Chasing Temptation Page 4

  Which was the truth, but still she added, “And Sylvia. Good luck.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sylvia wondered how long the unemployment line would be back home in Fresno as she pulled the sheet up to her chin. She was weak, a horny toad, and stupid, stupid, stupid. She'd taken Lynne's advice. She’d told Jeremy, but—

  “Stop thinking,” Jeremy said softly against her chest.

  Well, sort of.

  He didn't bother to open his eyes or move his mouth much. His breath teased her nipple and an aftershock of their earlier deeds ran through her body, made her shiver.

  Sylvia was supposed to confess about working for Nathan, and they were supposed to hash out how that changed their relationship. They were supposed to go over the reasons why continuing this, whatever this was, had doomed written all over it. Like adults, they would have decided the best thing to do was the one thing they didn't want to do—end it.

  She told him, and then his tongue had explored...oh, God, she was so going to get fired for the affair. Nathan expected loyalty and that really translated to honesty. She couldn’t get more dishonest than sleeping with Jeremy. Again and again. Doing it—no pun intended—without an intention to disclose the relationship. After all Nathan had done for her and this was her way of saying thanks for seeing the potential in me. Thanks for trusting me when no one else would have.

  And Jeremy wanted her to relax.

  “Stop thinking?” Her voice sounded shrill.

  He slid his hand up her bare torso, and she rolled off the bed, sheet clutched in her hands. “I don't believe I made myself clear the first time. We need to talk about this. Our decisions have consequences, dire ones.”

  Jeremy rolled over, half-mast. She moved her gaze to the clock by the closet. The old school cat whiskers twitched with the time. The room had a vintage feel to it. No surprise he’d decorated himself. He worked in fashion because he loved all aspects of it, and he certainly loved the clothing, and the unclothing, women aspect.

  Which made it harder for her to say, “We can't do this again.”

  “There's a nice place to eat on the edge of town.” He rested his head on his hand, almost musing to himself. “I think you would like it.”

  She clutched the sheet tighter in exasperation. “Are you even listening?”

  “No.”

  The word held so much of a blasé attitude she loosened the hold on the sheet. She had expected him to make excuses that he was listening when they both knew he wasn't, like most men. She had to find the one honest man on the planet. The type of man she'd always wished to find.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Aren't you curious as to why I'm not?” he said.

  The wind of the conversation went out of her sails. “Sure.”

  “You're saying something that contradicts what you want. I thought my species was supposed to read between the lines.”

  Usually, and that was the problem. What she really wanted ended in doom, and because he was right, she put on her underwear and skirt.

  She kicked his jeans out of the way, and still found no sign of her bra. Bending down, she searched under the bed. Her knees sank into the area rug. Nothing under there at all. No nudie magazines. No porn videos. No sex toys. No bra. She had to find a dirty secret of his and soon. The man was too perfect.

  Jeremy cleared his throat above her head. She held her breath to steady the nerves because if he was still half-mast, or worse, fully erect, she might not have the strength to walk out that door.

  If nothing else, this should be a cautionary tale to not ignore your libido. If she hadn't been celibate the last six months, she wouldn't have been half as tempted. By the time Jeremy looked at her across that grocery store, she was hooked. Sad, if she really thought about it.

  If she had someone to talk to, Sylvia wouldn't have spilled every thought and emotion to Jeremy. There was only so much one could share with Nathan. Meeting Jeremy, all of it kind of spilled out in a rush.

  He listened, really listened and took the time to reply thoughtfully. She couldn't believe her luck, until she found out where he worked. Of course. The one glimmer of a relationship, even if a short one, and it was fraught with complications.

  She shook her head and exhaled, knowing he'd start to wonder why she was still searching under the bed. She rose so that her eyes were level with the bed. The red bra hung from the hook of his finger.

  “On the headboard,” he said.

  She snatched it out his hand, and slumped to the floor, back against the mattress. The bed shifted behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know Jeremy had moved closer. His scent, tangled with hers, drifted to her.

  She sighed. “The first step is admitting I have a problem.”

  “This is good for my ego.”

  Sylvia wanted to laugh, but what really was her problem? She had a boss so demanding an outside life was like a fairy tale told to scare adults into sacrificing for job security.

  “I bet,” she finally answered and crossed her arms to cover her bare chest. “You don't mind that I work for Nathan?”

  “Mentioning another man after sex, not so good for my ego.”

  “I'm being serious.” Sylvia gasped when his lips, so hot, grazed her earlobe.

  “I'm being very serious.” He used his teeth this time.

  She closed her eyes. “I'm addicted to having sex with you. I love spending the spare time I have with you. I just want all this to end well.”

  He worked his way down to her neck and paused at the spot that convinced her clothes weren't necessary.

  Moments later, he lifted from her neck and whispered, “I promise to never make you sell any valuables. I promise to listen to you when you need me to. I also promise to distract you with sex so you can stop worrying over things you can't change.”

  She needed him to keep every single promise, and that was the problem. Was it simply human nature to want the one thing that would hurt her one way or another?

  When his tongue flicked over her sensitive skin, Sylvia let her bones go weightless. “We can keep our relationship a secret.” Especially from Nathan. “Right? Just for us?”

  He murmured in agreement. Her mind went fuzzy around the edges. She'd never go out on a real date with him. His teeth sank into her favorite spot. She went hot all over and convinced herself it wasn't hiding. She was keeping her private life private in a small town. Away from Nathan.

  Jeremy brushed his lips over the bite. Yes. If keeping quiet meant having more of these moments, she'd do it.

  So, Sylvia turned into Jeremy, letting his kiss distract her from the worries.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lynne squared her shoulders and walked into the quilt store. The dirty work of keeping her store had to begin, and there was only one place to start the battle.

  “Hey, Lynne. What brings you over here with that gloom and doom face?” Lorelei asked.

  The older woman had decided to live and let the gray win a year ago. The wrinkles only highlighted the smile she shot in Lynne's direction. Lynne breathed in the scent of freshly baked cookies that only added to the charm of the quilt store. She let the intoxicating fragrance bolster her courage.

  Lynne said, “I know you think gambling isn't a good thing.”

  Lorelei put down her knitting needles on the counter. “But?”

  “I've come to you with the wager that will end all wagers in this town. I promise I won't trick your husband into meaningless bets after this.”

  “I've heard this line before.” The older woman sighed.

  Lynne put her hands together as if in prayer. “Hear me out, please. My life—or the livelihood of my store—depends on the success of this bet. Meaning the wager has pretty high stakes for me.”

  The sigh was deeper and longer. “Go ahead.”

  “I make a bet I can get the owner of Craine’s Fashions to fold clothes, ring up sales, and act like he works for me.” She held her breath, waiting for judgment.

 
Lorelei squinted her brown eyes. “How?”

  Lynne bit her lip to keep from smiling. She had the other woman. “Anyone who makes a purchase in one of our, locals only of course, stores can get seventy-five percent off at Hart and Style. All y’all have to do is let your customers know. Locals, tourist. All of them. Just send them to my store.”

  The older woman pursed her lips. “All we have to do is let them know to go to your store?”

  “Yes.”

  The woman tapped her knitting needles together before she said, “The prize?”

  “The oldest bottle of scotch in town. If I lose, I'll break the bank and come up with one from the 1960s. Or just beg my father for one of his.”

  Lorelei let out a big laugh. “That's ten years older than my husband's. You had every intention of Troy losing.”

  “I'm sorry, but he has that liquor bottle on display in the grocery store, teasing the whole town with it. It has to be done. If he wins, a big if, he'll have two to display.”

  “That bottle has been there for thirty years. He won't sell it.” She leaned forward on the counter. “Why are you so sure you'll win?”

  Lynne hadn't hit desperate yet, but she had to show Nathan who he was up against. He could have Search It. She had a small town on her side. “No real reason.”

  Lorelei made a noncommittal sound. “You're playing with fire there.”

  “It's about the bottom line.”

  “For now,” Lorelei said with a certainty Lynne wished she had.

  “Your lack of faith in me rankles.”

  “I've been on this earth long enough to spot attraction between two people. The air around you two is electric like right before a thunderstorm.” She sighed wistfully. “That's going to be one hell of a storm.”

  Because she saw the woman as the grandmother she wished for, Lynne let the subject drop. “You're going to call everyone?”

  The woman looked Lynne over. “I will. Only because I want to see you win this time. Next time, the ball will be in his court.”

  “For all your hemming and hawing about gambling...”

  Lorelei tsked. “I don't waste time on pointless bets when the odds are stacked against me. The odds are in my favor this time.”

  Lynne had to admit that, on some level, the sparks did fly between Nathan and her, but only because he was annoying and self-righteous. Finding someone attractive didn't make for a long-term, steady relationship.

  Lynne kept those arguments to herself. The last thing she needed was for Lorelei to have proof she was right. Lynne would never hear the end of it.

  *****

  Nate made sure to close the blinds before picking up the remote control to turn the channel. The light from the television danced on the bare walls. Stress leaked out of his limbs as his one guilty pleasure popped up on the TV screen.

  He slid deeper into the soft cushions of the recliner, the day's demands forgotten, as the images moved together. As expected, the acting was bad, the false enthusiasm stilted, but who really paid attention to that stuff anyway?

  The woman posed, a secret glint in her eye. Nate sat forward. The woman opened her mouth, and he waited for the punch line, “This necklace can be yours for only three payments of $19.95.”

  God, he loved infomercials.

  The phone rang inside his pocket. He debated on answering. This was the one part of his day he looked forward to, outside of possibly closing a deal. The phone rang again. He sighed and pressed the mute button on the TV. Only one person would be calling him this late at night.

  “Hi, Mom,” he answered.

  “Don't you just sound chipper to be hearing from me? You know I wouldn't call if you visited. You know, come by. Check my pulse yourself. For all you know I could be dead.”

  He placed his elbow on the arm of the chair to prop up the phone to his ear. “I would know. Between the maid, the car, the grocery, the security service, trust me, I would know.

  She harrumphed. “I'm starting to think you don't want to see me.”

  He glanced at the TV in time to see a fifty-piece set of Tupperware. “Soon, Mom. After I close this last deal, I'm coming home.”

  “Hopefully not to try and talk me into moving again.”

  That's exactly what he had planned to do. She still lived in the house his father had bought her as a wedding gift. He understood the sentimental value, but the neighborhood Nathan grew up in was the same one that left him fatherless when fate wrote Senior's name on a bullet.

  He closed his eyes on the memories. “How's King? Did you take him to the vet?”

  Nate relaxed at her sigh of defeat. She would leave the subject alone for now. He couldn't deal with thoughts of Senior. Not so soon after his competition had pegged him in less than fifty words. He'd handed over his one weakness. He knew better. Knew how to keep a poker face even when the odds were against him.

  But the moment she talked about success—

  “Nathan Omar Craine, Junior.”

  Shit. He really needed to stop thinking about Lynne. “Sorry, Mom, it's someone at the door.”

  She sighed again, and he had to fight the instinctive guilt. “Call me when you get the chance.”

  “Okay,” he said, even though he knew he wouldn't. So did she.

  “Same time tomorrow,” she said. “I love you.”

  She hung up, probably knowing he wouldn't say it back. Nate hit the mute button again and tried to find the Zen he had when he first sat down. His mother didn't understand. He couldn't come back home yet. Not until he'd acquired the last piece of his business. Hart and Style. Lynne, no matter how hard she fought, wouldn't stop him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next morning, Nate whistled the tune of Andy Griffin on his way to the shop. The town had started to grow on him. It had a Mayberry atmosphere. He glanced at a house to his left. Gnomes littered the perfectly, square, and green yard. A woman across the street waved at him while walking her dog.

  He actually waved back. Suppressing the urge to smell the rosebushes, Nate turned the corner on to Main Street. Valley City was quaint, but still predictable. All the big shops were on Main Street. The street also served as the junction to the major highway. The light posts had an authentic period appearance. Grade-A picturesque. The city gave him the kind of feeling that the world could be perfect.

  Except today there was a line down the block. His steps slowed. The word about his fifty-percent-off sale had gotten around town. From the size of the line, it hadn't taken long. The whistle died on his lips as he got closer. The line stretched past his door, blocking the entrance to his shop.

  “Excuse me,” he said, attempting to slip through.

  “Hey, aren't you the new guy?” a woman asked and offered her hand.

  He took it, hoping his impatience didn't show on his face. “I am.”

  She didn't let go of his hand. The gleam in her eyes told Nate he wasn't going to escape easily. “You know, I was just thinking that Mack used to own Megan's store. He wanted yours to expand but could never come up with the money to buy it.”

  The name hit him in the chest. Nate could almost hear the gruff voice again. Mack had offered condolences to him when Senior had been murdered. Mack, was the same man who had been willing to give his father the store at a fair price.

  He attempted to pull back his hand, but she held on. “Mack?”

  “Yes, Mack. I can't remember what he sold, though. He was there one day, gone out of business the next.”

  The older woman pulled his arm through hers and dragged him a couple of feet. He received a few looks as they cut in the line.

  “It's not a problem if you don't remember.” He tried to reassure her and get his arm back. He remembered very well what type of store Mack had. “I'm trying to get into Hart and Style.”

  “Leslie,” she yelled, ignoring his protests.

  When the other woman's gaze landed on them, she rolled them. The track suit swished as she folded her arms over her chest. “What, Marcy?” />
  The older woman dragged him another two feet. “Don't mind her. Waiting in line makes her grumpy.” She lowered her voice and whispered behind her hand. “Plus, she's been the same height since the third grade. Short people.”

  She focused back on the woman with a smile on her face. “What did Mack use to sell?”

  Leslie grabbed his free arm. “Would you leave the man alone? I'm sure he doesn't give a flying fig about what Mack used to sell.”

  The crowd seemed to push in closer around them. Okay, maybe not Mayberry.

  “I'm trying to get inside,” he said. “If you two would excuse me?”

  Nate didn't wait for either of them to acknowledge his curt sentence. He successfully squeezed and excused his way inside Hart and Style unharmed and free from more gossip. Searching the store, he released a breath and then heard the glee in Lynne's voice. He followed the sound and spotted her at the cash register.

  He had expected her to sulk for a week or two. Assumed Lynne would consider her options and come to him, tail between her legs. Instead, she saw him, waved and dismissed his presence to focus on the next customer.

  A moment too late he realized his mouth had dropped open. Snapping it shut, he glanced around the shop. It looked the same. No sign had been put up for a sale, but he'd had to elbow his way in. What type of hype did she build overnight? He had to know, because the first three rules of a business take over was Know Thy Enemy.

  Nate excused himself until he stood next to Lynne behind the counter.

  He asked, “What's this?”

  She smiled at him. “Kicking your ass.”

  Lynne pushed a stack of clothes his way. “Might as well help. I doubt your store will be busy today. No more than your minion can handle.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she held her hand up to stop him. “The last time I checked, talking didn't fold clothes.”

  Because he needed to know what in the hell was really going on, Nate shut up and helped for the next few hours. She put him to work like he was on her payroll.