Harper resisted the sexual vortex pulling her in, reminded herself of how many ladies his lips had charmed, and suggested, “Why don’t you ask Baby? She may have seen it.”
“I’d rather find it with you.” The man didn’t even have the good manners to look embarrassed.
“Sorry. Busy.”
Adam didn’t look deterred—in fact, he looked determined—but he asked, “Is Baby around?”
“She doesn’t work here anymore,” Harper said, feeling a heavy dose of guilt push down on her. “She was let go.”
Adam’s smile fell and his face went slack. “I got her fired?”
“Baby got herself fired,” Harper said, because even though Adam didn’t help matters, she truly believed people were responsible for their own choices. And Baby chose to put her job in jeopardy. Not Adam. “She was using the shop for personal, uh, aspirations, and that goes against shop policy.”
“Baby might have invited me, but I said yes to the after-hours party,” he admitted, his voice laced with disappointment, surprising the hell out of Harper. “I didn’t think it through, and I willingly participated in the against-policy . . . aspirations. And now she’s fired.”
He sounded genuinely remorseful, appalled even—at himself—and that had to mean something. Maybe it was proof that under the life’s-one-big-pillow-fight attitude he had permanently tattooed to his forehead, Adam had a softer side. That his shallow interests in women were nothing more than a cover for hidden depths.
“It all worked out. My grandma wanted her back, but she’d already landed her dream job down the street,” Harper said gently, placing her hand on his to reassure him that he hadn’t single-handedly led Baby into a life of unemployment and debauchery.
Adam looked down at their hands, and suddenly the friendly gesture felt anything but. “Maybe I could get that private showing? Honeysuckle was the style, wasn’t it?”
“Are you kidding me?” Harper removed her hand and studied him long and hard to see if, in fact, he was. Nope, she acknowledged as he casually flipped his ball cap around and shrugged. He was dead serious.
“I never kid about lingerie.”
“Except you came here to find your jacket.” That he’d forgotten after getting his pre-party on. “Not tonight’s date.”
He also hadn’t really apologized. For putting her in a weird situation by sneaking into her grandma’s shop for an after-hours playdate with Baby. Or kissing Harper. Or not bothering to call the next day.
Not that it mattered. He’d come with one woman, kissed another, then left alone. Harper had gotten the impression he enjoyed the kiss, but she regretted it all the same.
Clay asking her to babysit Tommy had knocked her off balance, and she’d still been teetering when Adam found her. Otherwise she never would have allowed his flirtations to go that far.
“Problem is, I got distracted by a red dress,” he said, dropping his gaze again.
“That is a problem.” Because tomorrow he’d be distracted by a bartender in a short skirt, and his world would keep spinning. Thankfully, Harper suffered from severe motion sickness, so spinning wasn’t in her best interest. “Just not mine, since I’m not interested in being one of your many conquests.”
Adam’s eyes took a slow inventory of her summer collection, then the corners of his mouth lifted slightly and he shrugged. “Okay. I’ll be one of yours.”
Harper almost fluttered. Almost. Only right at the first sign of wings in her belly, he smiled, big and smug and so full of himself, and the flutter turned to irritation. “Whatever game you think we’re playing, I’m not interested.”
“Your dress says otherwise.”
“This dress isn’t for you,” she primly pointed out and wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Rule number three clearly stated to maintain direct eye contact—and she wasn’t about to let him win. “It’s for an important meeting, which you are keeping me from.”
“That may be, sunshine. But the hair? Slept-in bed waves, I believe we called it.” He reached out and fluffed it some. “That wasn’t for the meeting, and it’s a game changer. Well played.” His tone was a mix of surprise and respect. “Now, when you go back in there, make sure you’re a little breathless.” His thumb ran along her lower lip, smudging her lipstick, and she felt her pulse skyrocket. “Yeah, just like that.”
“Like what?” she heard herself whisper.
“Like you’re interested.”
A flash went off behind them, someone’s camera phone clicking away. Not that Adam seemed to care. With a wink that had her toes curling, he sauntered off toward the engine parked at the curb, his swagger proving rule number one: being comfortable in your own skin was the key to sexual allure. And Adam didn’t just feel comfortable, he owned it.
Harper stood in silence, her heart thudding against her sternum as she took in a deep breath. Then ten more to be sure she didn’t look as if she were interested.
Which she so wasn’t.