Chapter One
“Is something wrong, Miss?”
Rachel Foster stared at the red-faced teenage boy standing in front of her and wondered, given the situation, how he could possibly ask her that question.
Was something wrong?
What was his first clue? The fact that she was half-naked? Or maybe it was the way she’d run up to him, whispering “help me!” The kid was a real Sherlock Holmes, only with a lot more acne.
“Yes, something is wrong,” she hissed, trying very hard not to raise her voice. “I got locked out of the fitting room. And I would appreciate it if you’d—and I’m begging here—open the door so I could get my clothes.”
Wild hand gestures accompanied her frantic words. Her assistant often teased her about those gestures, and Rachel realized moving her hands maybe wasn’t the smartest choice right now. Especially when any slight shifting made her breasts spill over the lace cups of the minuscule bra.
“Well.” The boy’s voice cracked and Rachel wished he would wipe that dazed look off his face. “What were you doing in the men’s fitting room in the first place?”
Huh. Wasn’t that a good question? She’d thought she was saving time, since the women’s fitting room had a line as long as the Nile, but in retrospect, stealing over to the men’s department of Walton’s had been a bad, bad idea.
Rachel had suffered humiliation before, mostly back in high school, when she’d endured constant teasing and taunting about her home situation, but this topped the humiliation meter. Wearing nothing but a bra and dental-floss thong, standing smack in the middle of Men’s Sleep Wear had to qualify as a whopping ten.
“What else do you do in a fitting room?” She attempted to cover herself by crossing her arms and leaning her almost-bare bottom against a rack of silk pajamas. “I was trying something on.”
The boy’s face deepened to a dark shade of crimson as he sheepishly glanced at exactly what she’d been trying on. “But this fitting room is for—”
“Men?” she finished. “I’m well aware of that.”
“Then why—?”
“Please,” she cut in, “will you just help me out?”
God, why couldn’t this kid stop asking so many questions and just unlock the door so she could get her clothes? She cast a longing look in the direction of the doorway leading into the fitting room then cursed the mirror that had brought her into the open. All she’d wanted was a full-length shot of her lingerie, but the mirror only offered a torso view. She got a kick out of visiting stores and trying on her own designs. She’d created them, after all, so didn’t she deserve a better glimpse? She’d left the cramped dressing space, hoping to find a bigger mirror in the hallway. When she hadn’t seen one, she’d ventured just a little farther out, only to return to the fitting area and find the door locked.
“Look—” she peered at the boy’s nametag, “—Chris. All this small talk is fascinating, it really is, but could you please let me into the room?”
Chris cleared his throat awkwardly. “I don’t have a key. I’ll have to get the manager.”
Oh, Lord. Could this day get any worse?
Rachel raked her fingers through her shoulder-length hair and stifled an exasperated sigh. “All right. Go get him then. And hurry.”
Chris turned around and began weaving his way through the racks, leaving Rachel to twiddle her thumbs as she waited.
“Oh!”
She swiveled her head just in time to see a forty-something, heavyset man stop in his tracks and stare at her with wide eyes. The items in his hands fell to the floor as his gaze glued to her lingerie-clad body, then with a loud cough, he bent down to retrieve the socks and ties he’d dropped. With one last—and stunned—look, he stumbled away. She cast a longing look at the display of robes about ten yards away. She supposed she could make a run for it, but the racks were right next to the main cashier counter, and much farther than she was willing to go. It was one thing to provide a peep show to the sales guy and a random customer, she wasn’t about to put on a show for the entire store.
A wave of hysterical laughter bubbled at the back of her throat. God, this was…she didn’t even know how to describe this situation.
“You look like you need some help,” a male voice remarked.
Whatever laughter was left in her throat hardened into a lump of pure ice. Familiarity swarmed her body as she shifted around and saw the owner of that husky voice. Travis Gage.
The right adjective for her predicament fluttered into her brain as her gaze locked with Travis’s whiskey-colored eyes. Hell.
Of all the people she could have run into at this very moment, why Travis Gage? Why someone from her old high school? Why the one person she’d never wanted to lay eyes on again?
Bitterness surged through her veins as she took in the sight of him. He hadn’t changed much since high school. Still had a head of dark hair, a chiseled face and deep dimples, and of course, those intense honey-brown eyes. And yet there was something different about him. Maybe the way his hair was no longer unruly, but cut short and perfectly combed, not a strand out of place. Or maybe it was the black sports coat he wore, how it stretched across his broad shoulders and emphasized his powerful chest. Made him appear professional and dangerous at the same time.
He looked good. Too good. God, what gave him the right to look this good?
“I don’t need any help,” she replied, her voice as frigid as her body felt.
“Really? Do you make it a habit of frequenting department stores in that attire?” His mouth curved into a whisper of a smile that looked smug and arrogant.
Her nostrils flared at the cocky tone of his voice. Although she hadn’t seen him in nearly fifteen years, she decided he was still the same self-absorbed jerk he’d been back in high school.
Fighting the urge to squirm, she noticed his hawk-like gaze sweep over her exposed body. Not only did that evoke a thoroughly unwelcome reaction—like the hardening of her nipples—but it sparked a flicker of irritation. Why was he acting as if he didn’t know who she was? He had to know, especially since she hadn’t changed much since high school either. Her hair was still the same dark shade of blonde, her eyes the same shade of green. The only difference was that instead of wearing the baggy clothing she’d made her trademark in school, she now stood practically naked.
“Actually, I do wear this when I shop,” she said coolly. “So if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to, uh, browsing.”
Rachel turned around and made a show of examining one of the racks. She grabbed a handful of random items, and it wasn’t until she looked down that she saw she’d piled her hands with boxes of men’s briefs.
Heat scorched her cheeks as she heard his low chuckle.
“Briefs, huh? And here I thought you preferred thongs.”
Her face grew redder as she spun around with the realization that she’d just provided Travis Gage with a very candid view of her bare ass. The amusement glimmering in his mesmerizing eyes didn’t soothe her. She wanted to strangle him. Didn’t the man realize she wanted him to get lost?
“Would you just go away, Travis?” She tightened her jaw. “I came here to shop, not to be made fun of.”
His eyes narrowed at the sound of his name. “Do we know each other?”
Rachel almost laughed aloud. This was priceless. They’d gone to school together for four years, he’d dated her sister, for God’s sake. It was funny how a person could have such a huge impact on your life and not even realize it. Travis had broken her sister’s heart, and Carrie had ended up taking her own life because of it.
And he wanted to know if they knew each other?
Her voice was thick with pain as she responded. “I have two words for you. Carrie Foster.”
The long and heavy silence that followed gave her the opportunity to watch his handsome face fill with uneasy recognition. “Rachel,” he finally said, his voice rough.
“Yes.”
“I heard about what happened to Carrie. I’m sorry.” His expressionless gaze revealed nothing.
In an instant, Rachel forgot that she was in her underwear, that she was the headlining act in this awful department store show. How dare he say Carrie’s name in such an unfeeling, indifferent tone?
Her hands trembling, she allowed the images of her older sister to flash through her mind. Carrie’s soft smile. Her laughter. Her heart. Carrie had always taken the burden of their mother’s actions on herself. When all the other kids had mocked them about their mother’s promiscuity, about the men, the alcohol, Carrie had protected her younger sister. Until her own boyfriend had contributed to the cruelty. That’s when Carrie finally had enough.
Feeling her eyes well up with tears, Rachel gulped a few times. She wasn’t going to cry. Not now. Not in front of Travis Gage.
“Come on, Miss, I’ll let you back into the fitting room.”
The sales boy’s voice caused relief to flood her body in one crashing wave. Without glancing at Travis, Rachel followed the boy across the room, spine stiff, steps calm and methodical. She didn’t once look back at the man she knew was watching her walk away.
Travis released a ragged breath as he watched Rachel disappear into the hallway, her firm behind swaying with each step she took. Desire and regret mingled in the pit of his stomach.
Rachel Foster.
Damn it, how hadn’t he recognized her? Her image had haunted him for years, for chrissake. It wasn’t until after college that he’d finally been able to sleep through the night without waking up and thinking about her.
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.”
“Yes.” She exhaled sharply. “Travis, please move. I need to go.”
She tried to move past him, but he closed her in. When he lowered his gaze, he saw a twinge of fright on her face. An inexplicable pang of guilt tugged at his gut as he realized he’d trapped her against the rack like a cornered rat. Christ, he knew he had the tendency to be demanding, but he was no tyrant.
He took a step back, but it happened to be at the precise moment a passing shopper tried to squeeze through the already narrow aisle. The man bumped into Travis’s back, causing him to stumble right into Rachel.
Her mouth widened in a deep O as he fell against her, and within seconds, Travis, Rachel and the rack of sweaters tumbled to the tiled floor.
His body was slamming over hers before he could even attempt to prevent the fall. Though, he wasn’t really complaining about the current position they found themselves in. The feel of Rachel’s lithe body beneath his caused every part of him to harden. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her stomach right against his groin, and their legs had tangled on their way down to the hard ground.
All the breath drained from his body as he met her gaze. She looked stunned. But more than that, he thought he saw a flicker of desire in her eyes. Everything around them—the array of clothing and shoppers and the sales clerk who had rushed over—all hissed and crackled and then disappeared. All he saw, all he felt, was the woman under him.
He let his eyes roam h
er face, absorbing the splash of freckles at the bridge of her dainty nose, the long sooty eyelashes fluttering over her eyes, the soft pout of her lips. Her lips. Fuck, he wanted to kiss her.
“Get. Off. Me.”
The menace he heard in her voice snapped him out of his sensual thoughts. Feeling her bucking beneath him, he slowly raised himself up and extended his hand. Ignoring his offer of help, she jumped to her feet and brushed dark-blonde strands of hair out of her face.
“You okay?” he asked sharply, slightly disturbed by his overwhelming reaction to her.
Ignoring him, she reached down and tried to lift the rack that had fallen over.
“Let me do that,” he said.
She stopped, only to shoot him a dirty look. “I can do it myself.”
He gritted his teeth. Of course, she had to be one of those stubborn women who refused to accept a man’s assistance. “No. I’ll do it.” He grasped her by the waist and forcibly moved her aside, then lifted the rack himself. As he began picking up discarded sweaters, she pinned him with a glare.
“Goodbye, Travis.”
Before she could move, his hand shot out to grasp her arm. “Damn it, Rachel, why are you behaving like a child?” He heard the harsh tone of his voice and softened it. “Look, why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee and we can catch up?”
The second he said the words, her cheeks flushed and her jaw tightened. “I don’t want to catch up,” she said in an ominous tone. “I don’t want a cup of coffee. All I want is to walk out of this department store.” She exhaled shakily. “It’s wonderful you’re sorry about what happened to my sister, I’ll be sure to keep your sympathy very close to my heart.” She paused. “That was sarcasm, if you didn’t pick up on it.”
“Rachel—”
“Travis, just go away.” She sucked in her breath. “I don’t want to catch up with you. In fact, you’d be the last person I’d want to reminisce with, okay? So just pretend we never saw each other today. Because that’s sure as hell what I’m going to do.”
Feeling like he’d just been whacked in the chest with a sledgehammer, all Travis could do was watch her stalk away.