nice as ours.”

  She smiled at the term ours; that's exactly the type of store she wanted, but then Lynne grimaced. Given Jeremy was a friend, he'd tell her what she needed to hear, without the harsh edge.

  She sighed. “I'll be back.”

  Jeremy didn't ask questions, and that was for the best. She squared her shoulders, walked out the glass doors, and entered into the Devil's third ring of hell.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lynne froze after a single step into inside Nathan's store. The décor―just classy. Any man would want to wear the imported silks, even as casual wear. The scent, a deep musk, filled the store, filled her mind with questions, wants, and desires. It smelled like him. No way to hold her breath long enough, Lynne would have to endure the intoxicating scent again.

  The place appeared so upscale she didn't want to examine the fabrics and check the names or prices on the tags. Her damp palms might ruin the material.

  The observation helped put Nathan back into perspective. He didn't understand one thing about small towns. The men here chose comfort and function for everyday wear. They wouldn't wear their silk shirt to dump the trash or drink beer with the guys. Not enough tourists stopped through either.

  But women didn't need a reason to buy something pretty. Maybe sexist, and a generalization, but the clothes industry focused on women for a reason.

  She spotted him in the corner, smiling at a customer. No one she recognized, but it still made her wipe damp palms on her jeans.

  She turned to study the ties displayed on headless mannequins, of all things. This man really went all out. She should have researched him. Running a hand down a rich navy blue tie, she had to give Nathan his due. Most people only spotted the difference between silk and silky nylon due to the price. The tie slid between her fingers like butter.

  Damn him.

  “I thought you weren't selling,” he asked.

  Lynne snatched her hand back, faced him. “My assistant mentioned he’d perused. I decided to scope out the competition for myself.”

  He unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Let me take you on a tour. My assistant will take care of the customers.”

  She tried her best to come up with something witty. “Aren't you hot in that suit?”

  “I am, actually.” He slipped off his jacket without another word and oozed capable in the way he placed his jacket over his arm. He was damn near delectable when those shoulders were as broad without the help of the jacket.

  She had to say something, if only to remind herself who he was. “You attack everyone that comes in?”

  “Greet, and yes.” He gestured to the sign over the cash register. Grand Opening Sale. 50 percent off. Oh, this man was really good. “Plus, I want the customers to have a first impression of me that will stay with them.”

  “Trust me, my first impression of you will stick,” she quipped and remembered she had wanted to jump him in that first moment. Well, double damn. Moving on.

  She cleared her throat. “I noticed you sell only name brands.”

  He nodded. “I sell quality. I sell—”

  “The American Dream,” she finished for him.

  He leaned against the shelf of ties. They didn't budge, which probably meant he had the shelves reinforced. She might be able to hate him if she didn't respect him so much.

  “I like that,” he said. “The American Dream.”

  “You shouldn't. The problem with dreams are that they rarely come true, and when they do, reality gets in the way.”

  “I didn't peg you for a cynic.”

  She shrugged. “Realistic.” He raised a brow and she gave. “Okay, cynical, but you didn't strike me as a dreamer.”

  “I'm not, but it's what I sell.”

  She glanced at the cufflinks on his shirt. Real diamonds. “You're a total dreamer, but I'm not here to psychoanalyze you.”

  Lynne stepped forward. He placed a hand on her shoulder to hold her in place. The touch was fleeting, but her stomach jumped just the same.

  “I'm interested now.” He placed his jacket on the smooth, mahogany wood surface next to him and crossed his arms. “No one,” he chuckled, “has ever accused me of being a dreamer.”

  Why couldn't she keep her observations to herself? And why did he have to be charming?

  She said, “Because everyone looks at you, how you talk and carry yourself. It's conflicting.” The statement made her frown.

  “And what is it you see?”

  She heard the amusement, the disdain in his tone, and decided to go for the kill.

  “You think you know what people want, and it's really what you want. On some level you want the American Dream. The house, kids, wife, and the happily ever after. It's probably why you're going after my store. You see its potential, and in your head it's all about money when it's not. I won't speculate about your childhood, but I'm sure that's where your need to be a success, to be the American Dream, came from.”

  The charm instantly changed to something much darker, something akin to grief. Lynne took a step back. Really, from now on she would keep her observations to herself.

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. “And you think Hart and Style is a home. It's not. It's a business. One I intend to have as mine. In that respect you're right.”

  She couldn't forget the glimpse of grief. Couldn't see past the wall of professionalism he'd thrown up either. He picked up his jacket. “Let's stick to observations about my store from now on.”

  She'd hit a nerve. Now she had to know what happened to this ruthless, if at times charming, business man. If honest with herself, and she was, her reasons had nothing to do with saving the store. She squelched the thought and concentrated.

  He gestured to the store. “I plan to add more merchandise that the locals favor,” he said. “I have a suggestion box. No, you may not add any of yours.”

  Despite the irrational guilt that wanted to dig its little claws in, she forced herself to laugh. He had moved on, so would she.

  “And if they suggest local designers?”

  “I'll consider it.” He placed his jacket on the counter, near the register. “I'll give customers what they want as long as it's profitable.”

  “The bottom line. Again.” She bit her lip to keep from asking personal questions.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I want you...” The pause lasted long enough she didn't think he'd finish the statement. “To meet my personal assistant.”

  It seemed they both let out a breath. “I knew you'd have minions,” she said.

  Lynne forced herself to look away from him. The undercurrent between them...well, it was stupid to even consider those train tracks. A wreck between them would have causalities.

  Instead, she searched around the shop for someone who had the look of a shark. Her gaze landed on a woman in her mid-twenties wearing a black suit. Her scalp had to be screaming from the severe bun. She gasped. Not that woman, couldn’t be, but Nathan gestured to the same woman who had been in Lynne’s store the day before and had run out.

&
nbsp; “That's Sylvia. My assistant. Let me introduce you. You'll be seeing a lot of her when I close this deal.”

  The woman stopped short when Nathan called her name, but relaxed her features and offered her hand to Lynne.

  “Nice to meet you,” Lynne said. “I think I spotted you at the grocery store.” The lie flowed easily from Lynne's mouth because up close there wasn't a shark in any of Sylvia’s movements.

  The woman's hand relaxed. “Had a craving.”

  Lynne would never refer to Jeremy as a craving, but to each his own. And, oh, my God, Nathan's assistant was sleeping with Jeremy.

  She stole a glance at Nathan. He wouldn't stoop that low, or would he?

  “Nathan, I can take over from here,” Sylvia suggested.

  He nodded. “Finish the tour. Take her to the stockroom.”

  Even Lynne could see the woman had to force herself to smile back. A musical ding sounded and Nathan went to yet another customer. Sylvia indicated for Lynne to follow. Turning on her heel, she walked past the stockroom and out the back door.

  A million emotions seemed to cross Sylvia's face before she asked, “What's your angle? Why did you lie? I can tell you now I'm not going to see Jeremy any more. It was a stupid mistake. I should have known better.”

  This woman was strung tight as a guitar string. Lynne held up her hands. “What you do in your spare time is your business. It sounds like you're not trying to pump Jeremy for information, which was a worry.”

  “Are you going to tell Nathan?”

  This time Lynne didn't have to guess. Fear etched lines above Sylvia's brow. This alone was why she would not let the attraction between Nathan and herself be more than an undercurrent. What kind of man would inspire that type of fear for having a social life?

  “No.” She didn't second-guess the answer when Sylvia released a pent-up breath. Lynne held up her hand higher. “But you need to tell Jeremy. I'm surprised he didn't see you when he came by earlier.”

  “He came in earlier?” She stopped, swallowed nervously. “I can't have anything else to do with him—”

  “You need to tell Jeremy.” Lynne kept her tone firm. “Tell Nathan I've seen all I could stomach of him and his shop.”