Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena)(14)
And that felt good.
So good, Harper actually blushed a little. “Thank you.”
“I have to be honest, though.” Chantel set the wine down without even tasting it, and Harper felt her blush instantly blanch. She clutched the bra and panty to her as tremors of a big but that would no doubt rock the Boulder Holder loose shook the room—and her misplaced confidence. “I’m only here in person because we’ve had such a long-standing relationship with this shop. The team back home has strong concerns with having the Boulder Holder as our exclusive dealer in this territory—”
“Clovis was the first store in the state to carry Lulu Allure. She has always been a loyal client,” Harper quickly pointed out, trying her best to remain calm, but she felt the garments in her hands droop. “In fact, between online and in-store sales, more than a third of the product we sell is Lulu Allure.”
“A third of sales in a small-town shop is quite different from a third of sales in our boutique on Wilshire Boulevard.”
“The Boulder Holder recently moved to the other end of Main Street, which caused some issues with foot traffic.” She tried to keep the desperate edge out of her voice. “But the storefronts in this area have filled up, foot traffic has increased as you can see, and come August, when the harvest is in full swing and wedding parties flood to the valley, the tourists will outnumber the residents ten to one.”
“I’m sure they will, but it’s not the foot traffic I’m the most concerned about. It’s brand protection. There’s a reason Louis Vuitton can’t be purchased at Walmart.” Chantel softened her voice in that apologetic way that gave Harper heartburn. “Look, Lulu Allure is grateful for everything Clovis has done for us over the years, but we are expanding, taking our brand in a new direction with our fall line, and your clientele is not our target.”
Harper felt her stomach tighten. “But our online customers are your exact target. Young, edgy movers and shakers of wine country and the greater Bay Area. During the tourist season we are flooded with dot-commers, Hollywood expats, and of course the Silicon Valley elite.”
Chantel took in a deep breath and met Harper’s gaze. Harper wasn’t sure what the woman was looking for, but she gave her best smile, and then, remembering that sexy is a state of mind, pictured herself how she’d felt the other night—her hair down, her lips swollen, and Adam whispering her name—and lifted that lingerie set back up.
“Another show and I didn’t get a call? I gotta say, sunshine, I’m hurt.”
Harper spun around and found Adam standing in the doorway to the room, dressed in his fitted SHFD blues, displaying his tanned skin and lethal dimples, looking like the cover of a sexy fireman calendar.
Which he actually was.
He was also sipping on a to-go coffee cup while watching Harper model the bra-and-panty set. The spark in his baby blues said he liked what he saw—and suddenly Harper saw the power of sexy is a state of mind in action.
One grin from him and Harper felt her inner goddess strap on stilettos and lace, and strut right over her well-devised plans—which were imperative in saving this meeting, and her grandma’s shop.
What are you doing here?” Harper asked in a welcoming tone that was in direct contrast with the go screw yourself glare she was shooting him.
“Good morning to you too,” Adam said, ignoring her daggers and walking close enough to finger the lace edging of the panties. “Parisian peek-a-boos? My favorite.”
Harper felt something strange shift in her stomach. The cause was unclear. Was it some kind of post-traumatic flutters caused from the memory of Adam’s hands on her peek-a-boos, or a growing irritation at how his mere presence could cause complete havoc in her world?
Perhaps it was both.
“You’re familiar with our When in Paris line?” Chantel asked, surprise and excitement radiating from her tone.
Adam looked over Harper’s shoulder and raised a questioning brow at the sight of company. It was good to know he hadn’t interrupted them due to rudeness. Just ignorance, she thought. He was having way too much fun at her expense, and the gleam in his eyes told her it was about to go from fun to entertaining—for him.
God! How could he push her buttons and push her buttons with equal measure?
It was baffling.
“Go away,” she whispered.
“And ignore the pretty lady’s question?” he whispered back and shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my gentlemanly reputation.”
Harper snorted and he frowned. An honest to goodness frown, as if her reaction irritated him.
“I know the line intimately,” he said, stepping completely into the room and grazing Harper’s hip with his hand as he did it, before addressing Chantel like a gentleman. What a load of BS. “Although I’m partial to the brighter, party colors.”
“Party colors?” Chantel asked, and Adam flashed one of his trademark grins she’d seen him use many a time on many a woman—including her. Last Friday.
It was clear Chantel, with her big-city sex appeal and I-do-yoga body, was Adam’s type. If Harper didn’t intervene, Adam would likely charm Chantel right out of this meeting and into his bed. Not that she cared who he took to his bed, as long as it didn’t impact her plan.
“He is referring to the Moulin Rouge set,” Harper said, poking him in the back—hard. “Adam, this is Chantel Larue from Lulu Allure.” Harper gave Adam her most intimidating look, the one she used on her students when they needed to keep their hands to themselves, then plastered a smile on her face and turned to Chantel. “Chantel, this is Adam.”