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“Yeah. I mean, he knew how to enjoy life.” Unlike some uptight people I could name. She leaned against the desk. “I’ll bet he was your favorite uncle, huh?”
Was the hurt that flashed across his face grief, or something else? He pushed the file away. “Did you need something?”
So much for getting to know each other better. Good thing she wasn’t the type to give up easily. She flashed him her most dazzling smile. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday.” She moved around to sit on the edge of the desk. Her skirt rose up on her thigh, not an indecent amount, but enough that she was sure he noticed. She’d purposely dressed more conservatively today, in a simple skirt and sleeveless knit top. Sometimes what a man couldn’t see was more enticing than what was right out in the open.
His color heightened as he glanced at her, then he jerked his gaze away. “What in particular were you thinking about?”
“What you said about most people being more interested in Kung Pao than the Kama Sutra.”
“Oh?”
With one syllable, he lobbed the conversation back to her. But that one word told her a lot. He was interested all right, but determined not to show it. “I think, in general, people do tend to think about food more than sex, but maybe that’s because we eat three times a day. I mean, food is always there, practically right in front of us.”
“But most people don’t have sex three times a day.”
She smiled. “No, I think it’s safe to say most people don’t have sex nearly that often.”
He nodded, still somber as a judge, though she thought she caught a hint of amusement in his voice. “If they did, it would severely interfere with work.”
“In that case, it would probably be outlawed altogether. We mustn’t let anything get in the way of the economy.”
He laughed, and she counted that a minor victory. “So what are you trying to say?”
She picked up a pencil and smoothed her fingers along its length. “That sex is more special than food. That we shouldn’t take it for granted. And if dressing up or playing with toys or using other things makes sex special for people, then that’s a good thing, don’t you think?”
He sat back, leaning away from her, his pose casual, but the tension in his shoulders letting her know he was aware of her in the way a man is aware of an attractive woman. “What’s wrong with the old-fashioned way? A man and a woman, no props?”
She looked directly at him for the first time since she’d come into the office, her expression serious, chasing the mirth from his eyes. She wet her lips, her voice low, seductive. “With the right man and woman, that can be wonderful.”
He held her gaze, not flinching. “Then they don’t really need places like this.”
“No.” She leaned closer. The spicy scent of Aramis sent a warm tickle through her midsection. “Do you like cake?”
He blinked. “Cake? I guess so. It depends on the cake.”
“Chocolate cake. Devil’s food. With so much chocolate, it’s almost black. Sinful.” She wet her lips. “With chocolate buttercream icing an inch thick.”
He swallowed. “And your point is?”
“Just 4 Play is like the icing on that cake. The cake is good without the icing, but it’s so much better with it.” She dropped her gaze to his lips. All this talk of sweet indulgences made her wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
Apparently she wouldn’t find out today. “That doesn’t mean I have to be the one to sell the cake.” He sat forward again, his voice firm, the spell between them broken. “Or the icing. Or sex toys and lingerie.”
She frowned. “You’d rather sell Chinese food. Something people can get at half a dozen other places in town.”
“But not this Chinese food. I have a five-star chef who’s going to create a special menu. We’re not talking your average dollar-a-scoop buffet.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and swung one leg impatiently against the desk. “It’s still something ordinary. Expected.” Why did it disappoint her so much that he’d settle for something anyone could do?
“Men have built fortunes providing people with ordinary services,” he said.
She leaned forward, pinning him to the chair with her gaze. “But it’s the risk-takers who’ve really made a difference in this world. Besides, you’d have more of a chance of making a fortune sticking with Just 4 Play. But of course, that wouldn’t be respectable.”
He frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad word.”
“Only if you’re willing to settle for the ordinary, instead of the extraordinary.”
“So you’re saying Just 4 Play is extraordinary?”
“It could be. How are you going to know if you don’t stick around and find out?”
“I guess I’ll take that chance.”
She slid off the desk and looked down at him. “I think you’ve forgotten what it means to really take chances,” she said. “If you ever knew.”
She turned and left, but not before glimpsing the hurt that flashed through his eyes at her parting words. Good. She’d made at least one point. And planted the seeds for further victories. She would convince Mitch Landry to see things her way. And maybe she’d show him what he’d been missing living his safe, conventional life.
4
MITCH PACED IN FRONT of his desk, debating whether to go after Jill, to tell her exactly what he thought of her unsolicited opinions and her attempts to change his mind. This was his business and he could do anything he damn well pleased with it. Why should he care what a salesgirl he’d known less than two days thought of him? He had half a mind to—
“Shit!” Pain shot through his leg as he banged against the corner of the daybed that sat against the back wall of the office/apartment. He frowned at the offending piece of furniture. The bed was covered in a fleece throw decorated with rows of bright yellow smiley faces. Another example of Uncle Grif’s appalling tastes.
He sank down onto the bed, head in his hands. No, in this case, he was the one who’d behaved appallingly. He’d dismissed Grif as a crass playboy who’d devoted his life to golf, women and the sex toy business.
Going through this office this morning, Mitch had discovered another man entirely. He found a whole file drawer devoted to the various charities Grif supported—a mentoring program for adolescent boys, a shelter for abused women, a spay and neuter clinic for indigent pet owners. The thickest file in the drawer sent a pain through his chest.
He looked up, at the folder still sitting on the corner of the desk. From here he could read the hand-lettered label on the tab: Mary Landry Mental Health Education Foundation.
Loud, tasteless, fun-loving Uncle Grif had funded a program to educate the public about mental illness and the mentally ill. He had named it after his sister-in-law, Mitch’s mother, who had spent her last years in and out of institutions, struggling for a normalcy she could never quite attain.
Mitch felt ambushed by grief for a man he’d never really known. A man he’d never have the chance to thank.
Had Uncle Grif left him these things to show how wrong Mitch had been in his judgment? Or as a way of saying he understood?
He stood and opened another folder on the desk. This one held tax forms. Despite his happy-go-lucky reputation, Grif had been a sound businessman. Just 4 Play was on solid financial footing and had increased profits every year in the three years since it had opened.
But money didn’t equal respect. In yet another folder, he’d found paperwork showing the Chamber of Commerce had turned down Grif’s application for membership, with a curt letter stating Just 4 Play did not enhance the family-oriented reputation they wanted to project.
He pushed aside the stack of files and stretched. A glance at his watch showed it was after noon. A good time to go out for a bite to eat. As Jill had pointed out, he had to eat three times a day, though sorry to say, he wasn’t having sex three times a day. Not even three times a week. And from the way Lana had acted last night, he’d be lucky if she ever had sex with him again.
Then again, would that be such a loss?
With this disturbing thought, he emerged into the main part of the store. As Jill had said, lunchtime business was brisk, with people lined up two deep at the register and more browsing in various parts of the store. He spotted Jill in a back corner, rearranging items on a pegboard.
She glanced toward him, then quickly looked away. The deliberate snub annoyed him. Just because they disagreed on how he should run his business didn’t mean they couldn’t be civil. As her boss, it was up to him to set an example. He decided to ask her if she wanted him to bring anything back for her lunch.
She was standing on tiptoe to hang something on one of the pegs when he reached her corner. “Hello, Jill.”
“Hello, Mitch.” She reached into another carton, not looking at him.
“What do you have there?” He nodded to what looked like a ball of fake fur in her hand.
“Fur-lined handcuffs.” She held up what he could see now was two circlets of black fur joined by a silver chain.
“Okay. But why fur?”
“It’s more comfortable. See?”
Before he could react, she snapped one cuff around a pole on the display and another around his right wrist.
“Hey!” He struggled against the restraint. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Just showing you how comfortable they are.” Her innocent smile failed to mask the evil gleam in her eye.
He refused to give her the satisfaction of thinking she’d bested him. He studied his cuffed wrist. The fur against his skin was cool and silky. “People actually think this is sexy?”
“It’s not the cuffs themselves that are so sexy. It’s the element of danger.” She moved closer, her voice softer, confiding. “Of risk. Of having to trust your partner completely.”
She was so close now he could see each individual eyelash, and the smattering of freckles beneath the powder on her nose. He held his breath, half-afraid she’d hear the hammering of his heart and know how she’d affected him.
“Here. You look uncomfortable.” She grasped the knot of his tie and tugged it loose, then began to loosen the buttons of his shirt. She moved slowly, focused on the task, her fingers lightly grazing his skin as she parted the starched cotton.
He grabbed her wrist with his free hand. “What are you doing?” His gaze met hers, the blue depths of her eyes pulling him in even as his mind warned him to keep his distance. “Get me out of here before someone comes along and sees us.” His voice was tight and husky, the voice of a stranger.
“Oh, no one’s paying any attention to us.” Her lips curved in a slow smile. “I thought you wanted to understand the appeal.”
She stepped back, just out of his reach, and picked up a small whip, with a fringed leather tassel at the tip. “The cuffs are like this cat-o’-nine-tails. It’s not really designed to harm.” She flicked it across his chest, the tassel barely brushing against him. “You can use it to tickle. Or perhaps more firmly.” She wielded the whip with more force this time, though still barely grazing him. “The idea is to heighten sensation.”
All thought of his surroundings faded as he watched her. His skin felt feverish, his nerves raw, tingling with awareness of her—of the smooth skin of her arms brushing him as she reached for something on a shelf, of the curve of her breast outlined by the clinging knit of her sleeveless top, of the bottomless blue of her eyes as she watched him.
He reminded himself she was doing this on purpose. She was deliberately trying to make him feel vulnerable. Trying to prove some point. He wouldn’t be swayed so easily. He forced a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. “Do you always break in new bosses this way?”
“I thought you wanted to understand.” She trailed the whip across his throat, tickling, teasing, stealing breath and coherent thought. “To see what it is that attracts people to these things.”
“Are you into this kind of thing? Bondage?” Heat pooled in his groin and desire lent an edginess to his voice.
She stroked the handle of the whip down her throat, a half smile on her full lips. He bit back a groan, determined to maintain control. “Maybe.” She leaned closer, engulfing him in the scent of jasmine. “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? The experience?”
He reminded himself that they were not alone. At any moment now, someone might come down the aisle and wonder what was going on. It was important to keep his cool. Retain his dignity. And to not let Jill know she was getting to him. “I think you’ve made your point,” he said, his voice perfectly even, emotionless.
“No. I’ve only just begun.” She smiled, a secret, seductive look.
“I can see this is getting out of hand.” He struggled once more to free his wrist from the cuff. But underneath the fur was solid steel. He was held fast.
“It’s about so much more than sight. That’s why sometimes people use blindfolds. To heighten the other senses.” She took a black satin blindfold from the shelf and brushed it down his cheek. He glared at her, warning her she was taking this too far.
Still smiling, she laid aside the blindfold and reached for a small red bottle. “The sense of smell is important.” She opened a bottle and held it under his nose. A spicy fragrance replaced the aroma of jasmine.
“Or taste.” She touched her finger to his lips and he tasted cinnamon.
“And hearing.” She swished the whip past his ear. He flinched, even as heat coursed through him.
“Touch.” She trailed the whip down the center of his chest, the fringes dragging across his chest hair, tugging gently.
He fought to control his breathing, even as his body strained toward her. He couldn’t remember wanting a woman more—needing her with an urgency that defied logic. If he wasn’t held fast by the cuffs, he might have pulled her down right there in the aisle. He tried to read the expression in her eyes. Is that what she wanted, too, or was she only teasing him? Getting back at him for wanting to close the store?
“What about you?” he demanded. “What do you want?”
She blinked, and stepped back. “Wh…what do you mean?”
“Is sex the main goal for you? The sensual experience? Or do you want something more?”
She turned away, and replaced the whip on its hook. “I don’t see why that should matter to you.”
Her defensive tone told him more than the words themselves. “It does matter, doesn’t it?” he said softly. “There has to be a connection with that other person. If you don’t have that, everything else is just…make-believe.”
“Whoever said there was anything wrong with make-believe?” With one quick movement, she released him. She snatched up the cuffs and replaced them on the pegboard. “Not every encounter is life changing,” she said.
He rubbed his wrists and watched her as she busied herself moving things about on the display. Her head was bent, the hair parted on either side of her neck to reveal a triangle of white flesh. He fought the urge to kiss her there. “I think we’re all looking for the life-changing encounters,” he said. “Even those of us who don’t want to admit it.”
With difficulty, he turned and walked away, shaken by what had just happened, but determined not to show it. What did it mean that a woman he scarcely knew could touch him so? Was it the novelty of the experience, the charged atmosphere of this place? Or something more? Something that threatened to unman him, to destroy the control he’d worked so long to perfect?
“I SAW WHAT YOU DID.” Sid’s disapproving tone stopped Jill as she walked past the front counter after the noon rush had subsided.
“What are you talking about?” She pretended ignorance.
“I saw you and Mitch back there.” He nodded at the security mirror angled toward the corner.
She flushed. She’d forgotten about that mirror. “He wanted to know what the handcuffs were for, so I showed him.” She trailed her hand along the edge of the counter, avoiding Sid’s eyes.
“You did a lot more than that.”
And might have done more if they’d been alone. “So?”
“So, haven’t you ever heard of sexual harassment? He could sue you!”
She laughed. “And tell a whole courtroom that I tied him up and teased him with a whip? I don’t think so.” She smiled, remembering the raw desire in his eyes. “Besides, I think he liked it.”
“Liked it or not, you could end up in big trouble playing games like that.”
“Oh, Sid, you worry too much. It was all in fun.”
“It looked deadly serious from here. In fact, I’d say you’re lucky looks can’t kill, or you’d be laid out in the back room right now.”
“I’m still standing, aren’t I?” She leaned back against the counter, edgy with frustrated desire. The problem with a slow seduction was that Mitch wasn’t the only one left aroused and unsatisfied. “Besides, what have I got to lose? If I can convince Mitch to keep this place open, you and I get to keep our jobs. If I don’t, well then I’m out the door anyway, so I might as well try.”
“But seducing the boss—it’s a crazy idea!”
