He winked at her. He wasn’t sure why. He only knew that there was a whole lot more to Taffeta Brown than she revealed to her customers. She glared up at him just long enough to allow him a close study of her face. She did indeed have the bone structure to be a total knockout if she wore a touch of makeup and did something pretty with her hair. Hell, even without cosmetics, she looked damned good. He smiled.
“You intrigue me, Taffeta Brown.” He hoped for a reciprocal grin. What he got instead was a quick flash of what he was willing to swear was alarm. What the hell? Was the woman leery of men?
“There’s nothing intriguing about me,” she snapped. “What you see is what you get.”
Not even close, lady. Barney had glimpsed enough of her from the neck down last night to know for dead certain what that baggy outfit concealed. He felt like a kid tempted to snatch goodies from the cookie jar. This time using both hands.
She spun away, stopping to straighten merchandise on the white shelving as she returned to the checkout stand. Each time she bent over, Barney’s attention centered on her upturned posterior. What the Sam Hill had gotten into him? Normally he didn’t ogle women. Well, he looked sometimes, but he tried never to stare.
“Have a great morning,” he called over his shoulder as he left the shop. “And stay warm. The weather report predicts more snow.”
Out on the icy sidewalk, Barney took a deep breath of the crisp air. I don’t mess with local women, he reminded himself. But even as the warning slithered through his brain, a little voice of temptation whispered that Taffeta Brown had no relatives living in town. That made her someone he could date without worrying about complications.
Or did it? As Barney cut across the street toward his blue Dodge Ram, he had a nagging feeling that Ms. Brown might be one of the most dangerous ladies he’d ever come across. Something about her got to him in a way that few women ever had. He wanted to get to know her better. Hell, who am I kidding? What he’d really like was to be in her apartment when she was dancing. He recalled the song playing on her stereo, “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” He’d jump at the chance to give her some.
• • •
Damn that man. An hour after Barney Sterling left her shop, Taffeta still felt so distracted that she’d shelved a carton of gummy vitamin supplements with the protein powder. As she was angrily moving the vitamins, the door opened and a woman entered, carrying a dark-haired little girl on her hip. A rush of icy air accompanied her arrival. Looking at the child made Taffeta’s heart pang, for she greatly resembled her daughter, Sarah.
“Good morning,” Taffeta called. She straightened from her task. “May I help you?”
“Oh, I hope so,” the woman said with a roll of her green eyes. “Leg pain.” She jostled the girl, who looked about four. “It was horrid. She cried half the night, and I couldn’t make the cramps stop.”
Sarah had suffered with leg cramps after she turned three. “Growing pains,” Taffeta replied. “Lots of kids between three and twelve get them. A recent study revealed that a large percentage of children who get leg pain at night are deficient in vitamin D.”
“Really? I had no idea. How would you suggest I increase her vitamin D levels?”
“The natural way, exposing the skin to safe amounts of sunlight, is always best.” Taffeta pointed toward the window. “But at this time of year, that can be challenging. It’s too cold to bare very much skin.”
A flash of Barney’s burnished face shot through her mind. He definitely didn’t have a vitamin D deficiency. His left cheek creased when he smiled, making her wonder if he’d once had a dimple that deepened over time from sun exposure. She forced her attention back to her customer. “My first recommendation would be that you take your daughter to a pediatrician and get her checked over. If she’s vitamin D deficient, the doctor can advise you on how many IUs of vitamin D to give her each day, and he can do follow-ups to be sure her levels don’t get too high.”
“Can it build up in her system, or something?” the woman asked.
“Yes, so throwing supplements at her could cause vitamin D toxicity. The safest thing is seeing a doctor.”
Pushing a wisp of coppery hair from her cheek, the woman glanced at her child. “I’m wary of supplements.”
Taffeta knew about feeling wary. Right now she felt wary of a certain deputy. “You intrigue me, Taffeta Brown.” She didn’t want any man to be intrigued by her, especially not someone involved with law enforcement. She hoped he never came into her store again. When he smiled, flashing those strong white teeth, her knees went weak and her brain went on vacation.
Forget about him. She had a customer to deal with. “It’s good to be cautious with supplements. Toxicity can be dangerous, but so can a deficiency. As parents, we need to know what we’re doing before we throw vitamins at a problem. If you can afford to take your daughter in to be checked, that’s the wisest course of action.”
“I can afford it. I just had no idea the leg pain might be caused by a vitamin D deficiency. I hoped you might have something over-the-counter for muscle cramps.” The redhead rolled her eyes again. “I don’t know if I can survive another night of her screaming, and heaven only knows how soon a doctor can see her.”
“Does she like dill pickles?” Taffeta asked.
“She loves them.”
“Well, until you can get her in to see a pediatrician, give her a dill pickle at bedtime. If she gets cramps during the night, give her another one. The white vinegar in the pickling brine often helps ease leg cramps, and in small doses like that, it should be safe.”
After the mother and child left, the shop went quiet. Taffeta could only shake her head because she’d talked herself out of another sale. Oh well. She felt obligated to give her customers the very best advice she could.
By this time of morning, Taffeta was usually busy. She suspected the lack of customers was due to icy streets and sidewalks. Just what she needed, a lull in business. It gave her too much time to think.
She threw herself into the task of cleaning shelves and merchandise, but even when she started to break a sweat, she still couldn’t evict thoughts of Barney Sterling from her mind. One look from him had made her skin tingle from head to toe. She wondered how it would feel if he kissed her—or touched her. Where did that thought come from? Irked with herself, she rearranged her display window, refusing to let herself watch the East Main traffic for a white truck with COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT emblazoned on the side. Then she caught herself freezing in midmotion when a white vehicle turned the corner.
Mary Alice Thomas burst into the shop just then, stomping her fur-lined snow boots on the entry mat. “Brrr, it’s brutal out there today.”
Taffeta always enjoyed this woman’s visits. Most people in town called her Ma, which Mary Alice claimed was due to the beginning letters of her first and middle names, but Taffeta suspected it was because the older woman seemed so motherly and sweet. A little on the plump side, she had perfectly coiffed gray hair and looked darling in a bright red wool jacket over slate gray slacks. Her wide smile creased both cheeks, which were apple pink from the cold, and her eyes twinkled with a zest for life.
“Trust me to go shopping on a day like this!” She drew off suede gloves that matched her footwear and tucked them in a pocket. “I had no choice, though. When you run out of things, you’re out and have to get more.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” Taffeta assured her. “Your special vitamins came in yesterday afternoon. I intended to call you in a few minutes.” Liar, liar. Taffeta had completely forgotten. “I got sidetracked rearranging my display.” You got sidetracked by lusting after a dangerously handsome deputy. “Just a sec, and I’ll get them for you.”
Mary Alice chattered as merrily as a bird greeting the new day as Taffeta ran her credit card. She owned Simply Sensational and Beyond, and a potpourri of perfumed scents emanated from her clothin
g. Taffeta was left feeling lonely when the woman departed. Ma Thomas filled a room with warmth.
The rest of the day dragged by. Taffeta spent hours removing merchandise from shelves to give them a good scrub. When she glanced at the clock and saw that it was only a half hour until closing time, she sighed with relief. She’d managed to twiddle her way through one of the deadest days since she’d opened her business. Exactly five customers had come in, if she didn’t count the deputy, who hadn’t bought anything anyhow.
Well, at least the lack of customers meant she could get an early jump on her closing routine. It was unlikely that she’d get any more business. This beastly weather had people diving for cover. Luckily for her, she lived over her shop and didn’t have to face the icy roads and treacherous driving conditions. Taffeta stepped behind the counter to count down her till.
As she opened the cash drawer and lifted out the tray, she glimpsed a flash of khaki tan outside the window. Barney? Her fingers lost their grip on the metal. The till plummeted to the floor. Coins exploded in all directions. Taffeta bit back a swearword. A second glance at the dismal street revealed that there was no deputy in a khaki uniform on the sidewalk outside of her shop. Thank heaven for small miracles. All she needed was to be caught crawling around on the floor to recover money from a dropped till.
What is wrong with me? she wondered, grabbing two bills that had landed beside the wastebasket. I’m behaving like a dimwit. What is it about that man? Had she learned nothing from her marriage to Phillip? Instant attraction was just another term for chemistry, and it fizzled out quickly. She couldn’t allow herself to feel this way about anyone, especially not a lawman.
Deputy Barney Sterling had access to information that most people didn’t. If he got curious enough, he could run a background check on her. Taffeta shivered. If word got out about who she was and what she’d been accused of doing, she’d probably have to leave town. All her efforts to build a life here for herself, and hopefully someday for Sarah, would be down the drain.
She was happy in Mystic Creek. Well, as happy as she’d ever be without her daughter, anyway. I’m just lonely. She hadn’t had sex in—God, she couldn’t remember the last time Phillip had turned toward her in bed for a quickie that had left her staring at the ceiling, wanting to feel what she’d heard other women did, yet relieved that it was over. Phillip. Anger burned through Taffeta. She pitied his second wife, Melanie, a buxom blonde who dressed like a hooker. No woman deserved to be nothing more than an ornament on a man’s arm, not even a bimbo.
Taffeta slumped back on her heels to stare at nothing. She would never be so stupid with men again. The next time she fell for a guy, if she ever did, she’d be sure he was as stable as a pillar set in concrete. But for now she had other important goals: building her business, getting some more education under her belt, and making a life for herself and her daughter. She could fantasize about Barney Sterling all she liked at night when darkness blanketed the town and held reality at bay. But during business hours, she would be a rational, mature, and responsible woman who understood that her reaction to the lawman was caused by nothing more than physical need, overactive hormones, and loneliness. Fantasizing was safe. Involvement wasn’t.
Her till was four dollars and sixty-four cents off even though she’d picked up every coin she saw. She released a weary sigh as she locked the shop door and flipped over the CLOSED sign. A long, hot bath sounded fabulous. Then she’d have soup and half a sandwich for dinner while she watched a program on her boxy old television. No foolish dreams for her tonight, and definitely no dancing, not until her new blind arrived. She couldn’t afford to attract attention. Once was enough.
• • •
The next morning, Taffeta got up early. It was stock-ordering day, and if she wanted to be focused on that, she needed to get it done before the shop got busy. Normally things were fairly quiet until midmorning.
Taffeta yawned as she fired up the store computer to get on the Internet. She’d tossed and turned nearly half the night, and had once even gotten up to prowl the darkened rooms. She refused to acknowledge, even to herself, about whom she’d been thinking as sleep eluded her.
As if her thoughts conjured him up, Barney Sterling opened the front door, juggling two capped cups that bore the Jake ’n’ Bake logo. He balanced the cardboard carrying tray on the palm of one hand, holding the door back with his opposite elbow to make it over the threshold without jostling the drinks.
“Good morning! I bring coffee!” he announced.
With an attractive shift of his slender hips, he strode to the counter. She tried not to notice the length of his strong legs or the easy way he moved. His boots made sharp raps on the planked wooden floor. Taffeta felt sure she could close her eyes and still tell that the footsteps belonged to a man. What, she wondered, do I find so sexy about that?
He set the tray on her counter and rested his folded arms on the edge. His dark brown jacket had a thick lining that added breadth to his already impressive shoulders. With a nudge of one knuckle, he indicated which cup was hers.
“I wasn’t sure how you like yours, so I went for French vanilla, a shot of caramel, and lots of sugar.” He curled the long, sturdy fingers of his right hand around the other cup. His amber-flecked gaze settled on her face. “You look tired. Have a sip. It’ll perk you up.”
It miffed her that he’d somehow guessed how she loved her coffee. She didn’t often indulge herself with creamers and sugar because she didn’t need the extra calories. She decided to make an exception this morning, though, not because she yearned for caffeine, but because opening the cup would give her something to do with her hands. No fidgeting allowed.
He pushed up the brim of his Stetson and treated her to one of those devastating crooked grins. When that crease appeared in his lean cheek, every rational thought in her head leaked out her ears. She pried the lid from the cup, hoping her fingers wouldn’t tremble. Why is he here? What does he want? She glanced up at his burnished features. A friendly twinkle danced in his eyes, and she felt sure that if he knew what she had supposedly done, he’d be grim-faced and glaring at her. And he wouldn’t be here with coffee in the first place.
She hadn’t been born yesterday, and when a man came sniffing around, it normally indicated that he was interested in a woman. She assumed that he had found her attractive when he caught her dancing, and he was back again to check her out a bit more. God help her, knowing that made her pulse quicken. It also scared the crap out of her because he was a law enforcement official.
Feeling off balance, she groped for something to say. “Thank you for the coffee.” That was brilliant. She took a careful sip because heat swirled up from the toffee-brown liquid. “Mm. Just the way I like it.”
Still bent at the waist, he shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other. “Tell me something, Taffeta Brown. Do you enjoy reading?”
Taffeta blinked. She had no idea where that had come from, but she didn’t want to piss him off by refusing to answer. “As a matter of fact, I do.” She didn’t ask whether he did. She didn’t want to encourage the man. He was already as bold as brass.
His mouth curved slowly into a grin. “What are your favorite novels of all time?” He took a sip of coffee and whistled away the burn. “I’ve reread To Kill a Mockingbird and The Catcher in the Rye so many times I’ve lost count.”
Those two titles ranked at the top of her favorites list. So far as Taffeta knew, her ex-husband, Phillip, had never read a single book from cover to cover. “Every time I read To Kill a Mockingbird, I’m captivated all over again by the characters.”
“Who is your favorite?”
“Scout,” she replied without hesitation. “I can totally associate with her.”
“Ah, a tomboy, were you?”
Without weighing her words, Taffeta said, “A very angry and resentful tomboy.”
Why had she told him
that? Her childhood was not up for scrutiny. Her memories were too painful to share with a man she barely knew.
As if he sensed that she regretted speaking so honestly, he said, “I liked all the characters, but I found Boo to be most intriguing. An air of mystery always captures my interest.”
Yesterday, he’d told her that he found her intriguing. Was that because he thought she was mysterious? Careful, Taffeta. He had a talent for prying information out of her, and that made him treacherous. She lifted her cup, forgot that the coffee was steaming hot, and burned her lips when she took a quick sip. Ouch.
Mouth still stinging, she asked, “Where do you like to read?”
He turned his cup with a deft twist of his fingers. “Mostly in my recliner by the fire. The flames give me something to stare at while I try to picture a scene in my mind. For me, reading is like watching a film, only I have to work harder to see everything. Scout in a ham costume. Jem breaking his arm when Bob Ewell attacks them on their way home. I could almost feel the chicken wire in Scout’s ham outfit prickling my skin when Ewell grabbed her. And I wanted to see more of Boo coming to their rescue, but Scout’s vision was partly blocked.” He had a distant expression in his eyes, but then he came back to the moment and smiled sheepishly at her. “Sorry. I tend to get carried away. Where do you like to read?”
Again, he lured her into blurting out the truth without thinking. “In the bathtub. For me, nothing quite compares to a long soak in a hot bath with a fabulous book in my hands.”
He grinned, and she felt herself redden. What had made her say that? He was probably picturing her naked in water up to her breastbone. She wanted to zip her mouth shut. The sooner she got him out of here, the better.
“How do you pull that off without getting the pages wet when you turn them?”
“I’m very careful.”
He chuckled. “Does the air turn blue if you lose your grip and drop a book in the water?”