A Fine Romance (20 page)

“Guess you really are serious about her.” Gib chuckled, then smoothly shifted as the light turned. “Maybe we should be worried about Mira breaking your heart.”

Like he didn’t worry about that every damn day already. Mira Parrish was a million times too good for him. “Now who doesn’t have any faith? I’m crazy about her. All indications are that she feels the same way about me. As long as A Fine Romance has a smooth opening and racks up some good word of mouth, she’ll stay put. I’ll get to keep her.”

Ben whapped the back of Sam’s head. “She’s not a hamster, Sam. You can’t sew your name into her underwear and declare ownership.”

“Yeah—you’re going a little too
Of
Mice
and
Men
on us.”

Trust the Brit to channel his boarding school style and drop a literary reference into a stupid argument about love. “You’re right. I’ll have at least a shot of keeping her—how’s that?”

Gib swung into the parking lot of what, to the uninitiated, would look like a common strip mall. In fact, it held one of the best brew pubs in the country. He yanked up the parking brake and unclipped his seat belt to turn and face Sam. “I understand your motivation. But getting this store off the ground is something Mira needs to do all by herself. It’ll be hard, but you can’t do anything besides stand back and watch.”

Ben waggled his hand back and forth. “Well, a little motivational nightly sex might help.”

For Christ’s sake. Didn’t they think he knew how to treat a woman? “I’ve got that angle covered.” Did he ever. They were both walking bowlegged after the past few days. Mira wore him out, in the best possible way. He needed to bet hard and heavy tonight, to wrap the game up early so he could get back to her.

Still, Ben pushed at him. “Sure you don’t want to tell us what else is wrong? Your mom’s not sick again, is she?”

“No.”

“Business seems steady.” Gib locked that glacial blue stare on him. “I hear you’re booked almost a year in advance for wedding cakes. What’s with the money trouble? Did you hit the tables too hard at that casino out by the airport?”

“No. When would I have time to do that? Wedding season’s still in full swing for another month, at least.”

“Quit dancing around like a ballerina and tell us what the fuck is wrong.” Ben pulled his feet back and hung his elbows on the front seats. His leather jacket made a farting noise as it skated across the leather as he moved into position. “We might be able to help. Especially Viscount Moneybags over there.”

“No. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. I’m telling you, in a week, this conversation won’t matter. Everything will shake out, one way or the other.”

Sam threw open his door and pushed out of the low-slung car. It reassured him to know Gib and Ben were there, even if he didn’t accept their help. Kind of like the security-blanket twenty he hid behind his driver’s license. Never used it, but liked to know it was there. “Are you two going to Sigmund Freud me all night? Because I’m starting to think you’re stalling. Doesn’t matter how late we start, I’m still going to end up with your cash.”

Chapter Fourteen

Mira stood on the raised platform of A Fine Romance’s window display. A hand-painted kimono dangled from her fingertips. The delicate ivory fabric became see-through in the shaft of weak sunlight piercing a sliver of blue sky between the heavy clouds. Dainty cherry blossoms wrapped around one breast, trailed a tendril at the waist and then twined all the way down to the hem. The artist also did heavy silk kimonos in jewel tones for men covered in thick trees and fire-breathing dragons. All unique, incredible pieces of wearable art. Mira intended to charge
two
arms and a leg for them, and only take orders, not sell any off the rack. She’d lay money on there being a waiting list by week two.

But for now, she was trying to decide if the sheer fabric was too overt to be part of the display. Hinting at romance was fine. Selling sex crossed the line and sent the wrong message. Maybe draped across the edge of a chair, the transparency wouldn’t be so obvious. Although, she knew the diaphanous quality to the fabric to be its best-selling feature. Mira held it up one more time. Wavering over a decision like this was definitely considered a first-world problem. It brought home the sheer fun of her job, picking out and playing with pretty things. Passing them on to others and sharing the joy just intensified the fun.

But with the soft opening already under way, she needed to stop dithering about the display. How could she tease Helen about rearranging the cheese every five minutes if she did the same thing with the displays? A tallish, too-skinny brunette fiddling in the window certainly wouldn’t help move merchandise. Mira stepped down and made her way back to the cash register. The bell on the door jingled its alert that her fourteenth customer had just arrived. She vowed to stop counting once they officially opened.

“Good morning. Welcome to A Fine Romance. Let me know if you need any help.”

A man of average height strode straight to her, not bothering to browse on his way to the counter. “I’m on a coffee break, so I don’t have a lot of time to waste. Can you point me to the good stuff?”

“Of course. But I need a little more information. Are you shopping for someone in particular? A special occasion?” His appearance didn’t give her much to go on. Laptop case slung across his chest, Bluetooth attached to his ear and a sport coat with just enough of a pattern to either make him the edgiest person in the office, or a full-fledged hipster. Glasses and an unremarkable haircut widened his age window from anywhere between twenty-five and forty. Engagement, birthday, anniversary? Mira just couldn’t tell. But she did so enjoy guessing.

“Any occasion’s special if you do it right.” He spun in a circle, palms up and arms out wide. “Come on, I know the really high-quality goods wouldn’t be out here on display. I want what you hold back for the special customers.”

“We like to think all our customers are special.” Did he think she had a safe with black-market diamonds in the back? Mira bobbled between flattered, intrigued and annoyed. Then, remembering that he was only her fourteenth customer, she immediately struck annoyed from the list.

After a quick glance at his watch, he scrubbed his palm across his forehead. “Don’t put me through a whole song and dance, lady.” With a shake of his head, he marched the length of the store. “Do you hide everything away on the second floor? Or is there a special room behind this closed door?” he asked, rapping his knuckles hard against the wood.

“There is, but we don’t generally sell anything from the bathroom. The paper towels and toilet paper are provided free of charge.” Mira kept a pleasant smile on her lips, but knew it no longer brightened her eyes. Experience told her that something was off about this shopper.

“For God’s sake, I promise I’ll spend a wad of cash. No need to make me jump through hoops.” Irritation both roughened and raised his voice.

The top half of the connecting door to the bakery hung wide open. The last thing she needed was this guy losing his temper in front of a crowd of pint-sized cookie addicts and their moms. Mira hurried down the hallway to close the gap between them. “Sir, I’m perfectly willing to help you spend as much money here as you’d like. I’m just not clear on what it is you want to purchase.”

“You’re a romance store, right?”

“Yes, indeed. First of its kind here in Chicago.” To resist the urge to fist-pump the air in glee, she tugged at the hem of her bright red sweater set.

A snort rumbled up from the back of his throat. “Hardly.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure. And I’m certain we carry items you won’t find anywhere else in the city.”

“Now you’re talking.” He jerked his chin toward the front of the store. “That thing you were holding up in the window.”

Aha. The reason behind his odd behavior came clear. The sheer peignoir leaned more toward lingerie than lounging attire. Lots of men were uncomfortable shopping for unmentionables for the opposite sex. Especially with a female salesperson. “Now I understand. You’d like me to show you the robe?”

His eyebrows shot up above his glasses frames. “Hell, yeah.”

“I can show it to you in periwinkle and apricot as well. They’re in my office.” Mira made it all of one step before a strong arm reached out and encircled her waist.

“A nice set of handcuffs and a strong paddle were all I was looking for. Didn’t realize you were the kind of place to model stuff and put on a show for me. I don’t care how much extra it costs—I’ll take the full package.” Sliding lower, his hand cupped her ass and squeezed. Hard.

Mira whirled around, out of his grip. Fear didn’t have time to take hold because her self-defense training kicked in. But as she lifted her knee, the man flew backward. Sam had one hand tight on his belt, and the other around his throat. Her own avenging angel. Who smelled quite strongly of cinnamon sugar.

“Keep your fucking hands off of her,” Sam growled, dragging the frightened man to the front of the store.

“Don’t hurt him,” Mira pleaded. Now that the danger had passed, she couldn’t help it. What kind of a store manager let her fourteenth customer be thrown out or, worse, beaten up?

“I heard—and saw—enough to know this guy didn’t walk in here looking to buy a heart-shaped blanket. The man’s pond scum.” None too gently, Sam spun around to slam the customer’s back against the wall. “How dare you take advantage of a woman like that?”

Gasping and shaking his head, the man held up his hands. “I’m sorry. There’s been a misunderstanding.”

Sam actually growled. Like a wolf. “Obviously. Maybe things will be more clear once I put my fist through your jaw. That’ll teach you not to touch what doesn’t belong to you.”

“Wait. I asked, just to be sure.” With a shaking hand, he pushed his glasses back up his nose. Then he pointed at Mira. “She said this was a romance store. I figured that was a classy name for a sex store. All I wanted was some toys. Light bondage, you know. Then I thought she was offering me a peep show, too. I was going to pay, I swear. Even planned to tip the hot chick.”

Guilt swamped Mira. She couldn’t let Sam keep intimidating this poor man. Not when the mix-up was her fault. No matter how much her genetic imprinting of a medieval maiden thrilled at his knight-in-shining-armor routine. “Sam, back off.” She laid a hand on his arm to soften the request.

He complied by taking two steps back, spreading his feet wide and crossing his arms over his chest. Even wearing an apron and with flour dusting his hair, Sam still looked mean and dangerous. The position drew his tan thermal shirt tight across his pecs, and bulged out his biceps. Mira hadn’t realized how intrinsically sexy it was to have someone ready to fight on her behalf.

“I’m really, really sorry,” the man babbled at something close to the speed of light. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I believe you. You see, this really is a romance store. Look around,” she said, waving her arm at the sparkling display cases. “Everything we sell makes people think of hearts and flowers and happily ever afters. What we do not sell are the ingredients for the kind of
happy
ending
you had in mind.”

Sam huffed out a breath. “Dude, didn’t you see the refrigerator case full of salads and snacks? What kind of weird sex toy store do you normally shop in?”

“All I can say is that I’m sorry. No disrespect intended.” The man hunched around his briefcase, using it as a shield. Clearly he still regarded Sam as volatile as a grenade with its pin pulled.

“At least your visit helped me make up my mind about the window display.” Mira reached over and snatched the robe off the chair. “I’m going to be much more careful from now on about the message I’m sending out to passersby.”

“Let me make it up to you. Do you have some cards? I work at a web design firm of about fifty people. I’d be happy to spread the word about what you really do sell.”

Delighted by his offer, she scooped a handful off the counter. “If you ever have more time, you should come back and shop for real.”

With a nod, and a final wary glance at Sam, the man edged sideways out the door. Sam immediately threw the lock and flipped over the Closed sign. “Are you okay?” He folded her into his arms, stroking her hair.

Mira dropped her cheek against his chest. Then she let her adrenaline drop back to normal. Shock and shaky knees took its place. Being held by Sam helped. A lot. It also gratified her to hear his heart pounding as though he’d just sprinted all the way from Lake Michigan, instead of just next door. Guess she wasn’t the only one who’d been freaked out by the situation. “I’m fine.” Then she took a deep breath and flattened her palms against his back. “I’m fine, now,” she amended.

Sam pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Why didn’t you scream for help? I would’ve been over here sooner. Before he ever laid a hand on you.”

“Because I had everything under control.”

Hands on her shoulders, he thrust her out to glare at her with eyes the color of midnight. “Like hell you did. You need a panic button. And mace. Pepper spray, or maybe a Taser.”

“A Taser? Do you even hear yourself? What kind of word of mouth do you think we’d build up if I went around Tasing everyone who gave me the hairy eyeball?” But right before she completely lost her temper, Mira caught herself. Sam must be coming down from his adrenaline high, too. And he must’ve been pretty scared to abandon his shop and leap into protector mode. “I don’t need any of those things, silly. I’ve got you.”

“Damn straight.” His hands tightened, pulling her up to her tiptoes to meet his lips. They came together in a frenzy, with searing-hot, wet, deep kisses. Sam staked his claim, branding her as his own. With her eyes closed, Mira swore she felt the earth spin a little in a slow circle.

A loud knock popped them apart with the approximate velocity of a champagne cork leaving its bottle. “Everything okay over here?” A woman with white hair smoothed into a pixie cut poked her head through the bakery doorway.

“She’s fine, Mom. I scared off the creep before he overstepped too far.”

Mom? After all these weeks of working a few sheets of drywall apart,
this
was when she had to meet Sam’s mother? Mira’s mortification, like an infectious amoeba, immediately split into two distinct layers. Bad enough that Sam thought she couldn’t take care of herself. Now his mother would always know her as the frail, scaredy-cat of a woman who’d needed to be rescued. Especially galling, considering she’d done so well in her self-defense class that she accidentally broke her instructor’s nose. While Mira appreciated Sam’s actions, she’d never doubted being able to handle her hands-ily inappropriate customer all by herself. It stung her feminist pride with the small but shooting pain akin to a paper cut.

Worse yet was Mrs. Lyons catching an eyeful of Mira actively thrusting her tongue into Sam’s mouth. In the vast panoply of possible first impressions, sucking face never went over well. Had Mrs. Lyons been nothing more than a neighbor and fellow professional, Mira still would’ve felt smacked with eighty pounds of embarrassment. But Mrs. Lyons also happened to be her boyfriend’s mother. That fact turned the embarrassment from manageable to crushing, her face from sheet-white shock to ablaze with awkwardness.

“Sam, why don’t you come back over here and finish bagging up these cappuccino biscotti for me? I think the secretary from that law firm is going to come pick them up in about an hour. You can’t expect a room full of lawyers to stay awake all afternoon without a hit of espresso and sugar from our biscotti, can you?”

“Actually, I could.”

Kathleen clomped into the store in bright green clogs. Faded jeans peeked out below a brown Lyons Bakery apron, and on top she wore a bright yellow sweater. “Please don’t say that when you hand over the box to Lydia. Their daily biscotti addiction is a steady bump to our bottom line.”

“The biscotti can wait. I’m taking care of Mira.”

Her lips, outlined in a sassy coral, pressed tight into a thin line. “Mira can no doubt take care of herself. You do her a disservice to think otherwise.”

Took the words right out of her mouth. Sam didn’t need to stay and hold her hand. In fact, Mira was already itching to go and unlock the front door. The thought of prospective customers walking past instead of walking in made her spine twitch. Even though Mira wasn’t anywhere close to ready for the kissing to stop. She and Sam had stuck to their resolve not to interact during work. These unexpected daytime kisses were both a treat and a pick-me-up. The sexual equivalent of a caramel mocha frappuccino. “You sound busy. Why don’t you get back to work? We’ll call the whole incident a false alarm.”

“I won’t let you downplay this, Mira.” Sam jabbed his finger at her, as if she didn’t take his thunderous scowl with enough gravity. “If I have to tell Ivy about it for you to take it seriously, I will. Your safety is everything.”

Clearly he wouldn’t leave until she threw him a bone. “Hays should be walking in the door any minute. Does that put your mind to rest?”

“Then I’ll stay until he gets here.”

Kathleen took the dishtowel from over her shoulder and shooed her son away. “Go on. My hands are tired from piping buttercream rosettes. I could use a break. I’ll stay with her and have a chat.”