“I’m not! What possible reason could I have to matchmake for my unmarried, wealthy son, who is rapidly approaching the big four-oh, so he gets to spend a romantic evening with Melinda, a nice girl who has a Harvard degree, a good family, beautiful manners…”
I made a gagging noise.
Mom huffed and changed tack. “Unless you don’t like girls anymore? The MacArthurs have a sweet interior designer son. He’s charming, and I know he’ll make a great father. You should see how caring he is to his grandmother.”
I saw where this was going, and any setup my mother could manage wouldn’t interest me. “If I were gay, I would have told you. In the nicest possible way, back out of my love life, Mom. Love ya. Got to go.”
I hung up on her laugh.
At the same moment, the woman across the room raised her gaze to mine. Electricity fizzed in my veins. I expected her to look away. Or drop her gaze with a hint of a smile. The stranger didn’t. Instead, she cocked her head and drew her eyebrows in, that curiosity choosing me as its subject.
I stood taller, wondering what she saw. Despite the day of business meetings, I wasn’t in a suit. It was part of my persona that I stayed close to my blue-collar roots. It kept me honest andmy mind on the important things in life. I didn’t make money for money’s sake, though I happened to be good at it.
Today, I wore a dark-grey t-shirt with the brand of a mechanics’ chain I owned in Brockton, snug for my build, along with dark slacks. Neither entirely casual nor business-smart. I liked that people read me wrong on first impression. The ink on my arms enabled the same.
For unknown reasons, I had to know the stranger’s mind. Why she was here. What had happened last night to have her running.
Still, she didn’t drop my gaze on my approach. In fact, her lips quirked. “Lost? Or have men’s boxers started hanging out in the push-up section?”
Ah fuck. She was funny, too.
I stuck my hands in my pockets. “They haven’t. Yet. But give the fashion houses time.” I nodded to the nearby desk. “Interview?”
“Something like that.”
If she got the job, she could be working for me.
She tapped her lip. “Let me guess, you’re here to buy a gift for your girlfriend and could use some advice from an owner of breasts.”
I fought like a madman to not stare at the breasts in question. Again. Even though their shape was branded in my mind. “No girlfriend, so guess again.” Then a devil inside me supplemented my answer with a better one, made of interest, lust, and other rising emotions. “Unless you’re offering me a tour? I won’t turn you down.”
She pressed her lips together, hiding a smile.
She’d shoot me down. No way she’d continue this. But again, she surprised me.
Gracefully, she stood, keeping a close hold on her bag. “What’s your name?”
I poked my tongue into my cheek. “Whatever you want it to be.”
Interest flared in her eyes. “Ethan, then.”
Remarkably close to the bone, and yet… “Choose another. That’s my little brother’s name.”
“Is Edward in the clear?”
I nodded approval. “And you are?”
She made a gesture for me to select one.
“Brenda,” I decided.
‘Brenda’ reached out a hand to shake mine. At the touch of her warm, soft skin, another bolt of that shockingly powerful energy shot through me. She released me and stepped to the end of the rack, ignorant of the effect I was still reeling under.
The deep, rolling lust that was tightening its grip.
Christ, she smelled good.
“New in town, Edward?” she asked.