Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena)(84)
Unless he was offering up a tangled sheets kind of favor, Harper wasn’t interested. In fact, Harper wasn’t interested at all. She didn’t want a favor. She wanted passion, connection, adventure, to be wanted.
And speaking of wanted, she wanted cookies.
Not the kind with sprinkles that her grandmother made, but the kind that only a strong, sexy man could provide. And she wanted a baker’s dozen, she thought as she fished out her keys to open her grandma’s shop. The scent of rosewater and lavender greeted her as she stepped inside and felt as though she were transported back in time. The Boulder Holder was a lingerie shop specializing in vintage seduction for the curvy woman—it also had a great stain remover in the storage closet.
Still at a complete loss, or maybe not so complete, since looking back, the intimate questions Clay had asked earlier were all standard résumé info for applying nannies, Harper closed the door behind her and reached to disarm the alarm—which was already disarmed.
“Dang it, Baby,” Harper mumbled, making a note to reprimand the closing manager for neglecting the alarm again. And, apparently, her job, since there was a vast collection of high-end merchandise hanging outside one of the changing room doors.
The whole point behind hiring a closing manager was so that her grandma could work fewer hours, let someone younger lift heavy boxes and stock the store. Clovis needed to stay off her knee so it could heal from its most recent replacement surgery, but if Baby wasn’t keeping the store working at night, then her grandma would have to put it in order before opening. Which defeated the purpose.
Frustrated, Harper grabbed the stain cleaner and a rag from the closet and walked over to the large gilded mirror on the wall at the far end of the dressing rooms.
Normally being in her grandma’s shop, surrounded by all of the bright fabrics and bold designs, could erase even the worst of days. The shop was every girl next door’s haven—sexy with a touch of sophistication, and a brilliant kaleidoscope of intimates from time periods usually forgotten. A new adventure to be found on each hanger.
Not tonight, she thought, taking in the image staring back at her in the mirror.
Tonight, Harper felt like a big, stupid banana in a specialty candy store.
“Think of the bright side,” she told herself, pulling her arm out of her dress and slipping it off so she could get at the stain easier. “At least he friended you before you showed him your panties.”
The ability to see the bright side of even the worst situations was Harper’s gift. It was how she’d made it through her eclectic childhood—and how she kept her smile genuine. And being thought of as a babysitter didn’t even touch Harper’s worst list.
“If you’d gone at him in those panties, I bet he’d have forgotten all about curfew,” a distinctively male voice said from behind her.
Harper spun around, the scream getting stuck in her throat along with her heart, which had lodged itself there first. Acting on reflex, she threw the only thing she could reach at the tall, dark—emphasis on the dark—and dangerous-looking shadow. Only the shadow’s reflexes were skillfully honed, because he caught the flying object with one hand. Leaving her nearly naked and him holding her favorite daffodil-colored dress.
“Whoa,” the unfamiliar and unwelcome voice said from the dressing room doorway. The male face, though, all it took was two seconds for that to register.
Harper’s fear turned to immediate embarrassment, because standing in her grandma’s darkened shop, holding her dress and a slinky red robe, four hours after closing, was the only man in town who hadn’t put Harper in the friend zone. Because he was the only man in town who Harper hadn’t bothered to friend.
St. Helena firefighter, bro of the year, and legendary ladies’ man—Adam Baudouin.
“What are you doing here?” Harper demanded, looking up at him, and he could see the fire lighting her eyes.
A good question. One Adam had crafted a great answer to when she’d first turned around in that pink, teal, and gold-embroidered number with the tiny matching thong, which looked as if she’d recently escaped the Copacabana. Then she’d tossed her dress at him and things had gotten interesting. Little Miss Sunshine wiggled a lecturing finger his way, which caused everything in silk and lace to do a little cha-cha in its own way, and Adam’s mind went to a bad place.
An incredibly good bad place.
Oh, Harper was all sunshine and freckled up top. But she was a secret freaking bombshell below. High breasts, tiny waist, curvy hips, long, lush legs that went on for miles. All that silky skin and willowy allure was as surprising as it was intoxicating. Who knew she kept all that hidden under her Rainbow Brite attire?
Not the dildo with the kid who’d ask her to babysit, that’s for sure. Because if he’d seen the view Adam was privy to, the guy would have taken her inside the shop—and right up against the wall.
“Apparently, I’m just in time for the show,” he said, looking down into her face. With her pert nose, twinkling blue eyes, and wild mass of waves piled on top of her head, she was cute, he decided. The crazy kind of cute.
“There’s no show,” she said. “And what are you staring at?” When he looked his fill in response, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “They’re called boobs, Adam.”
“Oh, trust me, I know, Sunshine,” he said, stepping closer and, being the expert on that subject, sized her up in a single glance. Firm, perky—the perfect little handful who wished she was a C. That explained the creative clothing choices. “Just wasn’t sure if you knew, with your outfit and all.”