Rachel Foster.
He still remembered her sad eyes at her high school graduation. Travis had been her sister’s age, a year older, but he’d flown back from college the year Rachel graduated, using a family visit as an excuse. Really, he’d come to see her.
He’d dated her sister for a couple of months, until Carrie had broken up with him out of the blue. A month later, Carrie was gone, and Travis had always felt as if he’d owed something to his ex-girlfriend’s sister, especially since he knew how difficult life had been for both the Foster girls.
Rachel Foster.
He hadn’t expected her to look so damn good. The girl he remembered from high school hid her figure under loose clothing and walked through the halls with her shoulders slumped over, as if she didn’t want anyone to take notice of her. Not that he’d faulted her for that. Kids had been cruel to Rachel and Carrie. Sadly, their mother’s reputation had been infamous around Jefferson High.
“I’m sorry for all the trouble.”
The sound of her soft feminine voice wafted into Travis’s ears like a long-forgotten melody, and he couldn’t help turning around to look at her. She stood at the cash counter, talking to the manager and the pimple-faced kid who both looked smitten with her.
Travis didn’t blame them. The image of Rachel in that sexy lingerie was branded on his brain, and his throat grew dry just thinking about all that feminine flesh. Her long, creamy-colored legs. Those high, firm breasts. The rounded hips, flat belly, and of course, how could he ever forget that enticing ass?
Feeling his groin tighten, Travis turned to a shelf and pretended to examine a pair of wool socks. His ears perked, however, as he continued to listen to Rachel speak.
“The line at the ladies’ fitting room was so long, and I thought I’d save time by coming over to this department,” she said, laughing softly. “I didn’t think this would happen.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” the manager replied.
“But it is. I’m sincerely sorry. It’s just that I design lingerie, and I often come by stores to see how my stuff looks.”
Travis clenched his fists to stifle another rush of desire. He knew exactly how her stuff looked. Absolutely phenomenal.
“I promise the next time I come here, I’ll stick to the women’s department.”
Travis watched from the corner of his eye as Rachel bid goodbye to the manager and sales clerk, and walked away. Without hesitation, he strode after her.
“Rachel, wait,” he called.
She paused for a moment, and then picked up her pace.
“Rachel!”
He quickened his strides until he caught up to her, then reached for her arm. The second his hand came into contact with her, electricity coursed through his body. With a jolt, he withdrew his hand.
“I have to get going,” she said in a clipped tone, spinning around quickly as if she’d rather be chased by a pack of hungry wolves than talk to him.
Irritation flickered in his gut. He got the feeling that she despised him, yet for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. He’d always been friendly to her when they were younger, and yes, he and her sister had broken up, but not by his doing. The fact that he was unable to figure out her reaction to him caused his irritation to coil into a tight knot of fury.
“I’m sure you have a minute to spare for an old acquaintance,” he said firmly.
“Actually, I don’t.”
Damn, since when did he beg for a woman’s time? Usually women lined up to spend even a second with him, and the dozens of phone numbers in his BlackBerry proved he wasn’t lacking in female attention. If he were smart he’d walk away right now. Rachel was far too emotional at the moment and he refused to be affected by her obviously fragile state.
He just wished she didn’t look so gorgeous. At sixteen, Rachel had been pretty. At thirty-one, she was a goddamn knockout, and she didn’t need lingerie to make her that way. Even now, with a pair of faded blue jeans encasing her long legs and a curve-hugging green sweater that complemented her eyes, she looked good enough to eat.
“Sorry, I really need to go,” she said, taking a step forward.
He sidestepped her and blocked her path. “Did I do something to upset you?”
She just stared at him, her emerald eyes darkening. He could swear he saw a flash of anger in those luminous circles.
“No,” she answered curtly. “You did nothing to upset me. Can I go now?”
He moved closer, so that her back was pressed against a rack of sweaters. “How’ve you been?” he asked, ignoring her question.
Her eyes flashed again. “I’ve been just fine.”
Not deterred by her less-than-enthusiastic tone, he went on. “I heard you mention you’re a designer.”