"Oh, yes, she's definitely worth it."
The pitch and depth of his voice made her toes curl. "Shall I wrap it up?"
"Not so fast. I haven't decided yet. Sell me on it." He dropped the teddy on the countertop. Elizabeth's temper rose a degree. Either he wanted the damn thing or he didn't. But knowing she couldn't afford to sacrifice a sixty-dollar sale, particularly on a slow day, she picked up the teddy and began to enumerate its various merits.
"It's made of one-hundred percent silk."
He took a pinch of the fabric between his fingers and rubbed it, exactly as he had done the strand of her hair the night before. "Very nice. It's sheer, almost transparent. Is that a problem?"
"Pardon?"
"Does anything show through?"
"Isn't it supposed to?"
"In the bedroom, yes. But not if she's wearing it under her clothes."
"Oh. Well, no, that shouldn't be a problem."
"Okay," he said, "what about the color? What do you call that?"
"Nude."
"That figures. What about size?"
"What size is she?" Forty-four double D, she thought peevishly.
"About your size. Hold it up to you." She hesitated, but not wanting to appear prudish, she slipped the teddy off the hanger. Laying the straps on her shoulders, she held it in place against her. "It's stretchy. It should fit if she's a thirty-two or thirty-four."
"Thirty-two or thirty-four what?"
"Bra size."
"Ahh." Thad squinted his eyes and let them linger on the bra cups of the teddy that were conforming to her shape. "That should be okay. Do these come undone?"
He raised his hand to the row of pearl buttons down the front. With a flick of his fingers, the first two popped open. Their eyes sprang together just as quickly.
Elizabeth dropped the garment onto the counter-top. "Have you decided?"
"What does this do?"
Entranced, she watched as his finger slowly and deliberately followed the high cut leg of the teddy to the tapering point that brought front and back together. A moan pressed against the inside of her lips. "It unsnaps," she answered in an unnaturally husky voice.
"What for?"
Distressed beyond the breaking point, she cried, "What do you think?"
"Hmm, that's handy. And these are for stockings?" He ran his index finger down one lacy suspender.
"Yes. But they're removable."
"Throw in a pair of lacy stockings and I'll take it."
"Cash or credit card?"
"Credit card."
"Fine."
He had her so badly rattled that she could barely write up the ticket. She moved the shuttle so hard that her machine nearly ate his credit card. T. D. Randolph. She wondered if his name was Thaddeus and what theD stood for, then cursed herself for wondering. She didn't give a damn what his full name was.
"Gift wrap?" she asked ungraciously as she rolled up the sinful teddy and stockings in pink tissue paper.
"That won't be necessary."
I'll bet. He was probably going straight to his lover's arms. Unwrapping the gift would take to much time and delay things.
"Thank you," he said, accepting the Fantasy shopping bag from her outstretched hand.
"You're welcome."
"See you at home."
Not if I can help it. She nodded coolly and averted her head before he was even out the door. But she surreptitiously looked through the paned glass and watched him leave the hotel with a carefree gait which she found disgustingly cocky.
At least he wasn't conducting his shabby, reconciliatory affair in a room of the Hotel Cavanaugh. One of those motels out on the interstate would be more his style.
She turned her back on the lobby and slapped his credit card receipt into her cash drawer. When the tiny gold bell over her door jingled again, she thought he had come back for something. Wearing a frown as discouraging as a "Do Not Disturb" sign, she turned to confront him.
"Oh, hello!" she exclaimed with chagrin.
Chapter 6
Adam Cavanaugh asked, "Am I intruding?"
"No, of course not, Mr Cavanaugh. I was just, uh…" This man, on whom she wanted to make a good impression, caught her for the second time in the midst of her foolish daydreams. "I was looking through some catalogues."
"You seemed lost in thought."
"Yes, I was. Please come in and sit down." This time he had come alone.
"I can only stay a minute." Unabashedly he helped himself to the box of sample chocolates, licking his fingers with complete unselfconsciousness. "I'm between appointments. I would have dropped by sooner, but my calendar has been full."
"I'm sure you've been awfully busy."
"I was wondering if we could have dinner together Saturday night."
"Dinner?" she repeated stupidly. Dinner with Adam Cavanaugh, international playboy and one of the world's most eligible bachelors? Her?
"Are you free that night? If not, we can make it — "
"No, I'm free," she said hastily. "Dinner on Saturday will be fine."
"Great. I find business discussions much more enjoyable if they're conducted with a beautiful woman over dinner." He flashed her a Hollywood-worthy smile. "I'll get your address from the file and pick you up at seven-thirty."
"Or I could meet you somewhere," she suggested, not wanting him to go out of his way.
"I'd rather pick you up. Seven-thirty on Saturday?"
"Yes, fine."
"See you then, Elizabeth."
For a full five minutes after he left, she couldn't believe he'd actually been there and made a dinner date. She pinched herself several times to make sure she wasn't in her dream world. He was so handsome, so charming, so well dressed and immaculately groomed, so everything that any woman could possibly want. And he had invited the Widow Burke to dinner!
What would she wear?
Her sluggish Monday was compensated for by a hectic Tuesday when a regional association of veterinarians held a two-day seminar in the hotel. Their business kept her well occupied Wednesday morning as well. By the time the animal doctors checked out at noon, Fantasy needed a facelift.
She straightened the shelves and reorganized the merchandise, which had been displaced by browsers. The mindless chore required little concentration. It was raining outside. Even indoors, the atmosphere was gloomy. She lit scented candles in the shop to make it appear warmer and more cheerful to potential customers.
It was a perfect day for snuggling in front of a fireplace with a good book. Or for napping. Elizabeth grew sleepy. Her mind began to drift…
The curving stone staircase was dim. The stairs were uneven. The footsteps of ancestors had eroded them. I picked my way carefully, hoping not to spill anything I was carrying on the tray.
At the landing, meager gray light was coming through one narrow window. Silver streams of rain trickled down the cloudy glass. Propping the heavy tray on my hip, I tapped on the oaken door at the end of the hall. He called for me to come in. As I pushed open the heavy door, my heart began to pound. It had done so each time I entered the spare bedroom where our "guest" was confined to bed.
He'd been residing under our roof for almost two weeks. I vividly recalled the afternoon I had heard his biplane circling overhead and had run from the kitchen into the yard. The airplane had been trailing a plume of black smoke. He had managed to land it and climb out safely before it crashed and burst into flames.
My father, who had been working in the fields, also saw the crash. Together we ran toward the fiery wreckage. The pilot had crawled free, but was obviously injured. Between us, we carried him inside and up the stairs to this room.