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Her perusal of his person had him looking ready to spit, so she decided to explain. “The specialty stores in the complex have decided to group together and have a contest—we’re calling it ‘Love and Laughter.’ Each of us is responsible for finding ten men who fit the description of what single women are looking for—mainly attractiveness, a sense of humor and a romantic nature. Photos of the contestants will be on display in our shops, and any woman coming in can vote for her favorite, one vote per visit. Of course, we hope that’ll mean more traffic to the stores.”
Apparently she’d shocked him again, so she went on before he could collect himself and start objecting. “There’s lots of incentive for guys to enter. Each shop is contributing. The grand prize—the contest winner takes a lady of his choosing on a paid vacation—will be supplied through the travel agent. Photography’s being supplied by the photographer two doors down. There are other prizes, like free coffee and a Danish every day for a month, and a variety of discount coupons. A two-hundred-dollar gift certificate from me. All in all, it’s a pretty impressive package.”
Brent didn’t say anything, simply stared at her with narrowed eyes. Shadow had a hunch she’d somehow offended him, or at the very least, irritated him. She asked curiously, “How tall are you?”
That brought him to his feet. “I think I’ll be going now. It was, uh…uncommon meeting you.”
Shadow scrambled after him, wondering exactly which part of what she’d said had been too much, when he abruptly halted. He gazed around her small shop in something akin to wonder, his eyes alighting here and there on particular items. “What the hell kind of business is this?”
Immediately affronted, Shadow propped her hands on her hips. “It’s a novelty shop.”
Brent took two long strides toward the door, stuck his head out and looked up at the sign overhead. “Sex Appeal? What kind of a name is that?”
“I’ll have you know a friend of mine in advertising came up with that name, along with a nice advertising campaign. She also contributes some of the slogans I use on shirts and things.” His eyes were so dark now they looked black rather than green. Shadow tilted her head. “Would you like a brochure?”
He turned to face her. “Why don’t you just explain to me what type of business you’re running here.”
She frowned, feeling stubborn for just a moment, then shrugged. It really wasn’t worth getting annoyed over. She ran a hand through her hair, glanced around and wondered where to start. “I sort of specialize in sexy items,” she said finally. “Not your usual silk and satin negligees. I’m not that serious and I don’t think love should be, either. What I sell is fun. And comfortable. Sexy can be fun, and vice versa, if the right woman wears it. I think men have known that for a long time.”
She saw that she held his interest, and expounded on her theories. “I took a poll once, and do you know most men thought women looked very sexy when they were rumpled? Can you imagine? I mean, women run around all the time trying to be perfect. Perfectly manicured, perfectly attired, smelling perfect with their hair styled perfectly. It’s all nonsense.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“One man,” she said, “who’d been married to his wife for ten years, told me it really turned him on to see her in her apron, cooking. Another told me his wife was sexiest when she first woke in the morning, all warm and drowsy. There was a young college guy who said the sexiest thing he’d ever seen on any woman was a pair of well-worn cutoffs. But a sense of humor was top of their lists.”
“So what do you sell?” Brent asked, his curiosity snagged. “Aprons and cutoffs?”
Shadow scoffed at him. “Of course not. I sell shirts, like this one, that are just plain humorous. And under-things made of the softest cotton, which I can tell you is a lot more comfortable than silk.” She didn’t miss the way his eyes widened, possibly over her disclosure of the type of underwear she preferred. She crossed the room to lift a nightgown from the rack. “Take this gown, for example. It’s soft and warm and comfortable.” She slipped her hand inside. “But also pretty much transparent. See my fingers?”
He watched as she pressed her palm against the bodice of the gown. “Hmm.”
“And all these tiny buttons down the front are a challenge. Can you just imagine standing there, waiting, watching while a woman—”
“You?”
“Any woman you want,” she clarified, “undid all those little buttons?”
“She could just pull it off over her head.”
Exasperated, Shadow said, “That wouldn’t be any fun. You have to use your imagination a little.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
She stared at him, the gown hanging from her hand. “All right. I can see you aren’t the type to appreciate humor at just any old time.” She returned the gown to the rack. “Would you still like to fill out an application for the contest? I need three more men to meet my quota.”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
At least he wasn’t turning her down outright. She took a little comfort in that. “Don’t wait too long,” she cautioned him. “We have to have all the entrants photographed before the end of November. The contest will run the first two weeks of December.”
“Photographed? As in posed in some lewd and revealing way?”
“Of course not.” She almost laughed at his appalled expression. What did he have to hide? she wondered. Hoping to reassure him, she said, “You don’t have to expose yourself, but we are encouraging the rugged look. You know, jeans and boots. You can show your chest if you want, but that’s all. The friends I talked into entering wore flannel shirts or sweaters. This is a classy operation. No sleazy shots allowed.”
Brent pursed his mouth, his darkened gaze going over her once again. It disconcerted Shadow.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Thinking.”
“Oh? About what?”
“Actually,” he said, his smile very nice, “I was thinking we should have dinner and discuss all this in more detail.” He looked at her ringless hand pointedly. “You’re not spoken for, are you?”
“Only by about a half dozen guys. Nothing serious.” Despite herself, Shadow was interested. He was a little aloof, a little uptight, but he was still a hunk and quick with the banter. “What about you?”
“Is that part of the criteria?” he asked. “That I have to be single to enter the contest?”
“No. That’s part of the criteria if you want me to have dinner with you.”
“Then I suppose I should admit I’m entirely single, new to town and therefore completely alone and unattached.”
“All that?” She grinned, realizing that he was flirting with her. She liked it. “Truth is, I’m fairly new to this area, too, although I’ve already made several friends, so I can’t claim to be entirely alone.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’m late now for a meeting, but I can come by and pick you up in an hour.”
Shadow tilted her head, studying him. “Why don’t we hold off on dinner. After all, I don’t really know you. Your name could be Hector, and you might have lied about the rest. But I’d be glad to have lunch with you tomorrow. Here? At the coffee shop?”
He hesitated so long, Shadow was afraid her reserve had chased him off, but she had to be cautious. She knew that.
She was ready to call the whole thing off herself, hoping to save face, when he said, “You have beautiful eyes. I’ve never seen that shade of brown before. Warm, like whiskey. Lunch will be fine. Around noon?”
He’d said it all in one long, drawled comment. Had he done that on purpose, mixing outrageous compliments and suggestions to take her off guard? “Noon would be fine. I’ll meet you there.”
“No. I’ll come here and we’ll walk up together.” As he left, he picked up one of her brochures, and Shadow saw him make note of her name and business number printed in the upper corner. He left without another word, this time stepping very carefully onto the icy walk.
After he’d gone, Shadow put her hand over her heart. It drummed madly against her palm. Good grief, a man like that carried a lot of impact, and she’d barely gotten to know him. Still, she’d recognized right off that he liked to control all situations. He had been equally put off by, and intrigued with, her bold manner.
Lunch, she thought, should prove interesting.
* * *
AFTER A LONG NIGHT of pondering possibilities, Brent had decided he was pleased to be leasing business space to Shadow Callahan. Very pleased. “Micky, I need you to hunt up a file.”
“Yes, Mr. Bramwell. Which one?”
Brent lounged back in his office chair, his eyes on the brochure laid open on his desk. “Ms. Shadow Callahan. She’s leasing at the new buildings over in South-watch.”
“I’ll have it in a minute.”
“Thank you.” Brent studied the brochure, advertising everything from board games to perfumed oils, specialty clothing to self-help books promising to put the fun back into your sex life. It was so outrageous as to be laughable. And profitable. Brent could easily see such a novel idea catching on. The woman who had come up with the concept most assuredly intrigued him.
He couldn’t remember ever meeting anyone so animated, or so lovely. Ms. Callahan, even dressed in old jeans and a sweatshirt, exuded blatant sensuality and confidence. Her appeal had nothing to do with clothing or store-bought fragrances. It was attitude, the way she moved and spoke, the way she smiled so easily. She was sexy as hell.
Brent was always very conscious of women and their motives; he had to be. Women gravitated toward him because of his bankbook and his connections, not his looks, certainly not his character. He could have been a troll with the nastiest disposition and still women would try for his attention. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the thrill of the chase. Hell, it had been a long time since there’d been any need for a chase.
But Shadow Callahan, with all her compliments and open appreciation, didn’t know he had money. So why had she been so intent on controlling the situation? He’d recognized that intention immediately, because it was usually his objective, as well. And for a minute or two there he’d actually allowed her the upper hand, merely out of surprise.
Micky brought in the requested folder and Brent got down to business. He’d be seeing her again in just a few short hours, and he wanted to be prepared this time. Shadow—what a name—didn’t yet know that he held her lease, and that was just fine by him. He’d take all the advantages he could get. But before he had any more verbal skirmishes with her, he’d find out all he could about her, and there was no way he’d let her take him by surprise again.
* * *
SHADOW DIDN’T GIVE BRENT a single thought that morning. She was far too busy with holiday shoppers who used her novel stock of items to take care of those hard-to-buy-for people on their lists. She enjoyed it—the rush, the interaction with customers, the excitement over a particular item that someone decided was “just perfect!” She didn’t have time to waste thinking of Brent.
Yesterday evening, though, she’d thought of him plenty. He was interesting. More so than the men she’d met of late, who mostly bored her with their attentions. She wasn’t certain what exactly appealed to her about Brent, but she’d figure it out. When she had the time.
He came in at quarter to twelve, his lean cheeks ruddy from the cold. Shadow sent him a quick smile, then turned back to the young women who were trying to decide between two different board games.
“This one’s a little more expensive and it takes longer to play. But the concessions each player has to give were designed and written up by a well-known psychologist, and—” she bobbed her eyebrows “—guaranteed effective.”
The women giggled, suitably impressed. Shadow went on, motioning to the other game. “This one’s more good-natured fun. You make up your own concessions or rewards as you go along, depending on your partner.” The choice was made and Shadow rang up the sale, wishing the women luck and reminding them to enjoy themselves.
Brent approached her, taking in her outfit with careful consideration. Shadow grinned at him. “Do you like it?”
She’d dressed like a snow bunny. Her thick cotton top fell to the middle of her thighs and she wore leggings tucked into soft leather boots. As she turned for him, holding her arms out to the side, Brent read the words written across her back: Face It—Forty Never Looked This GOOD.
He shook his head. “Very nice. But you’re not forty.”
“How would you know?” She was thirty-one, but she hadn’t told him that. She smiled. “My driver’s license is safely tucked away in my bag. Have you been peeking?”
All he said was, “I know you’re not forty.”
“Do you think I look good for forty?”
“Too good,” he said meaningfully. “I thought women always claimed to be younger, not older.”
“Now why would I do that? If I said I was twenty, people would think I looked terrible for such a young age. But for forty, I ain’t so bad.”
“Lady, I think you look damn fine regardless of your age.”
He said it so sincerely her heart gave a quick thump of excitement. She hid that reaction well. “Let me get my coat, drag my assistant up from the back and then we can go.”
When Shadow returned from the back room, she was followed by a woman whose arms were ladened with printed bedsheets. As Shadow shrugged into her coat, she made introductions. “This is Kallie, my indispensable right hand and a very nice, if somewhat shy, lady. Kallie, this is Brent Bramwell. We’ll be down at the coffee shop if you need me.”
Kallie smiled. “Take your time. I can handle things.”
“Of course you can. I never doubted it for a minute. When you finish stacking those, hang one up so everyone can see the print, okay? Maybe even near the window, where passersby will catch a glimpse of it.”
Brent took her arm and led her out the door. “What do the sheets have printed on them that you want everyone to see?”
Even with their heavy coats and the frigid wind, Shadow could feel the warmth of Brent beside her. She dodged an icy patch and stepped closer still. “The, ah, proper placement of body parts.”
Brent missed a beat, then laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” She crossed her heart. “It’s kind of a visual instruction manual. I expect them to be big sellers.”
“Have you bought any for yourself yet?”
The coffee shop was only two doors down, so they had already reached it before Brent asked his question. Shadow went in, breathing deeply of the wonderful aroma of fresh baked bread, pastries and flavored coffees. “I love it in here,” she said, in lieu of giving him an answer. “There’s nothing quite like the smell of yeast and warm bread to make you feel comforted.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I can think of a few scents I prefer.”
Shadow slipped off her coat, took a seat at a small table, then waited until Brent had removed his own coat and taken the seat across from her. Propping her cheek against her fist on the table, she studied him. “I’ve annoyed you. That’s why you’re being so outrageous.”
Brent cocked one eyebrow upward. “Outrageous? I thought I was making idle conversation.”
Shadow watched him a moment longer, then sighed. “Okay. No, and I suppose that’s true for many men, and probably many women as well.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She laughed at his confusion. “I was answering your questions, since you claim they weren’t outrageous. No, I don’t own a set of the sheets, and I agree many men might name scents other than baking bread as appealing. But that’s also true for women.”
“But not you?”
She wagged her finger at him. “Me, I like baked bread. Very safe, you know. Ah, here’s Eliza.”
Shadow went through more introductions. Eliza, one of her friends, looked Brent over with a calculating eye.
“I’ll have a salad,” Shadow said, interrupting the intent scrutiny, “and a tuna sandwich on rye, with an apple tart for dessert.”
Brent glanced at the menu briefly, then ordered the same.
“Do you want to try today’s special coffee blend?”
Before Brent could answer, Shadow said, “Sure. Bring us a pot.”
As Eliza walked away, Brent frowned. “What exactly is the day’s special blend?”
“I have no idea. But her coffee is always wonderful. And I like to be adventurous.” She stared at her water glass and added, “Don’t you?”
Brent leaned back in his chair. His eyes glittered with intent, giving her just a shade of warning.
“I’ll be busy most of this week getting settled in,” he told her, “but if you’re really so adventurous, why don’t you agree to have dinner with me on Friday?”
It was only Monday. Shadow felt a little crestfallen that he didn’t want to see her again until the end of the week. “I don’t know. I’m not at all sure you’re trustworthy. Gorgeous, but also a quick talker. I get the feeling you can be dangerous, and I’m usually pretty good at reading people. I didn’t used to be….” She shrugged. “But I am now.”
“You sound cautious, not adventurous.”
“There’s a difference between being adventurous and being just plain stupid.” Leaning forward in her chair, she stared at him and said, “I am never stupid.”
