The Harder They Fall (5 page)

Trisha rolled her eyes.

“No, I swear. There was this little mouse, and she had this great big mean aunt mouse who—” She broke off at Trisha’s long look. “Well, I did.”

“You’ve been reading that dream-interpretation book again, by that New Age guru Dr. What’s-his-name, haven’t you?”

“So?”

“Honey, you have
way
too much time on your hands.”

“Tell me what’s the matter,” Celia said stubbornly, uninsulted.

“Nothing.” Trisha let Celia take over displaying the stock. How could she concentrate on silky underthings when at this very moment, her new neighbor—and the bane of her existence—was moving in?
Rules?
The very thought had her insides tightening uncomfortably. She’d had enough rules to last her a lifetime. “No rules,” she vowed, not realizing she spoke out loud.

“Right.” Celia smirked. “Landlords always have rules. And now you’re going to live with yours.”

“I’m not living
with
him, just above him. And I’m a grown-up. I’ll do what I want.” A little sliver of doubt crept up her spine. Too many years under unrelentingly strict authority, she thought miserably. It wouldn’t start again, it wouldn’t.

“It’s not an easy thing,” Celia commented, watching her carefully. “Doing what you want. Not when you’ve never been allowed to.”

“I’m doing fine.”

“Yeah. Now that Hilda’s dead and buried.” Her voice was soft and kind, and so was the hand she laid on Trisha’s arm. “I’m proud of you Trish, real proud. You’ve created a life for yourself, and you deserve that more than anyone I know. But as much as you pretend to be wild and free, just below the surface lives that repressed, frightened girl you used to be.”

“I’m not repressed and frightened,” Trisha protested, self-consciously yanking down the upward-creeping hem of her dress. “Look,” she said, gesturing to the lace peeking out her cleavage. “Does this look like a woman who’s repressed?”

Celia laughed, her eyes warm. “Sweetie, I
know
you. You’re constantly checking to make sure you’re not showing too much. Didn’t you just return that fabulous leopard shipment because it seemed too daring for the shop? Face it,” she said gently. “It’s not easy for you to let go.”

“I’m selling lingerie, aren’t I?”

“Yes, and you’re doing a wonderful job. But you’re still not comfortable with it. That’s okay, it’ll come. But let this landlord thing slide off your back. Don’t let him get to you. There’s always another place.”

“No!” Trisha took a deep breath and forced herself not to yank up the bodice of her dress. She’d moved eighteen times in eighteen years and had promised herself never to do it again. She loved her place, and Eloise had wanted her to have it.

She
wouldn’t
move. “I just want to be free to do what I want. That’s all. It’s not asking too much, I know that.”

“Well, you’ve done what you want here,” Celia said, glancing around the shop. There were at least eight people milling around the small place and it was only noon. “We’re keeping our heads above water. Most businesses fail in their first year, but not this one. Thank God, since we’ve both grown fond of eating. Some of us more than others, of course,” she added with a grimace at Trisha’s lean, petite figure, then down at her own slightly too curvaceous one.

With a sense of satisfaction Trisha looked around the shop. Organized chaos reigned. Leather and Lace was located in the very favorable area of Old Town Pasadena, where locals and tourists alike walked the quaintly gentrified streets night and day. As a result, she was almost always busy. Her clientele ran the gamut from businessmen to college students, and all their trade was equally important to Trisha. She loved this shop with a passion that didn’t surprise her, since the place signified her first taste of freedom.

“I almost forgot,” Celia said, biting her lip, looking uneasy. “Your uncle Victor called. Said he missed you at home over the weekend.”

Just the name unleashed a flood of miserable memories along with feelings of overwhelming guilt, self-doubt, and low self-esteem. She tugged at her dress again. “I’ll call him back later.”

“He said you wouldn’t.” Celia shrugged. “Hey, don’t give me that trapped-doe look. I avoid my parents when they call too.” She gave Trisha a smacking kiss on the cheek, squeezed her hand, and moved toward a group of tourists. “Good day, ladies. Yes, that’s genuine silk. And let me tell you, it’s heavenly on bare skin....”

Throat tight, Trisha turned away, thankful to have the best friend anyone could ever have. Making her way through the store, she opened the back room, which doubled as a closet and her office. She just needed a minute to relax, and she’d be fine. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes.

“Imagine that I actually thought you were kidding about destroying the floor in your kitchen.”

She jolted at the deep, unbearably seductive voice. Heart hammering, she turned to face the man who had knocked her world off its axis.

Dr. Hunter Adams filled the doorway, watching her quietly.

“It’s a sin to have a voice like that,” she said without thinking, tucking her hands under her folded arms to keep them from yanking at her hem.

“A sin?” He cocked his head questioningly.

His voice could melt the North Pole, but she didn’t see any reason to stroke his ego. Not when he stood there looking at her with an intense, inscrutable gaze. “Never mind.”

“Your shop is ... something.”

She tried not to care about what he really thought of her shop and what she did for a living, but at this moment she didn’t feel strong enough to defend herself. “Yes, it’s something.”

“Have you always done this?”

“You mean sell panties?” She imagined Aunt Hilda rolling over in her grave, and let out a little laugh. “No. But I’ve always wanted to do something unusual.”

“Well, congratulations; you succeeded.”

Her amusement drained. “I’m sure you didn’t drive all the way over here to insult me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t insult you.”

Not with words. “You’ve made no secret of what you think of me and what I do.”

“You have no idea what I think of you,” he murmured. “You seem upset,” he continued in the slow, careful manner that made her think of a man who was stuck in a canoe without a paddle, an image that for some reason made her want to giggle. “Is something the matter?”

Yeah. He was driving her crazy. “No.”

“Hmm. You’re a horrible liar, Trisha. It’s the eyes; they give you away.”

She sighed. So much for her moment of peace and quiet. “How did you find me?”

“I saw you come in here. What’s the matter?”

“I said, nothing.”

His eyes narrowed, and in the tiny space not taken up by her files and the desk, she managed to turn from him. He wasn’t going to let it go, and his probing eyes seemed to see far more than she was willing to explain. If only he’d let her alone for a few more minutes, she could have gotten herself under control. Inhaling deeply, she forced herself to relax her shoulders and drop her arms to her sides. Yeah, the cleavage of her dress slipped and the hem hiked up, but that was what they were supposed to do.

“Trisha. Talk to me.”

Distraction, she decided. He needed to be distracted. “What was that about the floor in my kitchen?” she asked over her shoulder.

Resignation flitted across his features. “My kitchen now has a sort of skylight into yours.”

Again, the urge to giggle shocked her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmmph.”

Control, she reminded herself.
Confidence
. Not easy under the best of circumstances. Next to impossible with this man standing so close to her. “Handy thing, a skylight,” she ventured.

“Not much privacy.” He looked piqued. “I
like
privacy.”

So did she. After enduring years of surprise room searches, it meant everything to her. “Maybe it’s overrated.” Now he glowered and she nearly laughed at how easily she could rile him. “I really am sorry,” she said kindly. “Did you come down here to buy some ... underwear?”

“No.” He seemed to speak through his teeth. “Not from here.”

“I stock some beautiful things,” she pointed out, enjoying his obvious discomfort with the subject. It seemed sort of incongruous, this big, gorgeous man looking so prim and proper. Unless ... Oh dear. “Is there a ... wife?” She held her breath, strangely relieved when he shook his head. Beneath his casual denial she sensed pain, and she knew she had to stop pushing him, but her insatiable curiosity got the better of her. “Girlfriend?”

“I didn’t come to buy underwear, for me or anyone else,” he assured her grimly, taking a step into the only available space left in the entire room—directly in front of her.

No wife, no girlfriend. The knowledge shouldn’t have sent a thrill through her.

“If you don’t want underwear, how about a bathrobe?”

“No, thank you.” He took another step. Their toes touched.

“Nightwear?” she squeaked.

“I don’t wear any.”

“Oh, my,” she whispered.

He filled the office with a sort of devastating male grace, watching her with an unmistakable light of awareness in his eyes. He studied her slowly, from her low neckline, to her short hemline, and everywhere in between.

Suddenly the stuffy scientist didn’t seem so stuffy, but the room sure did. “What
did
you come for?” she asked, her voice low and quavering.

His jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath, which brought him within a fraction of an inch from Trisha, who suddenly couldn’t breathe. Slowly, she tipped back her head and looked at him, swallowing hard at his intense expression.

“Hunter?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here?”

A wordless sound of frustrated humor escaped from him. “I haven’t the foggiest.” His big hands touched her shoulders. “For some ridiculous reason, looking at you made me forget.”

“You forgot? That’s ridiculous—”

But the words were swallowed by his mouth.

Four

Before Trisha could draw a startled breath, Hunter had gathered her close to him and gently slanted his mouth over hers. Despite her “seize the day” philosophy, she’d kissed only a few times before. But even with her inexperience, she knew Hunter was no ordinary kisser. She could feel the strength in his arms, the immense power in his body, and how he held it all in check. The challenge was there, certainly, so was the provocation, but all without the demand she’d have expected, and she trembled at the onslaught of surprising, gut-wrenching passion. Inhaling the warm, male scent of him, she opened her mouth to his, gripped his shirt, and held on.

Deepening the kiss, Hunter pulled her even closer, making her sigh in delight as she felt herself molding to every inch of his fully aroused body. Instinctively, her hips pressed against his, making him groan softly. Excitement and a delicious shiver traveled up her spine, followed by his hands.

“Shut the door,” he murmured into her mouth, turning them both when she did, nudging her up against the wood.

Trisha, dizzy with a swirling hunger she’d never before experienced, grabbed his shoulders for support as her world spun wildly.

Trailing his lips over her jaw, he whispered hoarsely, “God, Trisha, what are you doing to me?”

She didn’t know, but if it was making his knees half as weak as hers, she could sympathize. But then he nibbled at her ear and she couldn’t think at all. Nothing,
nothing
, had ever felt so good.

Leaning over her, his hands caging her head against the smooth wood of the door, Hunter kissed her throat, then the drumming pulse at the base of her neck.

No longer certain she could stand, Trisha dropped her head back. It hit the door with a thunk. “Hunter,” she managed.

Luckily, he understood the single-word plea, for he brought his arms around her, gently thrusting his thigh between hers. The material of his pants rubbed against the bare skin of her legs. “Oh, my,” she gasped, and he did it again. “Oh, my goodness.”

“So profound,” he whispered, laughter and more than a little awe in his voice.

“It’s just that I had no idea....”

“Me, either.” His mouth came back to hers, hot and hungry. Her dress inched up as his muscled thigh eased her legs farther apart.

She was quivering, hot and cold at the same time. This had never happened to her, and she couldn’t quite believe it was happening now. The crazy impulse to beg him to make love to her right here, standing up against the door, nearly overpowered her. The pure recklessness of the thought startled her so, she surfaced slightly from the mist of arousal.

So many years of being controlled, browbeaten, and too shy and unconfident were washed away in an instant “Hunter, I don’t understand this.” But she pulled his mouth back to hers.

The door slammed open, smacking Trisha in the rump and propelling her full force into Hunter. He grabbed her easily, regaining their balance with an almost feline grace.

“Trish, I—” Celia’s voice seemed loud in the stunned silence of the room.