A Fine Romance (17 page)

“He’s a struggling actor.” Ivy lowered her voice to a whisper.
“According to Milo, Hays is talented, but keeps getting cast in bad productions.
He can’t break out of the community theater circuit. Which is a plus for us,
because it diminishes the chance he’ll make it big and leave you in the
lurch.”

That explained the leading-man good looks. Given his connection
to Milo, it also made her briefly wonder which side of the sexual fence he
grazed on. “Not really a big enough reason to hire him.”

Ivy rolled her head around, cracking her neck. “I’m coming at
this backward. As a struggling actor, he’s worked for years in retail. Has
experience with all sorts of customers. The acting experience helps him pour on
the charm. He’ll be able to flirt with the women and help the
out-of-their-element men feel comfortable. We’re lucky to be able to scoop him
up.”

He sounded good in theory. But so did Communism, before anyone
put it into effect and discovered what a disservice it did to most of the
population of a once-happy empire. “What about references? I need more than
Milo’s seal of approval.”

“Forwarded to you before I left the office. I thought you’d
prefer to speak with them. Look, I’m not trying to step on your toes. On paper,
he adds up to a perfect fit. Why not give him a one-week trial run, through the
preview? You can even keep interviewing people. But you need help lined up
before we open.”

The idea of a probationary period worked for her as a
compromise. “Okay.”

“Great.”

“As long as you promise to stop with the winking. My job as
your best friend is to let you know the cold, hard truth. It isn’t cute. Looks
like you have Tourette’s. Stick to flashing Ben your bedroom eyes.”

Ivy fluttered her eyelashes. “They do work well.” She bustled
to the front door. “I’ll leave you two alone to get acquainted. Daph, are you
coming back with me? We have the Clough-Nakano consult in less than half an
hour.”

After nipping back to grab her bakery bag, Daphne waggled her
fingers in a goodbye. “Slave driver,” she muttered, following Ivy out the
door.

Mira eyed the almost too-handsome man lounging against a
display case. It could be a brilliant fit, or it could be Milo hooking up an
unsuitable friend. Time would tell. “Hays Dellimore. Tell me, is that your real
name?”

“Nah. Stage name. Lewis Keller just doesn’t have that
theatrical ring to it. Don’t worry—I’ll fill out the W-2 with my legal name, so
it’ll all be on the up-and-up.”

“I hear you’ve worked in stores—”

Hays cut in and corrected her, raising one eyebrow.
“Boutiques.”

“My apologies. You have years of experience selling in
boutiques. Generally populated by high-class customers, sometimes difficult to
please. Do you enjoy it?”

He flashed a wide, disarming smile. “Immensely.”

“Why?”

“When people come to see one of my plays, they get a reprieve
from life for two hours. They’re happy, even get a little serotonin buzz that
lingers, like the endorphin rush after working out. When I help people shop, the
same thing happens. They derive pleasure from the treasure hunt, from the thrill
of victory. I help make them happy. What could be better?”

“What could be better, indeed?” Mira had to hand it to him. It
was the perfect answer. It mirrored her own feeling. A thin layer of stress
flaked off as if Hays were an emotional loofah. “Alright, I’ll offer you a trial
run for a week, through preview. If we’re both still happy after that, the job
is yours. Of course you’ll be compensated for your time either way. I may run
you ragged, since we’re up against a time crunch,” she warned. Better to set out
her expectations right from the start.

“I’m not afraid of hard work.”

A man after her own heart. Almost starting to sound too good to
be true. But she’d take her chances. “Can you start right away?”

“I’d like that.” He pushed off the display case full of
heart-shaped lockets. “I took a quick peek around while you two debated my
merits.” A self-deprecating smile, this time. “This store is full of beautiful
things. None more so than the manager.”

Mira appreciated compliments as much as any woman. However, she
also knew how less-than-impressive she looked at the moment, after spending the
morning sweeping, dusting and sanding the edge of a kitchen cabinet that didn’t
close quite flush. Most men tossing out a line that cheesy and obvious would be
feeling her coldest, withering stare already. Yet Hays’s assertion had the
crystal clear peal of sincerity to it. And his eyes were full of nothing but
appreciation. He made her feel pretty. Then it hit her.

“You’re auditioning for me, aren’t you? Showing me how nicely
you can turn on the charm and treat our customers?”

He shrugged, the movement rippling his pecs and abs in a
cascade of muscle. “You caught me. How’d I do?”

Mira laughed, more and more delighted every second with her new
addition. “You get extra points for thinking to impress me, unasked, as well as
a big thumbs-up for your performance.”

“I like to flirt. Why not use my talent to make women feel good
about themselves?”

“As long as you don’t overstep,” she cautioned.

“Don’t worry. I have a strict policy against dating the
customers. And coworkers,” he hastened to add. “But, to be clear, you
are
a beautiful woman. You have luminous skin.”

What red-blooded man ever complimented a woman on her skin?
Only the ones who weren’t interested in women. With that one comment, Hays made
it clear he pledged his allegiance to the rainbow flag. She’d have to warn Sam
that she wouldn’t be the only one throwing lustful looks his way anymore.

“I think you’ll definitely be an asset when it comes to moving
merchandise.” Mira shook his hand. “Welcome to A Fine Romance. And in the spirit
of reciprocity, I should mention you’re not too hard on the eyes, either.”

“I do a little modeling on the side. Just local catalogs and
stores. Great place to pick up dates, walking the catwalk.” He picked up the
broom like a knight hoisting a lance. “Do you mind if I look around and acquaint
myself with the layout for five minutes? Then you can ask me to do, well,
anything, boss.” Hays winked, and pulled it off with all the smooth aplomb Ivy
had miserably lacked.

Mira patted him on the arm. “Take your time. Get
comfortable.”

“Like hell he will,” Sam bellowed from the doorway. He’d bent
at the waist, leaning so far out she was amazed he hadn’t toppled over. And if
this was a cartoon, he’d have twin plumes of steam curling from his temples,
along with angry red darts shooting from his eyes. Damn it. She knew having the
top of that door open would lead to trouble.

Chapter Twelve

Both halves of the Dutch door slammed shut behind Mira. She glanced at the mother and two toddlers seated at a café table, all slurping hot chocolate. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

He’d talk with her anywhere, as long as it got her away from the smooth-talking muscle boy in her store. With a gentle palm against the soft nape of her neck, Sam steered her down the hallway, stopping just short of the entrance to his cooler. “I’ve got to stay visible in case Marla and her daughters need a refill. This is as private as we get.”

“Understood.” Mira crossed her arms over her chest, to his disappointment. “We agreed to not talk to each other during the workday, not to indulge in our relationship. But evidently I should’ve added that you have no say on how I conduct my business. Care to explain yourself?”

“Me? You’re the one hanging all over Mr. Muscles.”

She huffed out a breath hard enough to lift her bangs off her forehead. “Exaggerate much? For crying out loud, I touched his arm. Let’s see, I also ran by the pharmacy this morning. Pretty sure the pharmacist and I touched fingers when he handed over my bag. Oh, and a guy running for a taxi slammed right into me. Full contact. Got a problem with all of that touching, too?”

“Only if they also mentioned your ‘luminous skin.’” On the last two words he made air quotes with his fingers. What the hell kind of a compliment was that, anyway? Had to be one of the worst lines he’d ever heard. Worse still, Mira seemed to have liked it.

“You were eavesdropping on me?”

Nice try, but he refused to let her turn the tables. Daphne’s the one who left the door open. Why should he take the blame? “Not on purpose. I delivered the hot chocolates, and as I came back around I heard you two obnoxiously flirting the day away.”

“I can’t take credit for this oldie but goodie.” She spread her arms wide, palms up in exasperation. “Don’t listen to other people’s conversations. You might not like what you hear.”

Yeah, he knew that now. “Not the point.”

“You’re right. The point is that you can’t holler at people in my store.”

Sam crossed his arms, mirroring her. “I can when they’re making a move on my woman.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh.”

“What?”

Rising onto her tiptoes, Mira kissed him on the cheek. Her lips were as soft and luscious as crème brûlée. “You’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

Torn between enjoying the kiss and annoyance, Sam gave in to his aggravation and stepped away. “Men aren’t adorable. We’re rugged, or sexy. Sea otters are adorable.”

“I notice you’re not disputing your obvious jealousy.”

How was that a bad thing? Didn’t it prove how much Sam liked her? Damn it, he wanted her all to himself. “So what if I am jealous? How am I supposed to work when ten feet away someone’s trying to get in your pants?”

Mira wound her arms around his neck. “I hear healthy competition is a motivator for men. Maybe this will give you the encouragement necessary to get into my pants first.”

First? Was there a line Sam didn’t know about? Should he have taken a number? Then sheer gratitude for his apron washed through his brain. With Mira rubbing against him like that, there was about to be a big-ass bulge in his jeans that none of his customers should see. “Mira, there’s kids in here.”

“I know. Just one minute...” She licked the edge of his jawline, then again on the side of his neck where he knew his pulse had to be jackhammering. Easing back, she drew her index finger along the hollow at his collarbone and held it up on display. The end of her finger was now covered in lime-green frosting. “I was cleaning up the splatters.” With a wide-eyed innocence that belied the porn-star suction of her lips, she licked it off. “Tasty. Citrus?”

“Mostly.” Sam pointed at the multilayer cake he’d walked away from when he’d glimpsed ridiculously handsome guy flirting with her. “Margarita flavored. The bride and groom got engaged in Mexico, so they’re shoving the whole sombrero and mariachi thing down their guests’ throats.”

“Oh, no shoving required. It’s delicious. Like everything in this bakery.” Mira popped off a flirty grin. “Including the handsome baker.”

He’d take a wild guess that she wasn’t bothered anymore by his interruption. But the reason behind it still didn’t sit well with Sam. “We didn’t set many ground rules as things have progressed. You should know that my eye doesn’t wander when I’ve got a girl locked in my sights. Kind of assumed it was the same way for you. If not,” he rolled his shoulders, trying to work past the tightness that suddenly seized all his muscles, “then just be up front. If I don’t have a claim on you, I deserve to know.”

“Don’t you get it, Sam?” Mira headed for the doorway, a mysterious smile tilting upward. “I’m waiting for
you
to stake your claim. Plant your flagpole on top of the mountain. And I don’t mean theoretically. Figure it out. Fast. I’m tired of waiting.” She crossed into her store and paused, one hand on the frame. “Get used to seeing Hays over here, by the way. He just joined the team. But don’t worry about him. I’ve got, hmm, two too many breasts for him to ever be interested in me.” She slammed the door shut, bolting top and bottom.

It took Sam a second to catch up. The too-handsome-for-his-own-good guy must be gay. Which meant there weren’t any others making a play for Mira. She’d been egging him on because...God, he was an idiot. If she’d whipped off her pants and twirled them above her head, she couldn’t have made her intentions any clearer.

The past couple of days had been torture, not being able to get his hands back on her. He’d almost told his poor, widowed mother to get one of her friends to drive her on the great bingo face-off. Of course, guilt poked the soft, fleshy underside of his heart a moment later with all the subtlety of the stingray barb that caught that crocodile-hunting guy right in his ventricles. What kind of a son chose sex—no matter how earth-shattering it promised to be—over his mom?

Luckily, Mom had plans tonight with a friend. He’d been planning to call Mira to see if she had the energy to go out. Sam knew she’d been working like a dog to get the store ready. Now, though, he didn’t need to check. Although the actual door between them was firmly closed, she’d pretty much opened the metaphorical door, stuck out a welcome mat, lit candles and baked him a cake. Good thing he had all day ahead of him to plan the next step, with Javon and Isaiah coming in to work a shift. He’d give Mira until exactly five o’clock. With the amount of need pooling in his pants right now, it’d be a miracle if she still had any clothes on ten minutes later.

* * *

The bakery was dim, lit only by the soft glow in the display cases. Sam had turned everything else off an hour ago. Mixer cleaned, dishes washed and dough prepped for his mother to start the early baking predawn. After buckling to his nerves—the good kind—he’d closed the shop early and ran around making preparations.

While Sam had enjoyed the hell out of their make-out session in the elevator at the Cavendish, Mira deserved more than a quick screw against the wall. She deserved romance by the bucketload. This wasn’t just sex with his hot and convenient neighbor. They were building something here. So he’d scrambled around getting things ready. Even shaved off his heavy-by-three-o’clock shadow.

When he got back to the bakery, he’d eased open the connecting door a crack. Not to intrude. Just to know the moment she turned the key behind the back of her new employee. No such luck. Quitting time came and went. He’d mopped the floor, practically scrubbing divots in the aged linoleum in an attempt to take the edge off his feverish desire. Yet still the two of them worked and chatted and laughed, the sound like nails down a chalkboard to him.

The freaking sun had set half an hour ago. Sam knew he’d already crossed a line once today, intruding on her business. No way could he give in to instinct, pull a caveman routine and go over there and drag her back to his lair. Patience was his only option. It was killing him.

“Good night, Hays. Thanks so much for all your hard work today.” Mira’s voice set him off like a starting gun at a racetrack. He shot through the door, leading with his shoulder to push it open.

“Sam?” Surprise colored her tone as she finished locking the front door. “Isn’t it late for you to be at work?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t manage more than that one word. His mouth dried up just looking at her, knowing what he hoped like hell they were about to do.

“You look so nice.”

Self-conscious, he smoothed the front of his midnight-blue shirt. Gib called it The Closer. Sam just knew that, paired with his black slacks, it worked in any romantic situation from casual date to fancy restaurant. In other words, nice enough to hopefully entice Mira back through the door. “As you pointed out, the green frosting left its mark all over me. The Kermit look isn’t really in right now.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“You.”

Mira dropped her keys to the floor. “Excuse me?”

Shit. For two seconds, his dick had taken over the speech center of his brain. He scrambled to fix it. “I, uh, hope you’re not too worn out. It’s late for you to be here, too.”

She turned off the bank of lights that covered the front half of the store. “Are you kidding? Today was easy. Amazing what a difference having another person makes. Hays is tireless and motivated and enthusiastic.”

Sam could be all those things. Hell, he was all those things. Just not about her store. But the minute he got Mira into his bed, he’d show her just how tireless he could be. “I’m glad you finally have some help.”

She disappeared into the back office for a minute, then reappeared carrying a lavender windbreaker, folded to show the Aisle Bound logo. “Me, too. At first, it bothered me that Ivy hired him without consulting me. I mean, I know it’s
her
store on paper, but at this point, it’s really
my
store. The problem is that I took it personally.” Mira closed her eyes and shook her head. “Entirely the wrong reaction. Hiring Hays was just good business. Ivy had the best interest of the store at heart. We both do. Silly of me to get so possessive. After spending the day with him, I can tell Hays is going to work out great.”

He had to stop her. When Mira started talking about the store, she tended to keep going indefinitely. On a normal night, Sam didn’t mind. Full of passion, Mira could make reciting the multiplication tables interesting. Tonight, however, he would not be swayed from his mission.

“Mira.”

She paused in shoveling the entire contents of the countertop into her purse. “Yes?”

How to begin without just jumping her? “You’re very smart.”

“Thank you. Any particular reason you’re dispensing that compliment? I don’t remember saying anything brilliant since you walked in.”

“You gave me some sage advice this morning.”

“Really?” She looked pleased, then slid her purse strap onto her arm. “The day’s been crazy. Refresh my memory. How brilliant was I?”

“Very.” Sam batted at the rest of the light switches with his elbow. Now they were both backlit by only the dim light filtering over from the bakery. He strode forward, full of purpose and hoping like hell he’d read all her earlier signals right. “You told me to stake my claim. I’d have to be dead ten years and brainless not to act on that invitation.” Framing her tiny waist with his hands, Sam bent over her, his mouth a breath away from her. “I know you’ve had a long day, and a longer week, and a draining six months. But do you think I can entice you to stay up with me tonight? Just the two of us? Nobody else, no interruptions, and no clothes?”

Mira’s breath caught. “Trust me.
I’d
be the brainless idiot if I turned down an offer that good.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Now put your legs around me,” he ordered. It took no effort to lift her to meet his kiss. He’d spent the entire afternoon telling himself to take it slow. Yet the moment their lips met, even the possibility of going slow went right out the window. Especially with her legs hugging his waist and her breasts tight against his chest. Heat flashed between them, a spark almost visible in the darkness. They were through the door in two steps. Sam kicked it shut with his foot.

In the cooler he had already plated chicken salad, broccoli in a lemon vinaigrette and a raspberry mousse pie. Sam readjusted his plan for the night. All the food would be there when they finished. Unless she called a hunger time-out, Mira’s dinner would have to wait. Because he sure as hell couldn’t any longer.

“Did I mention how nice you look?”

“You did.”

“I mention it again, because I’ve simply got to touch you. If you don’t take that very nice shirt off right this second, I’m going to rip it off you with my teeth.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Sam turned sideways to slide into the work area, then adjusted his grip on Mira to one hand supporting her ass. With the other he pulled open the door to the cold room. In most restaurants they called a closet-sized refrigerator a walk-in. But at Lyons Bakery, the entire back of the store had been turned into a refrigerated room. It was impossible to bake a four-tier wedding cake from scratch, frost and decorate it the same day and deliver it. On any given week there might be five or six cakes in various stages of decoration on the glassed-in refrigerated shelves, along with an entire rack of cake layers. He’d also carved out a small section for his chocolate truffles. In the middle of the room sat his white marble island, where all the magic happened. Why break tradition?

Candles burned in the sink, giving off a flickering light that danced shadows across the walls. He set her on the end of the island, leaving her legs dangling. Then, ever respectful of her needs, Sam quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it into a corner. “Happy now?”

Mira placed her palms on his chest and started rubbing in slow, teasing circles. “Very.”

“Uh-huh. I demand equity and fair play in this relationship. Yours, too.”

In a flash, Mira tugged her shirt over her head, revealing a lacy cream bra. “Satisfied?”

“No. That’s not going to work at all for what I have planned.”

She looked down at her chest. “What’s wrong with my bra? Remember, I didn’t know we were having a date tonight, or I would’ve pulled out the really good undies.”