Silk on the Skin: A Loveswept Classic Romance (4 page)

Twenty-four hours after his lunch date with Cass, Dallas pulled his BMW into a parking slot in front of the big bay window of WinterLand. He shut off the car’s engine, but made no move to get out of the vehicle.

Everything so far had gone very smoothly, he thought. He’d met her, had wrangled a lunch date, and begun planting the first seeds of his plans for her. So why the hell did he have this sudden nagging doubt about the whole thing?

He admitted that she was the exact opposite of the kind of person who had been described to him. Maybe it was the way her eyes seemed to question what a person was saying. Maybe it was the strong attraction he felt for her, Maybe he really did need a vacation.

Dallas smiled at the last thought. Everybody at the office, including his secretary, believed he was on a very fast-paced business trip in Europe to
find new outlets for M & L, and he was calling in nightly.

He reminded himself that this was business. After all, he was being paid to turn profits around. He’d always delivered on a job, and he was damn proud of that fact. Occasionally, though, a company’s problems involved mismanagement at the top echelon, and his employers were usually the victims of the inevitable shake-up he caused.

That was probably why he’d wound up back on the unemployment line himself afterward, he thought in amusement. Nobody ever liked the guy who did the dirty work. Still, falling profits had been everywhere, and the pay for fixing them had outweighed any disadvantages.

Fortunately, only one man was the cause of the problem this time, he acknowledged with satisfaction. Ned Marks. But once the “problem” was resolved, Dallas knew there would be nothing to stop him from finding a home at the company. M & L would need a permanent CEO after Ned was gone. But Cass was the key to the whole thing. Smiling, he decided she’d look just great in the chairman’s chair. First, though, he had to get her there.

Visions of her breasts thrusting against a sheer business blouse ran through his mind. He forced it away. Whatever it was about her, he’d have to keep it under strict control.

Giving himself a final lecture on the subject of Cass, he opened the car door and climbed out into hot sunlight. As he walked toward the door of the store, he was grateful to be wearing slacks and a shirt of light cotton. It had to be at least
ninety already, he thought, and the cooling sea breezes didn’t quite reach the few miles inland where WinterLand was located.

He opened the front door, and a bell jangled throughout the empty shop. He stepped into the cool, air-conditioned room just as Cass appeared at the entrance to the storeroom. He completely forgot his lecture on business as he admired the matching print slacks and blouse that skimmed over her slim curves.

“It’s only Dallas,” she called out to someone in the back as she walked around the counter.

“Your enthusiasm overwhelms me,” he said, stopping next to a Christmas dinnerware display.

“Sorry about that,” she said as she passed him. “But I decided to close up for the next several hours. I must have forgotten to lock the door and put up the ‘Closed’ sign.”

An older woman poked her head around the storeroom door. “Ahem!”

Still clearly intent on her quest for the front door, Cass didn’t bother to turn around as she said, “Dallas, meet Jean Raswell, my assistant manager. Jean, Dallas Carter.”

“Hello!” Jean called out, waving her hand.

Dallas smiled at her. “Hello.”

After Jean disappeared into the back again, he strode over to Cass, who was just locking up. “You decided to close up?”

“Yes. I … damn!”

A car engine outside drew his attention. He looked out the diamond panes of the door’s window to see a car swinging into the slot next to his.

“So much for a brilliant idea,” she muttered in
a disgusted tone, unlocking the door again. She turned toward the back of the store and shouted, “Jean! Don’t put lunch in the pot yet, we’ve got customers!”

“Too late!” came the reply from the back room. “It’s your own fault for not locking the bloody door!”

“Hell!”

“What’s the problem?” Dallas asked, curious.

“Dallas!” Cass cried, focusing her gaze on him as if she’d just realized he was standing next to her. “Do me a favor and keep an eye on these customers?”

“But I don’t know anything about Christmas stuff,” he protested.

“Well, I don’t know anything about selling nighties, but that’s not stopping you from trying to get me to meddle in M & L’s business,” she pointed out, pushing him backward in the direction of the counter. “All you have to do is stand behind the register and look like you know what you’re doing. They’re probably just out for a ride and a browse. I doubt they’ll buy anything. But if they do—”

“I’m a lost cause,” Dallas quipped.

“No, you’re not.” When they were behind the counter, she yanked an expandable key ring off her wrist, inserted a key in the cash-register lock, and turned it. “I was going to say that if they buy something, you’ll need to get into the cash drawer. Just hit the ‘No Sale’ key, and it’ll open. There’s a receipt pad under the counter, too, so you can give them a handwritten one at least. I’ll ring it up later.” She patted his arm. “Thanks a lot. You
saved my lunch, and prevented crab-withdrawal symptoms.”

“Crabs!” he exclaimed, staring at her. “You’re going to eat crabs? Now?”

“Of course I’m going to eat them!” she said in exasperation. “I didn’t spend half the morning catching the little suckers for their health!”

As she walked away, he said, “You’re very trusting, Cass.”

“No, I’m not. I
want
my crabs!”

She disappeared into the storeroom at the same moment that two women walked into the shop. Hell, he thought, as he moved toward the end of the counter.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, forcing a wide smile to his lips. “Can I help you?”

A short while later he walked into the storeroom, to find Cass seated in an office chair, her sandaled feet atop an old desk, while Jean sat on a long worktable. Both of them were eating their lunch.

“They …” His voice trailed away as he watched Cass bring a steaming hunk of pink-tinged meat up to her lips and slip it into her mouth. Her eyes closed. A smile of pure ecstasy curved her lips as she savored the freshly cooked crab. The aroma of sweet shellfish permeated the room, and his stomach growled. Eyeing the two large and beautifully reddened crabs lying in splendor atop a plate on the desk, he decided he’d be damned before he’d miss out on a great meal like this. Then he remembered why he had come into the storeroom.

“
Your
customers want to pay by charge,” he said, grinning evilly at the thought of his unexpected revenge.

Cass opened her eyes and sat up. She gave the plate of crabs a look of obvious longing, then turned her gaze to him, her eyes gleaming with hope. “All you have to do—”

“Forget it,” Dallas said, sitting down next to Jean. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d screw up the whole system like the guy in
The Man from the Diner’s Club.
”

She shifted her gaze to her assistant manager.

“I wasn’t the one who left the door open,” Jean said, not looking up as she picked out the meat inside a claw with a pair of long tweezers.

“Two real humanitarians,” Cass said, rising. She took two steps, then pointed at the crabs. “Nobody touch these!”

Dallas added his nod of agreement to Jean’s. He also crossed his fingers.

As soon as Cass left the room, Jean handed him the tweezers.

He chuckled. “What gave me away?”

“Nothing. I just know a fellow liar when I meet one,” Jean said with a laugh. “Better get them before Cass gets back.”

“Thanks.” He leaned over and picked up the plate. Expertly cracking open the shell, he discarded the inedible portions and proceeded to pick out the delicate meat. His first bite literally melted in his mouth, and he decided the crab was as fresh and delicious as the woman who had provided it. As he dug out a second portion he commented, “I’ve eaten my share of shellfish, but I’ve never seen anyone use tweezers before.”

“They’re surgical tweezers,” Jean said, hopping off the table.

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope. Former nurse’s ingenuity. You should see what I use for dicing potatoes.”

Dallas coughed. “I’d rather not.”

Jean chuckled.

They heard Cass’s voice before they saw her.

“Seventy-five bucks. Not bad for being closed …” Her voice faded as she came fully into the room. She stared at the claw Dallas was holding, then transferred her accusing gaze to his. “You ate my crabs!”

“Only one,” Dallas said in a casual voice. He picked out another piece and ate it.

She narrowed her eyes as she stalked toward him. “They were my crabs, Dallas Carter. Mine. I got up at dawn to catch them. I cooked them—”

“I cooked them,” Jean broke in.

“I filled the pot and started the water,” Cass said, without pausing in her tirade. “Those two were mine. The last two”—she slammed her palm on the table for emphasis—“and you had the nerve to eat one of them!”

“Sure did,” Dallas agreed, and ate a piece. He dug out a fresh bit and held it up. “Wanna bite?”

“You bet!”

She pulled the meat off the tweezers and ate it, then grabbed up the last crab and quickly broke away the shell. “I’ll let you get away with it this one time. Out of the generosity of my heart.”

“You don’t have a heart where crabs are concerned,” Jean said.

“Right.” Cass pointed a crab claw at Dallas. She held out her hand. “Tweezers, please.”

He handed her the tweezers and watched as she
greedily took the meat from the shell. “Best catch in a while.”

“Good enough,” Jean said. “It’s too nice a day to be inside, so I think I’ll take the afternoon off. Wednesdays are slow, anyway, and by the time you get around to reopening, Mary will be in. You can clean up the mess and fire me tomorrow.”

“Thanks much,” Cass said sarcastically before licking the moisture from around her lips.

Dallas suppressed a shudder of reaction to her erotic yet innocent act. He wondered what it would be like to feel her doing that to his lips.

“It was nice meeting you, Dallas,” Jean said after she picked up her purse. There was a definite gleam of mischief in her eyes as she held out her hand.

He grinned as he shook it. He liked Cass’s assistant manager. “It was my pleasure, Jean.”

“See you later, Cass,” Jean added. “And try not to throw yourself at the man.”

Cass choked on her crab.

Not long after Jean left, Cass realized how prophetic her assistant manager was. Being alone with Dallas had unquestionably made her temperature rise. The storeroom, usually more than adequate for the shop’s needs, was suddenly too damned small, she thought as she escaped to the bathroom to wash out the steamer pot. The instant she had discovered he had been the one to enter the shop, twin bolts of anticipation and dismay had shot through her. Somehow she had managed to keep her poise, and even tease him a
little. The last thing she wanted him to know was that she knew what he was up to. But now that Jean was gone she was terrified that she
would
give in to her attraction. Usually, she was a sane and sensible woman where men were concerned.

“The sane and sensible woman is now stuck with the sexy man,” she muttered, rubbing the pot extra hard with a sponge.

She should have thrown him out, should have refused to speak to him, but just the mere notion of missing out on that delectable crab had pushed away all sane thought. Greedy, that was what she was. Just plain greedy. Now she couldn’t very well ask him to go, especially after the way he’d disarmed her anger. She’d let a barrier down, and she cursed herself for doing so.

She scrubbed the pot fiercely, grateful for the small chore, since it gave her a chance to get a firm grip on herself. She would need it, too. Her unexpected lunch guest was now in front, babysitting the store for her again, and she had a feeling he’d be hanging around for quite a while longer. She grimly reminded herself that his visit had an ulterior motive. It was so obvious he was planning a board fight and expected to emerge the winner—with her help. Still, she knew he wouldn’t leave her alone simply by her asking. Dallas Carter hadn’t climbed to where he was by accepting a “No, thanks.” If he went after something, he stuck until he got it.

She wondered if it might be better to keep him concentrating on her. After all, until he got what he wanted from her, he wouldn’t bother to move on to the smaller stockholders.

After putting the pot away, she emerged from the storeroom to find him looking over a WinterLand catalog she’d left lying on the counter. She also found herself absently admiring the lithe lines of his body. Forcing her gaze to a point above his head, she swallowed heavily.

“You have a catalog service too?” he asked, looking up.

She nodded, and gathered her control like a threadbare cloak around her as she joined him by the cash register. The shop was deserted. “Yes. It carries the business through the winter months when the store is closed. Actually, the catalog sales nearly match the store sales.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You must be doing very well.”

“I’ve done a good deal of work in order to do well,” she corrected, straightening a ceramic Christmas tree on the counter.

“Have you thought about what I told you yesterday?” he asked.

She slowly removed her hands from the knick-knack and took a deep breath. Keep it light like the conversation at lunch, she reminded herself.

She turned to face him. “Here we were, having a nice chat, and you had to go and bring up business.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it,” he said.

“There was enough dirty talk at lunch yesterday,” she said. “And I don’t mean just about naughty nighties.”

“You’d look great in one,” he commented.

She felt a hot blush rising to her cheeks, and
ruthlessly forced it away. “I thought you were against them, Dallas.”

“I lust in my heart, Cass,” he said, grinning at her. “As a matter of fact, there’s a little, and I do mean little, emerald green one that would really—”