Silk on the Skin: A Loveswept Classic Romance (10 page)

Moaning, Cass covered her face with shaking hands. They couldn’t have been more intimate if they
had
made love!

She’d always known Dallas was a threat. Not
this kind of threat, though, she thought. More and more she found herself separating the man from the executive. And it had seemed so … right to have him in her bed.

She wondered if it was the Florence Nightingale effect. She had let down her guard with him when she’d seen that sunburn. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was just suffering the throes of a “nursing the wounded” crush.

“Forget it,” she said aloud, knowing her attraction to him hadn’t made a sudden quantum leap. It had been there from the beginning, and had been intensifying ever since. Last night had just been the final bloom.

She snapped on the fluorescent lights and tossed her purse on the desk. A thought occurred: could he be having the same trouble as she? He certainly seemed to want to spend time with her. And that kiss …

Cass almost laughed aloud. Maybe he wasn’t quite as ruthless as she’d originally thought. Maybe it was hard for him, too, to stick to business. And maybe that could be deepened with a little help.

She’d been trying so hard to keep her distance that she’d been downright cool with him. Thank goodness all her senses had been working in the right direction, she thought, or she probably would have been a total bitch. Last night, she had considered if they could be friends, and she decided that was a good beginning. Friends first, and then—lovers.

The notion took her by surprise. She cautiously tasted it, letting it settle into her. Lovers. It felt right, and it sounded right. Her instincts told her
that Dallas would take a part of her that she had never been willing to give before. She admitted she was taking a risk. A big one. She could be totally wrong about him. But if she weren’t …

Cass smiled.

Dallas no sooner walked into WinterLand than he wanted to turn around and walk out again. The shop was in chaos.

Merchandise was piled all over the aisles, and the movable glass shelves were stacked against display walls. Jean was struggling to push a five-foot-high aisle display into position.

“Did a cyclone hit?” he asked, going over and helping her slide the heavy furnishing into place.

“No. Hurricane Cass.” Jean heaved a sigh of relief and slumped against the display. “I came in this morning to find her cheerfully tearing the place apart. Remodeling, so she says. What the hell did you do to her yesterday?”

“I didn’t do anything to her,” he exclaimed.

“Maybe that’s her problem,” Jean said in a very dry tone.

Dallas chuckled. “I’ll remember that next time. Where is she?”

“Out getting labels. After five years in business, suddenly all the displays need to be labeled. I’d like to know how we’re supposed to wait on customers with this mess.”

“Very carefully.” He glanced around the store. “Okay, just tell me what to do, and I’ll take care of this.”

“I doubt it. You’re redder than a cooked crab.”
Jean leaned over and said in a loud whisper, “Is that what slowed the action last night?”

Dallas just smiled.

“Spoilsport.” She pointed to the opposite display cases. “Cass wants these to be the other half of a long V, the wide opening at the door, the narrow end at the cash-register counter. She says a visible cash register will make the customers respond psychologically to the thought of purchasing. That’s bull at its most oblique. I’ll start getting these shelves back up and restocking them.” She patted his shoulder. “Have fun.”

He smothered a groan at the contact and the thought of the chore ahead. While he felt almost normal again, he still had moments of extreme discomfort, especially when he moved too fast. The light shirt he wore felt irritating as it brushed against his back.

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the first case and began pushing it into its designated spot. The case was lighter than he’d thought it would be, although it was still heavy enough. This wouldn’t be a breeze, but he might just survive it.

When Cass returned, he had managed to get two cases in place with a minimal amount of pain and a major amount of itching. His back was the worst; he couldn’t reach it. He wished he’d thought to bring some lotion to soothe his drying skin. Hoping he didn’t look like one of the undead, he turned and smiled at her as she came through the storeroom door.

“Good morning, Dallas. I hope you’re feeling
better,” she said, smiling back at him. She turned to the register and began pressing buttons.

Dallas felt something inside him deflate at the less-than-enthusiastic greeting. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it was definitely better than that.

“I’m just great,” he said flatly, shoving a case into place. It slid in with a loud bang.

“Dallas! Your burn!” she exclaimed, rushing around the counter, the noise obviously drawing her full attention. She hurried toward him. “You shouldn’t be doing that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Now, that’s better,” he said, grinning at her.

“What’s better?”

“Never mind.” Satisfaction ran through him at her fussing. It had been quite a while since somebody had fussed over him, and he admitted he was thoroughly enjoying it. “How do the cases look?”

“Fine.” She frowned at him, her eyes searching his body. He enjoyed that too. “How do you feel?”

“A little sore in spots, but pretty good.”

He leaned back against the tall display case and surveyed the jeans and green sleeveless top she was wearing. The knit material was molded to her small, full breasts. He decided she looked terrific. “I like the outfit. By the way, I got your note this morning, and I locked up the house.”

“Thanks.”

Her cheeks seemed faintly rosy to him. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Definitely a blush, he thought in amusement as her color deepened. He shifted his weight, and his
itching back brushed against the edge of the case. The relief was sudden and surprising. He moved sideways against it. Instantly a thousand suppressed fires came to life, and he rubbed harder against his makeshift back scratcher to ease them.

“Turn around,” she said, chuckling, “and I’ll scratch.”

He quickly obeyed her. Feminine nails gently raked their way around his shoulder blades. He practically arched against them. “More left and harder, please.”

She complied, using both hands to give him a really good scratching. “I shouldn’t be doing this. It will only make it worse.”

“It’s ecstasy,” he murmured, leaning his forehead against the case and closing his eyes. To his satisfaction, she continued scratching for long minutes, fanning out and downward to catch new breakouts. He wondered if he’d have any skin left by the time she was done, then decided he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember anything ever feeling as good as Cass gleefully ripping up his back.

Until she began to rub. The soft, barely perceptible brushes of her palms through his cotton shirt slowly smothered the fires of his damaged skin … and ignited others. His blood began to pump heavily through his veins. He tried to ignore it. His heart thumped erratically, and the store suddenly seemed devoid of air. His brain instantly conjured up the image of her nude and leaning over him, her hands stroking lower and lower, tantalizing and teasing, bringing him to an eruption point.…

“Enough?”

Further erotic visions immediately dispelled, he slowly straightened and turned to face her. Lord help him, he thought. The woman was going to kill him. Aloud, he said, “Maybe. Just stay close by in case I need a repeat, okay?”

She laughed and reached up to ruffle his hair. “I’ll be around.”

Dallas stared at her as her fingers gave him a last playful rub. The gesture was so innocent and yet so incredibly intimate that it took the breath from his body.

“Take it easy, Dallas, okay?” she said, smiling at him. “If you collapse on me, I swear I’ll plant a hook in you and use you for bait.”

He cleared his throat and managed a hoarse “I’m no fool. I’ll be careful.”

A customer came in just then, and as he watched her walk away he acknowledged he
had
been a fool. Why had he ever thought he couldn’t get involved with her? Why the hell had he tried to convince himself that he hadn’t wanted to be?

From the beginning he’d been attracted to her and had tried to push her away. It must be the sun, he thought. His brains must have been scrambled even to have considered keeping Cass Lindley at a distance.

Dallas wanted to laugh out loud at the stunning realization that he’d been fighting a needless battle with himself. Instead he allowed himself a huge grin.

Granted, he had a job to do. And he would do it. But that was no reason to think he couldn’t have Cass too. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman, and he’d be crazy to let her go
just because she was the key to solving a company’s problems. He’d learned enough tactical strategy from his father to know that with a little extra work two objectives could be reached just as easily as one. He wanted both.…

No, he silently corrected himself. He needed both. He needed to turn M & L around. And he needed Cass.

Now all he had to do was come up with a plan.

Eight
 

She couldn’t stand it.

Cass swished the damp mop viciously around the tile floor of the storeroom, trying to work off her restlessness. Ever since she’d decided to take a stab at being friends with Dallas her reaction to him had been intensifying. Lord, she thought, all she had to do was look at the man, and she was melting. It was one thing to have a plan, but quite another to actually implement it.

She told herself she just didn’t want to rush things, that was all. She had never taken this kind of emotional risk before. Naturally, she’d be a little cautious.

Muttering a curse, she wondered how she was supposed to be the least bit cautious, when he was more virile than ever. His sunburn had faded to a healthy reddish brown. His eyes seemed almost golden, and his features were carved in oiled mahogany. He seemed leaner and taller, and she
knew he could match any lifeguard muscle for muscle.

And in two whole damn days, he hadn’t touched her once. Not once.

“Hell,” she muttered to herself, remembering how he’d had every woman customer flustered and giggling.

Just then Dallas walked into the storeroom, and as she glanced up, a shiver of awareness pulsed through her. A feeling of irritation quickly followed. She had put off cleaning the storeroom until this morning, when she knew he would be coming in late. Naturally, he’d turn up when she looked like an extra in
The Creature from the Black Lagoon.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, smiling at her.

“Hardly,” she snapped, annoyed by his ridiculous compliment. “I’m hot, tired, and sweaty, and I’m wearing cut-offs and a T-shirt that are older than the Declaration of Independence. Pig-Pen looks better than I do.”

He came forward and took the mop from her hands, then brushed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. His smile widened, and he said, “You always look gorgeous, Cass. In fact, I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, no matter how you’re dressed.”

Cass tried to force back the wave of desire his touch created. It was useless. His hand smoothed back more drooping tendrils, and she felt the warmth he generated spill throughout her body. He lowered his head until his lips just brushed against hers in the sweetest caress.

They lightly touched again … and again … 
and again. Every nerve in her body was tingling in response. She wanted his mouth firmly settled on hers in a deep kiss. She wanted his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. She wanted his strong hands touching her everywhere.

She reached up to pull him closer.

He lifted his head and stepped away. “Gorgeous.”

The sensual flow was replaced by a wash of vague resentment. She took the mop from him. “Thank you. Now, get out of here so I can get the floor done.”

“Why are you doing the mopping, Cass?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the owner.”

“I’m doing it because it’s my turn,” she said, gritting her teeth. She swept the mop around in the other direction, away from him. “You can’t expect people to work for you if you’re not willing to do every job you ask of them. You ought to know that, Dallas.”

“I’ve been working in large corporations for a long time, Cass,” he said in a soft voice. “You can’t do every job there. It’s impossible. What you do is insure that all employees do their assigned jobs properly and to the best of their abilities. And you ought to know that.”

She stopped mopping and turned around. This was the prime opportunity to bring up something that had been nagging at her. “Ah, yes. Your job. You haven’t mentioned that in quite some time.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to be ready to talk about M & L,” he said, his tone gentle. “Shall we talk about it now?”

Cass eyed him warily. That was another problem
with him, she thought. He was being so … nice. “Yes, we should talk about it. That’s why you’re playing stock boy, isn’t it?”

“And you are suddenly playing bitch,” he said bluntly. “What’s the matter, Cass?”