AdonisinTexas Page 2

  “Yeah, you do.” His low tone was deep and intimate and it held a slight southern drawl. He glanced around her shop, then asked, “Where do you keep the first aid kit?”

  She was bleeding all over the white cushion of the delicate sofa. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered. “I swear the Lord must be telling me lingerie is the devil’s clothes.”

  He stared curiously at her. “Wanna explain that?”

  “Never mind,” she mumbled.

  Her heart returned to its normal location. Her pulse slowed. Dread set in. Despite the fact she was completely blown away by Ryan Bain standing before her in all his Adonis-like glory, she couldn’t see past the disappointing reality that faced her. He was Jonathan and Lydia Bain’s nephew. And she wouldn’t be surprised if he had a pious lecture up his sleeve about letting those two strangers into her shop. Or about the boutique, in general.

  She shook her head, finding it incredibly ironic Ryan had been the one to save her. Worse, he completely enthralled her with his large, hunky body, devastatingly handsome face and mesmerizing blue eyes. She’d been wrong about there being no such thing as instant lust. Yet it was a moot point. This man was strictly off limits.

  Ginger attempted to stand, but he held a hand out to keep her seated.

  “Just hang tight, sweetheart.” Concern for her safety and well-being flashed in his captivating gaze. He likely wanted to chase after the criminals, but it was quite clear he feared leaving her alone. “Tell me where to find the Band-Aids.”

  “Bottom drawer of the cashier’s desk,” she said, trying to ignore how his causal term of endearment lit a bonfire within her. The sensation warred with the dread she’d experienced over him being related to her nemesis.

  She cupped her bleeding elbow in her palm as he went for the bandages. The cut stung, but she was more upset over the attack and her damaged furniture. The asshole with the dark hair had run off with her cash too.

  Fury ripped through her, but she reminded herself she was safe now and that mattered most.

  Her angst lingered, however, as Ryan returned and knelt beside her.

  “How’d you know those guys followed me in here?” she asked, myriad emotions running rampant within her, including the relief she hadn’t become a rape statistic.

  “I was across the street at the diner when I saw them come in behind you. Didn’t look as though they were the sort you’d be friends with.”

  “No.” She shuddered. To distract herself from the hellacious scare she’d had, she asked, “You in town for the rodeo?”

  He grinned again and it made his eyes shimmer under the soft lights. “Longer than that, I hope.”

  She hadn’t seen Ryan Bain in seven years, since they’d graduated high school and he’d gone off to a Christian college in Arizona. As teenagers, they’d been friends, but he’d been too wrapped up in sports and bible study to pay much attention to her.

  While he’d been attractive back then, he’d grown into one seriously gorgeous man. But he was a Bain, which meant she had to completely disregard her hormones as they kicked into high gear at his nearness.

  Damn it, though. He was breathtaking, with crazily mussed blond hair and vibrant cerulean eyes. He had a strong jawline, chiseled cheeks and a sexy smile. Dressed in a black, button-down shirt, black jeans and boots, he had a devilish appearance that complemented his commanding presence. And he had a hotter-than-hell body with broad shoulders and powerful-looking thighs. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms and she imagined his biceps were just as muscular.

  He easily sparked carnal cravings she’d never experienced before. Her fingers suddenly itched to glide over his tanned skin or tangle in his tousled hair.

  But that was all bad and wrong. So much so, her body tensed at the unexpected and highly forbidden situation she’d found herself in with Ryan.

  Apparently, he mistook her tension for fear.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Ginger,” he told her in a low voice as he reached for her arm.

  “I know,” she said with a soft smile. She forced herself to relax, wanting to prove she wasn’t afraid of him. The truth was, Ryan was one man she’d trust with her life. He’d always been very kind to her and her grandfather and she’d secretly had a crush on him in high school.

  His big hands were gentle as he lightly clasped her wrist with one and her upper arm with the other, just below the short sleeve of her blouse. His skin was warm and supple, his touch downright electrifying. She squirmed in her seat at the tickle of sexual awareness along her clit.

  Ryan carefully turned her elbow to inspect it. “I don’t see any glass. Doesn’t look too bad.”

  He released her wrist and dabbed at the blood with a couple of tissues he’d snagged from the box on her desk. She winced and his gaze jerked up to meet hers.

  “Sorry,” he said, an apologetic expression in his hypnotic eyes. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “It’s not your fault. I was clumsy.”

  “You were likely terrified,” he said as he set aside the tissues and unzipped the canvas-covered first aid kit sitting on the cushion next to her. He tore open a packet of triple-action antibiotic and grazed the cut with the moist pad. She refused to utter a sound over the burning sensation, not wanting to make him feel bad.

  He covered the laceration with a bandage and then stood, tossed the scraps in the trash bin and returned the first aid kit to the desk drawer.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say, her mouth having gone as dry as the Sahara as she stared at his enticing backside. The man’s ass did incredible things to a simple pair of jeans.

  When he was done, he sauntered back to the settee and she admired how stealthily he moved, especially for such a big guy. He had to be six-two or three, and he was so magnificently built, she had to tamp down the sigh bubbling in her throat.

  “Do you have a broom handy? I’ll clean this for you.” He gestured toward the shattered glass.

  “I don’t. I have a service that will be in first thing in the morning. I’ll pay them extra for dealing with the mess.”

  He knelt beside her again so she didn’t have to crane her neck to stare up at him. And maybe so he didn’t intimidate her. Ginger pressed her legs together because her skirt had raised a few notches during her ordeal.

  Resting her hands in her lap, she said in an honest and humble tone, “I would have been in very serious trouble if you hadn’t come crashing in.”

  He gave her that easy grin that made her stomach flutter. “You did a good job with the redhead.”

  “I’m not sure I would have taken the risk if you weren’t here. He was really heavy and he didn’t look to be the type of guy to piss off if I didn’t hit him hard enough to get him off me.”

  Ryan brushed a long blonde curl from her face and asked, “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Shaken, but I’ll survive.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to take some self-defense classes. There’s not much to you, sweetheart.”

  He stood again and walked back to the desk. The receiver of the phone had hit the floor when she’d been attacked. He picked it up, then eyed her over one ridiculously broad shoulder. “You almost got a call into 911?”

  “Yes. I told them to take my money and get out, but they wanted me to go with them.” A tremor rippled through her at how horrific the incident could have been had Ryan not interceded.

  With a lifted brow, he asked, “They robbed you too?”

  Ginger sighed. “Took all the cash I’d made today.” She shook her head and said, “I seriously cannot catch a break.”

  “We’ll see about that. I’m calling the sheriff. He’ll find these guys—and maybe get your money back as well.”

  Ginger shot to her feet as adrenaline rushed through her. “No, no, no!” she said as she scurried over to the desk and grabbed the phone from his hand. “You can’t do that. Please don’t do that.”

  He stared incredulously at her. “You were robbed and assault
ed, Ginger. We’re reporting it to the police.”

  Clutching the handset to her chest as panic pressed in on her, she said, “Word’ll spread.”

  “And that’ll put people on guard so it doesn’t happen again. I got a good look at the dark-haired guy, and the other one left his beer on the table. His fingerprints will be on the paper bag. They should be easy to track down. They probably have prior arrests—something tells me you’re not their first victim.”

  “No, they knew what they were doing.”

  Point proven, he held his hand out and said, “Phone.”

  Ginger’s heart sank. Giving him an imploring look, she said, “I can’t let your aunt and uncle find out about this, Ryan. I can already hear the ‘I told you so’ in Lydia’s voice. She can’t stand my boutique and I know she’ll tell the whole town I got what I deserved for advertising my ‘pornographic’ clothes on the street.”

  Ryan’s brow furrowed. “First, I’d hardly call these clothes pornographic. Sexy, sure, but in a sophisticated, classy way.” He glanced around, then added, “They’re all very frilly and girly and… I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I like ’em.”

  That little tickle between her legs turned into a sharp tingle that was distracting, but also incredibly enticing. Foreign, yes, but she enjoyed the stimulation, given her lifelong lack of it.

  “Second,” he said, “you absolutely did not deserve—or encourage—what happened to you. I saw you hurry inside to get away from them and, Ginger, you’ve never dressed provocatively, invitin’ that kind of attention.”

  He spoke the truth. She wore a navy skirt with a respectable hem, just above the knees, and a short-sleeved, button-down satin blouse in ecru. The heels on her comfortable shoes, which matched the color of her skirt, were low and sensible, since she stood most of the day.

  “Finally,” Ryan concluded, “who is my Aunt Lydia to pass judgment on you or the lingerie you sell?”

  She gaped. Never in a million years would she have expected Ryan Bain to say such a thing.

  He chuckled at her startled expression and added, “I’m not saying anything bad about her, mind you. I just think, you know…to each his—or her—own. Live and let live. That sort of thing.”

  Ginger nearly melted into her sensible pumps. “Wow,” she said, “that’s very open-minded of you.”

  “Don’t go lumping me into the self-righteous group, darlin’. I’m no troublemaker, but I’ve committed my fair share of sins. I’m not one to cast stones.” He winked playfully at her and her nipples tightened behind her lacy bra at the intimate gesture.

  She’d been the one to misjudge him.

  “So you don’t find my store offensive?” she ventured.

  “Not at all. I don’t know what half of this stuff is, but I think every woman should wear lingerie.”

  She laughed, the tightness in her chest loosening. “Typical red-blooded male.”

  His eyes blazed as he asked, “Were you expecting something different?”

  Ginger admitted, “Considering you lived with Jonathan and Lydia after your parents died, and the fact you went to a Christian college to study ministry…”

  His jaw clenched briefly. He said, “I chose a different path after I left Wilder.” He didn’t elaborate further. Rather, he changed the subject back to what had happened to her. “I hear where you’re coming from, Ginger. And I don’t want to cause problems for you. I’ll see what I can do when I speak with the sheriff.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

  “Do you have a bag I can put the evidence in?”

  “Sure.” After replacing the receiver on its base, she rounded the desk and pulled out one of the small, plain bags she used for massage oils, lubricants and body paint before placing them in the larger, red shopper’s bags embossed with her boutique’s discreet and simple name, Ginger’s, in gold print.

  Ryan carefully collected the paper sack and can and placed them in the bag, then said, “How about you lock up and I’ll walk you to your car?”

  She suddenly remembered she was due at dinner with her friends. Stealing a glance at the grandfather clock her grandfather, ironically, had left her when he’d passed a few years ago, she swore under her breath. Then pressed two fingers to her lips as she let out a little eep.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Ryan grinned. “Stop thinking of me as some goody two shoes.”

  In truth, it really was difficult to consider him in those terms. He seemed to be a man who’d been around the block a time or two and knew what he was doing in the bedroom. The thought sent a titillating thrill down her spine.

  She said, “I’m late for dinner at Pietro’s with friends.” For a fleeting moment, she contemplated asking him if he’d like to join them. But it was Friday night and she knew Lydia and Jonathan would be at the popular restaurant.

  Ginger had experienced enough trauma for one day. She didn’t need Lydia burning a hole in her head during dinner if she saw her with Ryan. Nor could she stomach the sting of rejection if he turned her down.

  Offering an arm to her in a gallant way, he said, “I’ll walk you to the restaurant. It’s on the way to the sheriff’s office.”

  She grabbed her purse, set the deadbolt on the door and strolled casually with Ryan down the sparsely populated sidewalk. Her arm was linked with his, her hand on his rock-hard biceps. The feel of his rigid muscles beneath her fingers warmed her insides. And damn, did he smell good. Musky and masculine. Expensive cologne mixed with male heat.

  He made her clit tingle and kept her in a constant state of arousal without doing a thing.

  To divert her attention from the erotic—and still so bad and wrong—effect he had on her, she said, “You didn’t even break a sweat when you tackled that guy.”

  “I’ve had some training.” Glancing down at her, he added, “I could teach you a few moves, if you want.”

  She’d never needed to defend herself physically in a small, quiet town such as this, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to pick up a few tips. Besides, it was an excuse to spend more time with Ryan.

  Is that really such a good idea?

  The thought formed quickly in her head, making her frown.

  Ryan misread her once again. He said, “I promise you won’t get hurt. I’ll be careful with you.”

  She laughed, hoping to put his mind at ease. “That’s not at all what I was thinking. You were very gentle with my arm.”

  Recalling how it’d felt to have his big hands on her body sent a shot of exhilaration through her. He incited a riot of sensations she’d given up on ever experiencing. Being so close to him ignited a searing, throbbing feeling deep in her pussy. He made her feel safe, with his hunky body and tender touch, but also sexy as he gazed down at her with an appreciative look.

  When they reached Pietro’s, Ryan stopped short of the door and propped his shoulder against the brick wall. Ginger reluctantly released his arm.

  He continued to stare at her, a flicker of heat in his eyes. He said, “I’d really like to see you again. If you’re not currently involved, that is.”

  Warning signals went off in her head, but Ginger conveniently ignored them. The excitement coursing through her was much too pleasant and certainly too powerful to brush off.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked in a breathy voice.

  “I’ve got some business to take care of this weekend, but how about dinner on Sunday night?”

  She groaned. “The Holy Day? Not a chance in hell.”

  His jaw tightened briefly. “Stop thinking everyone will disapprove.”

  “I don’t care about ‘everyone’. Your relatives are my biggest concern.”

  “We’re adults, Ginger. And, quite frankly, I don’t give a damn what anyone says if they see us together. I get to decide who I date. So…just say yes.”

  Laughing softly, she said, “You’re very persuasive, Rhett Butler.”

  “Six o’clock?”


  She nodded. “That’d be perfect.”

  “Where should I pick you up?”

  “The store. I’ll be working.”

  The corners of his tempting mouth turned downward. “You work seven days a week?”

  “Yes. But I’m only open from ten to six, unless there’s something going on downtown that might draw in customers.”

  Though her patronage had picked up, she still couldn’t justify or afford part-time help. Not yet anyway. With her sales from her website supplementing her income, she hoped to hire someone in a few months, and then she’d open a bit earlier and hopefully find some way to draw in more of a crowd.

  “All work and no play,” Ryan mused.

  “That’s the price of fulfilling a dream.”

  He nodded and said, “Gotcha.” His free hand grazed her arm as he added, “At least your evenings are free.”

  Ginger’s stomach flipped. “Indeed they are.”

  “Then I’ll see you on Sunday.” He winked at her again before sauntering off toward the sheriff’s office.

  She watched him go, admiring the view. Her buzzing cell phone, however, reminded her she was late. It was likely Liza calling. Ginger didn’t bother answering since she’d arrived at the restaurant.

  Despite the low points of the evening, there was a smile on her face—thanks to Ryan—as she pulled open the door to Pietro’s. She strolled over to the hostess stand manned by Ruby Jones, a vivacious, full-figured redhead who owned the place with her husband, Mike. The town joke was that there was no Italian chef named Pietro in Wilder. Regardless, the food was astounding. As Ginger approached the podium, she inhaled the delicious scent of spicy Italian sausage and peppers in a zesty sauce.

  “Pasta Bolognese?” she guessed as she mentally crossed her fingers.

  Ruby’s head bobbed up and down. “Tonight’s special. You want a menu?”

  “Nope. Already made up my mind.”

  The other woman lifted her arms in the air. “No one ever wants a menu.” She wore one of her infamous aprons, this one simply saying “Bombshell” across her ample chest.

  “You know you’re late,” Ruby told her. “Your party’s already here. They were gettin’ worried about you.”