9781631050275TheirPerfectMatchMarshNC Page 9

  “That’s very kind of you,” Zane said in a slightly choked voice. “I think I’d better let the two of you discuss the details, though.”

  “Not at all,” Antoinette insisted. “Since the lingerie is for both of you, I firmly believe it should be purchased together. All the men who come in here find it uncomfortable at first, but I consider it part of my job to help them enjoy the process. In fact, we have a special showroom for couples shopping together. Why don’t you follow me?”

  “Great,” Zane said, beaming. “I feel more at home already.” He winked at Molly. “After you, dear.”

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered through clenched teeth.

  “Sorry,” he whispered back. “I had to see you.”

  “You couldn’t make an appointment like everyone else?”

  “Shhh. Antoinette’s watching us.”

  The small room she escorted them to had been done up to look like a Victorian bedroom in miniature—complete with a curtained canopy bed, faux-Oriental dressing screen, and ornate, overstuffed chairs. The doors of the armoire stood ajar to reveal two rows of tagged chemises and nightwear that could charitably be called skimpy. A heavy chest of drawers likewise revealed delicate undergarments of various sorts, all discreetly folded so the price tags lay face-down. Molly guessed there was a very good reason for that.

  “Why don’t I show you a few things to get started?” Antoinette suggested.

  She ushered Molly and Zane into two chairs beside the bed, then reached into the dresser and removed a neatly folded stack of garments. With the speed of a Vegas blackjack dealer, she fanned a selection of nylon thigh-highs across the mattress. Molly gaped. Not only did Antoinette stock every conceivable shade of nude, she also supplied hose in black, silver, red, and a nearly transparent white lacy material. The material was so sheer that it glistened like the delicate strands of spider’s web.

  Zane whistled through his teeth.

  “You can touch them,” Antoinette encouraged him, gesturing toward the bed. “Half the fun of lingerie is the way it feels against your skin. Of course, they’ll feel much better when your lady is actually wearing them.”

  Zane brushed his palm over the black pair, while Antoinette helpfully brought over a matching garter belt.

  “Yes, the Black Narcissus. A popular choice. Classic, yet a tad less naughty than the Sinful Scarlet. And the color’s just neutral enough that you can wear these outside the bedroom, too.” She turned to Molly, who promptly felt a blush crawl from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. “If you’d like to step behind the screen, you can slip these on. You’d probably like to model them for him before you make your decision.”

  Aware that her face was probably redder than the naughtiest stockings on the bed, Molly scooted backward in her chair. “Er…to be honest with you, none of these are really my style,” she stammered.

  Antoinette flashed her an almost pitying smile. “The Boudoir is committed to providing its customers with only the finest materials and workmanship available in lingerie today. We pride ourselves in selling you not just a garment, but a sensual experience you’ll remember long afterward.”

  “I’d say you’ve definitely achieved that,” Zane put in. “I’m pretty sure I won’t forget this afternoon anytime soon.”

  “I wasn’t only referring to the time you spend in here.” Antoinette kidded, and Molly was certain she tossed in a wink just before she bent to return the black stockings to the bed. Zane kept his attention glued to the colorful array of products. Apparently, he was so captivated by their flamboyant saleswoman that he couldn’t be bothered even to look up at Molly. Antoinette, of course, was playing his interest to the hilt. “Maybe you’d like Pewter Pleasure,” she purred, stroking the silver stocking against the inside of his wrist. “It’s a little offbeat, but it makes a nice change from the usual black, brown, or red.”

  “It’s nice,” he agreed, while Molly clenched her teeth in humiliation. Then he drew his hand back, rested it on his knee, and tilted his head so that he looked past Antoinette—and instead stared straight at her. A mischievous grin curled his lips. “Of course,” he said, “the final decision is Molly’s.”

  His warm, liquid gaze melted into hers. A sudden insight almost jolted Molly from her seat. The arousal etched so clearly in his face—and on the rest of his body, now that she took the time to notice—wasn’t meant for Antoinette at all. He had been imagining those delicate wisps of silk sexily draped over her, and no one else. For all she knew, he'd even fantasized about pulling them slowly off her…then bending to kiss every exposed inch of flesh…sort of the same thing she was envisioning now.

  Though she had the distinct sensation of the blood fleeing her cheeks, the heat trapped under her skin seemed to seethe, swell, and explode. When he stood and walked toward her, the throb of her heartbeat seemed to fill the room.

  “My presence here seems to be hindering the selection process,” he said in an amused voice. “I’ll wait in the next room while Molly chooses.” On his way out, he paused behind Molly’s chair and slid his hands over her shoulders. The momentary pressure of his fingers sent a burst of fire all the way down her breasts. “And remember, darling, this is on me. Don’t be afraid to get the best.”

  “Not to worry,” Antoinette purred after he’d slipped back through the heavy curtains. “A lot of men react that way their first time here. Some of them just need more guidance than others. Your second visit should be far more relaxed and enjoyable.”

  Molly wondered just how often Antoinette’s other clients shopped here. Weekly? Monthly? Whenever their love lives needed a little boost? She was beginning to see how beneficial—and profitable—a special service like Antoinette’s could be. “It’s all right,” she conceded. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure there’ll be a second time.”

  Antoinette frowned. “Now that attitude won’t help at all. Would you mind a suggestion?”

  “I guess not.” Balefully she considered the stockings spread out on the bed. Much as she couldn’t see herself vamping it up in scarlet fishnets, choosing a dull brown pair would only reinforce Antoinette’s—and no doubt Zane’s—opinion of her as a pathetic, repressed prude. Maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth.

  “Take home the black stockings. A guy can’t fake a reaction like that.” Crossing to the armoire, Antoinette reached inside and pulled out a pale red garment on a tiny hanger. “Just like he won’t be able to fake his reaction to this.”

  Molly gaped at what had to be the wispiest scrap of nightwear known to humankind. The bodice—if there was even enough of it to justify that designation—seemed to have been fashioned from mosquito netting, while the shoulder straps resembled fish line. A filmy pair of matching panties completed the ensemble, with leg holes cut so high that Molly wondered why the designer had even bothered. A strategically placed strip of duct tape might have covered more.

  She swallowed hard when Antoinette held it up against her, explaining how nicely it would go with the black hose and how beautifully it complemented her golden-brown skin. Molly was surprised to hear herself say, “I don’t know.” She’d meant to say, “I don’t think so.” What was the matter with her? No way was she about to bop around her bedroom in an outrageous get-up like that. The idea of wearing the stockings and garter belt with it was beyond mortifying.

  So why didn’t she put the freeze on Antoinette’s butter-smooth sales patter?

  Maybe because her mind kept replaying the expression on Zane’s face when he’d looked up from the bed at her.

  “Trust me,” Antoinette was saying. “I’ve developed a real feel for people’s tastes—especially men’s. If you want to drive him mad with passion, this little number’s the ticket. Though if you ask me,” she added with a sly wink, “I doubt you’d have to go too far out of your way.”

  Molly expelled a shaky breath and gave in. Maybe if she bought something, she reasoned, she could get the heck out of here. “Can we wrap it up in h
ere? I don’t want Zane to see it…uh, I mean, yet.”

  “Of course. I understand completely,” Antoinette gathered up the black stockings, the matching garter belt, and the miniscule nightdress and carried them over to the bureau. All three pieces fit easily in a single piece of pink tissue paper, which she slid into a plain white garment box. Molly supposed she could always suspend the box from two shoestrings if she wanted something more concealing. “You’ve made an excellent choice.”

  Though Molly doubted it, at some level she hoped Antoinette was right.

  * * * *

  Zane paced the shop, eyeing the antique-looking curtain that separated him from both women. He’d completely lost it this time—his mind, his perspective…and very nearly his self-control. Had he stayed in that room a moment longer, surrounded by sex-wear expressly designed to drive a guy stark raving mad, he would have jumped up, hauled Molly Grayson into his arms, and planted a blistering kiss on her nervous little squiggle of a mouth.

  Luckily, he’d had the presence of mind not to get them both thrown out of the shop. Molly wouldn’t have appreciated that. Worse, she couldn’t choose anything for him to admire later…hopefully in a more private setting.

  It wasn’t just the garter belts that did him in. Though vulnerability had never ranked high on his list of desirable qualities in a lover, that shy self-consciousness of hers turned him on beyond belief. For reasons he couldn’t totally fathom, Molly seemed genuinely unaware that she was a vibrant, beautiful woman who was more than capable of exciting a man. Watching her squirm at the idea of modeling the stockings, then go rigid with nervousness when she sensed his lust, felt as intimate as seeing her with her clothes off.

  More importantly, it fueled his conviction that Alaric was way off base about her. More than ever, he felt more confident in his original plan to come clean with her and see if they could start fresh.

  He waited by the register until the curtain trembled, and Molly stepped out with a white box under her arm. Antoinette slipped behind the counter to accept the gold credit card Zane offered her. He noted with satisfaction that Molly quickly intervened and completed the transaction with her own funds. She even produced a coupon she had somehow crumpled almost beyond recognition.

  “I think it’s my turn to pay, don’t you think, sweetie?” she teased him with a coy glance over her shoulder. “You’ve been so patient with all this girl stuff.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mind a bit.” Zane grinned and winked. He saw Antoinette suppress a smile of her own.

  “Thank you for playing along,” Molly said once they were back on the sidewalk. Luckily, she seemed to accept his explanation that he had spotted her driving into the lot and had stopped to talk. In return, he decided to believe her assertion that she had mistaken Antoinette’s for a very different sort of clothing store. “I have no idea what just happened in there, but I never expected my little shopping trip to turn into such an…ordeal.”

  “It wasn’t an ordeal…at least, not in the way you mean. Women’s undergarments are a universal mystery to most guys. I suppose I was kind of an ambassador for the entire male species.”

  “You probably didn’t visit many lingerie shops when you were in the service.”

  “True enough. Although I did visit a few ports where the women would come to meet the ships wearing stuff like that…and little else. Not that I paid much attention,” he added when he saw her face tighten. “Teddies and camisoles are nice, but I prefer women with a little more substance.”

  “Yes, you amply demonstrated that while Antoinette showed you those stockings.”

  “Like I said, I was standing in for bewildered guys everywhere. Naturally I was a little awe-struck.”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  Zane watched closely as she tried—and failed—to bite back a grin, then hitched the box more tightly under her arm. He recalled that she’d also refused to let him carry it when they’d first walked out of the shop. Maddeningly, he still had no idea what, exactly, she’d purchased. He longed to know whether she’d gone with the vixenish red, the tried-but-true black, or one of the safer shades of cream. And had she worked up the nerve to throw in the garter belt?

  For now, all he could do was fantasize—and so far he was doing plenty of that.

  * * * *

  She stopped beside her car.

  “All right,” she said, after glancing at the shop to make sure no one was in hearing range. “You said you wanted to talk to me. You follow me here and embarrassed me beyond belief in order to do so. Talk, then. What can I do for you that couldn’t wait until business hours tomorrow?”

  Zane hesitated, but decided to take a deep breath and plunge ahead. The way his blood was racing, he couldn’t have been sly and subtle even if he’d wanted to. “Okay. Here’s the thing. I wanted to tell you thanks for the dates, but after three of them—each worse than the last—I‘ve realized that this computer thing just isn’t working for me. Not that I blame you. Quite the reverse. I think the problem is that I really want to date you instead.”

  He couldn’t tell if her surprise was genuine. “Me!”

  “And since you won’t date clients, I have to drop out of the service. So I’m prepared to do that. I won’t even ask for a refund. All I ask is that you stop looking at me as a customer, and look at me as a man instead.”

  Molly looked down at the box in her hands, but then seemed to think better of that and dropped her gaze to the ground instead. “I already do, Zane. I have from the beginning.”

  “Okay, then. It’s settled—but I hope you don’t mind if I do one last thing to seal the deal.” He stepped forward, tilted her chin up with his fingertips, and kissed her hard.

  Molly closed her eyes as the heat from his lips seared through her, awakening passions she’d suppressed all week. Every night, despite what she now recognized were her efforts to fix him up with women he would not find appealing, she’d wondered if he was in bed with one of them. It had been torture.

  “We want each other,” he whispered when they broke apart. “Why deny it? Don’t you think about us now and then…about how good we could be together?”

  “Yes,” she said in a husky voice, too overcome with emotion to prepare any sort of witty or evasive answer. “I have thought about it. Have you?”

  “Just about every waking minute, and then some.”

  A coy smile tugged at her lips. She hugged the box from the lingerie shop closer to her side. “Well, then. It would be insensitive of me to turn down an ambassador for the male species, don’t you think?”

  “You mean that?” He paused for her to nod. “That puts the ball back in my court, doesn’t it? I have to come up with some evening extravaganza that will sweep you off your silk-covered feet.” His gaze flicked to the box in her arms.

  “Oh? Don’t tell me you think the man should be in charge of every aspect of every date.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. But I do think it’s my duty to impress you, especially since you’re the dating expert.”

  She offered an uneasy laugh. “Hardly.”

  “Your business cards say different. Anyway, in this case I have to insist that I make the arrangements. I want to make sure we go someplace where you can wear those new stockings.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure I’ll have the nerve to wear those in private.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Zane grinned. “It means you chose the naughty ones.”

  “They all seemed naughty to me.”

  “Naughty can be fun.” Zane smoothed a single strand of hair away from the delicate lobe of her ear. She shuddered as his touch ignited her skin and sent a spark of need pulsing down the core of her body. “I’d like to help you discover that for yourself.”

  “I never doubted it. It’s just…not me. It never has been. I’m not the naughty type, any more than I’m the sexy-stockings type.”

  “I think you’re all that, and more.” His fingers drifted lower to stroke her c
heek. “How about a detour to my place? You can try your new purchases on there. Antoinette said they were for both of us. Remember?”

  “So that’s your idea of the perfect date?”

  His voice dropped to a growl. “Yes. Especially the taking you home part.”

  Molly sucked in a breath. “I don’t know,” she sputtered.

  “Risks, Molly. Risks are what you need. You told me so yourself last week.” His lips returned, smearing away her doubts, igniting things deep inside that she swore she’d never feel for any man.

  “All right, then,” she said. The words came out in a gaspy rush as the force of her desire left her lightheaded. “Let’s go for it. There’s only one condition—I want to take my own car.”

  “All right.” He stepped back, letting his hands drop to his sides with obvious reluctance. “Just promise me you won’t lose your nerve and turn around along the way.”

  “I won’t,” she told him.

  “Follow me, then.” He backed away toward his own car, his hand stretched out in the air between them, beckoning her.

  “Anywhere,” she whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  She felt her stomach do another flip as she walked into Zane’s apartment. Though she’d arrived only a few minutes after he had, he already stood waiting with a glass of white wine extended. Her fingers trembled as she accepted it from him with her free hand. The other still clutched the lingerie box.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, desperately trying not to spill the entire drink.

  His voice soothed her. “A little nervousness can be a positive thing. It shows you that you’re testing yourself, stretching your boundaries.”

  “And I suppose raw terror is even better?”

  “At times.”

  “Is that something you learned at sea?”