One-Click Buy: June 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Tori Carrington

  “I know you’re itching to get busy on your new laptop.”

  Not. At. All.

  “Got a favor to ask. A young couple came in today to rent a suit. He’s in the army and is about to deploy and they decided to get married first. They don’t have any money. She’s just going to wear her church dress and carry flowers.”

  Lia knew what was coming. “Oh, J.C., I’ve heard so many hard-luck stories—”

  “This is different. They didn’t ask. I’m asking. I’m asking you to let her borrow one of the sample dresses. I know you’ve got some that have been discontinued.”

  “Which we sell once a year.” J.C. had been listening a lot.

  He gazed at her. “It’s an outdoor wedding on Sunday afternoon. Just a simple dress.”

  Typical man. There was no such thing as a simple wedding dress.

  He softened his voice. “Please.”

  It rumbled against her heartstrings. No fair. One word in that voice and who could deny him anything? Not Lia.

  “Okay,” she heard herself saying. Lending the samples was against the rules. So against the rules. Something about J.C. made her forget about rules. “And we don’t need to bother Elizabeth with this, either.”

  “Understood. Well, thanks, Lia.” His goodbye smile bordered on impersonal. It didn’t even have a dimple. How did he do that?

  “I’ll try to keep the sound down next door.” And he left. No kiss. No hug. No see ya later.

  And then came the embarrassing realization that he’d left that way on purpose. Last night’s kiss hadn’t done it for him the way it had for her.

  Ouch.

  At least he’d let her down easy and very smoothly. She could appreciate that. A clear signal that they were Not Going Down That Road.

  Which was what she wanted. Because it was best. Because, tragically, he wasn’t the right type for her.

  So instead of feeling relieved, why did she want to run after him and fling herself at him?

  Come on, Lia. You know getting involved with him would lead to a messy breakup later. Don’t put yourself through that. The man had no home, no money and no job. The only talent she’d discovered so far had been his kissing talent. Which was considerable. And he probably had plenty of women who were willing to overlook the no money, no home and no job issues.

  Because…because during that kiss, hadn’t she?

  Lia heard the front door close and J.C. lock it behind him.

  That was a close call.

  JORDAN COULDN’T QUITE figure out his fascination with Lia until he overheard one of her conversations with Elizabeth the next day. Lia was pulling dresses, as they called it, when Elizabeth asked her why she was showing the less expensive models when the bride’s budget was considerably more.

  “The mom’s body language tells me she can’t afford it,” Lia answered. “Styles that skip beading around the hem will cut the cost and still give the bride the look she wants.”

  “Hmm,” Elizabeth had said.

  “The mom will be thrilled and the bride will still be happy. Positive word of mouth means more brides in the shop,” Lia countered. “Besides, it gives me warm fuzzies.”

  “Well, it’s your commission,” was Elizabeth’s comment.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t spend all my warm fuzzies in one place.”

  Jordan hoped she’d spend some of them with him. He knew Lia’s secret now. Beneath her determined career-girl facade lurked a sentimental woman with a heart like a marshmallow. Right then and there, he’d wanted to go next door and scoop her up in his arms, but she’d just demand that he put her down. Better to stick with his master plan.

  Tonight, the plan was to bring her pizza.

  As soon as Elizabeth left for the day, Jordan carried a large pepperoni with extra cheese into the salon’s office. He also brought his guitar.

  Lia was pleased with the pizza, less pleased with the guitar. She eyed it questioningly.

  “I’ve got something to prove. You hurt my pride, woman,” he said, but he waited until her mouth was full of pepperoni pizza to say it. That way, she couldn’t object when he started to sing.

  Pride was a funny thing. Jordan enjoyed not being recognized, but he wanted Lia to like his music and he wanted her to like it without being swayed by his name.

  Oh, yeah, and he also wanted her to like him without the glitter of fame shining in her eyes. He might be making more progress on that front. Last night, she’d expected him to kiss her, so he hadn’t even though he’d wanted to. Really wanted to.

  He strummed a chord, sorely tempted to sing one of his best-known songs, “The Angel in My Heart.” But that would be cheating, so he sang a phrase of one of his new songs.

  “Too many cloudy days…without the sunshine of your gaze…and it’s raining in my heart.” He slanted a glance at her.

  She was staring at her pizza. “Is that one of yours?”

  “Yes.” He waited.

  “It’s not terrible.”

  Just what he wanted to hear. “But it doesn’t make you feel like storming the stage and throwing your underwear at me like my thousands of female fans.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “It’s kind of gloomy.”

  “I was in Seattle when I wrote it.”

  “That explains the cloudy days and the heart full of rain. Is the heart full of pain later on?”

  “Actually, yes.” Irritated, he set the guitar aside and vowed to rewrite the lyrics. He’d been predictable and she’d caught him.

  “I’m sorry,” Lia said. “I didn’t mean to criticize. I admire you for following your dream.”

  Said very politely. It was a good thing he was already a success, or he’d give up after encouragement like that. “So, what’s your dream?” he asked.

  Lia gestured around them. “I want to become part owner or buy Elizabeth out entirely. I was born in Rocky Falls and I’ve always wanted to stay here.”

  “You have roots.” Jordan had a place in Nashville, but he didn’t consider it his home. He didn’t really have a home; he had a tour bus.

  “I do.” Lia brushed her hands over a napkin and crumpled it. “People want to retire here. I’m already here. The town depends on tourists and weekenders, so there are a lot of owner-run businesses and part-time minimum-wage salesclerks. Great for an after-school job, but not for supporting yourself.” She looked directly at him. “That’s why I’m making the most of this opportunity.”

  “Fair enough.” Jordan smiled, letting his gaze sweep over her and landing on her mouth. He remembered the way her lips had felt on his and the way she’d made a point of kissing him. He wanted to make sure it happened again. “Life sometimes offers more than one opportunity at a time.”

  The slightest of blushes tinged her face. “Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference between opportunities and distractions.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s what makes it fun.” He stood and watched her eyes widen. One step toward her, and her lips parted.

  He clenched his fists. Three more steps and he could bend down and kiss her. Or haul her to her feet and kiss her. But not yet. He had to be patient. So he loosened his fingers, took another step and reached for the empty pizza box. “I’ll carry this out to the trash with me.”

  “What?” She blinked. “Oh. Yeah, thanks.”

  Jordan inhaled and forced himself to pick up his guitar. Patience was killing him.

  “J.C.?”

  Darned if his heart didn’t kick up a notch. “Mmm?”

  “Thanks for the pizza.”

  That wasn’t exactly the “kiss me, you fool” he’d hoped for. But he hadn’t expected it, either. “You’re welcome.”

  They stared at each other in one of those moments of mutual awareness before Jordan forced himself to walk out the door. Lia might have a marshmallow heart, but he had a marshmallow head.

  Keeping to his plan made him irritable and impatient, two qualities that weren’t helpful while working as a formal-wear-ren
tal sales associate. Actually, they weren’t generally helpful at all, which Jimmy had timidly pointed out to him the next day.

  So Jordan had holed up at his cousin’s apartment until it was time to bring Chinese food to Lia. Chinese, because he had a little theme going and he was planning to sing her the song inspired by his time in Rocky Falls.

  She’d probably hate it.

  He knocked on the door of the office. “Hungry?”

  Lia’s unguarded face lit up when she saw him and a warm rush of desire flooded his senses. J.C.’s hands shook a little with the effort of not touching her.

  Yes, he wanted her. But she had to want him, too.

  J.C. HAD THE STRANGEST LOOK on his face. Lia couldn’t interpret it. “Are you okay?”

  He stalked over to the desk and plopped down the bag from Uncle Lee’s Chinese Restaurant. “No.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He exhaled. “I was going to sing you the song I wrote while I was here, but I am in no mood for you not to like it.”

  “Okay.”

  “So I’m not going to sing it.”

  She searched for the right thing to say. “But I might like it.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He opened the bag. “I got Chinese food because the song has a little Asian flavor to it. After listening to you talk to…”

  “Zhin.”

  “Zhin, it seemed to fit. Anyway, it’s called ‘Butterfly’ because the women come in here and cocoon themselves in white dresses and when they take them off, they’re changed. They’re starting a new life.” While he talked, he set containers on the desktop.

  Lia ignored them. “That sounds beautiful. I’d like to hear it.” She meant it. J.C. might have actually written a good song.

  “Maybe.” He handed her a pair of chopsticks. “This wedding-outfit business is more high-pressure than I would ever have believed. I think the dress is so important because it is a cocoon. A woman puts it on as one person, and when she emerges, she’s somebody’s wife. People treat her differently. She’ll even have a different name.”

  Oh, now, that was just great. A sexy man with depth. How was she supposed to resist a sexy man with depth? Not that she’d had to resist anything.

  She sighed and ate her dinner. And afterward, they read their fortunes, cleared up the cartons and little unused packets of mustard and soy sauce and J.C. stood to leave.

  This time, Lia stood, too.

  “Take care.” He took several steps before she worked up the nerve to speak.

  “Why won’t you kiss me good-night?” There. She’d asked.

  His back to her, J.C. gripped the doorjamb. “Because I won’t want to stop.” He glanced back at her. “I like you, Lia. More than I expected.”

  And he walked through the door.

  “I like you, too, J.C.,” she said into the empty room. “More than I expected.”

  LIA DIDN’T RELAX until the next day when she decided that maybe she wouldn’t want a good-night kiss to end, either.

  As soon as she had the thought, she felt lighter. She could hardly wait for J.C. to arrive with dinner.

  Naturally, this would be the night when he didn’t bring her dinner.

  An hour passed. She couldn’t hear him moving around next door.

  Had he moved on?

  Without saying goodbye?

  Quietly, Lia approached the wall in the back dressing room and listened. Silence. She pressed her ear against the mirror. Not even a plink from his guitar.

  How…how dare he?

  Except for the glow of a security light, it was dark inside Tuxedo Park as Lia unlocked the door. So, J.C. had left, but she still wanted to see for herself. Flipping on the reception-area lights, she strode toward the dressing room and immediately noticed that the glow flickered.

  Flickered. Security lights didn’t flicker. That was fire. J.C. had probably fallen asleep and set something on fire.

  Lia ran the rest of the way, grabbing the doorjamb to stop and gape inside.

  J.C. reclined on a bank of pillows, a glass of wine in one hand. “Took you long enough. I figured you’d be starving by now.”

  He’d transformed the men’s fitting room into a…blatant scene of seduction.

  He’d used yards of tulle to soften the walls, adding pillows wrapped in colorful satins and brocades—vest and cummerbund material, if she wasn’t mistaken. The flickering came from bowls of water that held floating candles and gardenias. A bottle of white wine was chilling and a plate of sushi set in ice was on the floor next to him.

  J.C. himself wore a tux, unbuttoned shirt and no tie. His feet were bare.

  Okay. There was no mistaking this message.

  As she stood there gawking, he reached for the bottle and poured her a glass of wine. “You look ready to relax. If you’d like to change, there are some clothes in the fitting room next to this one.”

  At her raised eyebrows, he added, “Samples.”

  Lia took the wine and went next door without saying anything. She had no intention of “changing into something more comfortable,” as the saying went, but she was curious to see what he’d selected.

  After a large swallow of wine, Lia flipped on the light.

  Choice number one made her smile—it was a man’s tux in her size. Choice number two was a navy satin bridesmaid’s gown. Very elegant.

  But number three…he couldn’t expect her to wear it. The ivory peignoir was from their new trousseau collection. Gorgeous and sheer, it had the whole bed vibe going for it. It was the kind of outfit silver-screen movie divas wore.

  Lia sipped her wine. She’d had no intention of changing, but these were yes, no and I-haven’t-made-up-my-mind choices. Clever. Much more up-front than she was used to, but it avoided unwanted groping and awkward excuses.

  Not that J.C. would grope.

  Or that it would be unwanted.

  Lia closed her eyes as the frothy peignoir beckoned. A woman knew she was a woman when she wore that. More important, a man knew it, too.

  Why shouldn’t she just put it on and go enjoy herself tonight? How often did she get an opportunity like this?

  Never.

  Never had a man gone to this much trouble to get her into bed—or pillowed floor, as the case may be.

  Would she get hurt? Not if she expected nothing long-term. Or any term. Not if she looked on this as just a wildly romantic night with a skillful lover.

  Lover. Not boyfriend. Not partner. Not even a possible boyfriend. A lover. How incredibly sophisticated that sounded.

  She reached for the peignoir, but let her hand fall to her side. No. That wasn’t her. And she wasn’t going to pretend that it was.

  Remaining in her work suit, she started to return to J.C., but stopped. There was a fourth option. A fourth choice. Why not?

  Quickly, Lia began to strip.

  7

  IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME since Jordan had been uncertain about a woman. Wait a minute. He’d never been uncertain about a woman.

  He took a long swallow of ice water, determined not to over-indulge with the wine. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but he did like a good wine.

  He wanted to make love to Lia Wainright, plain—but not so simple. The timing was lousy. He had to move on. He had commitments that wouldn’t allow him to stay in Rocky Falls for much longer. It didn’t mean he’d never be back, but he wouldn’t be back for months.

  Lia was smart. Jimmy had told her he traveled, so she’d know what tonight was about—and what it wasn’t.

  Jordan ate a piece of sushi and rearranged the pieces to cover up the hole. Why was she taking so long in there?

  A door opened. “I don’t understand why men complain about wearing a tux,” he heard. “They’re way more comfortable than what the bride wears.”

  Lia appeared in the doorway.

  He’d hoped for the see-through negligee, but expected the navy gown. The tux was meant as a joke. And a “Man, did you misread the signals” outfit, in case he had misread the
signals, which he didn’t actually believe, but clearly must…have…

  Jordan was unexpectedly turned on by the sight of Lia in the tux. She had changed into the pants, shirt and jacket, bare feet. She’d left open the collar and top buttons with no tie and—he could see—no bra.

  Dry mouthed, he watched as she gracefully sank into a cross-legged sitting position, handing him her empty glass as she perused the sushi platter. “Good wine. Is this by chance the new white wine from the Wainright?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You heard me on the phone that night.” She glanced up at him.

  “Yes.” He poured her another glass and allowed his gaze to travel from the top of her head down her tuxedo-clad body to the tips of her toes.

  His hand shook as he was seized by a sudden desire to suck her toes. They were painted red. Apparently red toenails were also a previously unknown turn-on for him.

  Waiting until his hand was steady, he handed her the wine just as Lia popped a piece of pickled ginger into her mouth.

  “I love pickled ginger. Sometimes I wonder if I really like sushi, or just the pickled ginger.” She sipped her wine and made a face. “Remind me not to do that again. It’s not fair to either the wine or the ginger.”

  Jordan forced himself to smile when all he wanted to do was lean across the platter and kiss her ginger-puckered lips. She was here. Dressed in a tux, but she was here. She’d come to him, just the way he’d planned. And now he didn’t know exactly how to proceed. That, he had not planned. He watched as she ate another piece of ginger and really wished she’d give him a little direction. He didn’t want to be a jerk, but he didn’t want to lose out through inaction, either.

  As Lia broke apart a pair of chopsticks, she nodded to the guitar on the bench behind him. “Planning to sing me ‘Butterfly’ tonight?”

  “I don’t know. Depends on how the evening goes.”

  “How do you want it to go?”

  “Your call.” Jordan knew how he wanted the evening to go, but sensed she wasn’t totally on board. Disappointment stung him and it was a pretty good sting, too. One that would be sore for a while.

  She eyed him as she ate another piece of pickled ginger.