Love and Lingerie (Rockland Falls Book 2) Read online

  My entire body goes rigid, my jaw ready to drop open, but since it’s already hanging open, that doesn’t take much effort. I whip around and come face-to-face with the boy—or man—who made my life hell back in high school. He’s leaning against the counter, all casual and cocky like, as if he owns the joint. But it’s the stupid, wicked smirk that makes my heart start to pound in my chest. I simultaneously love and hate that fucking smirk.

  Latham Douglas.

  “Satan,” I say through a mouthful of muffin. Or at least I try to say it. I’m not sure if he understood a word I said, though. The vindication only lasts a second.

  “Still shoving things in your mouth, I see,” he says, making my cheeks slightly blush. I hate him.

  “Still the biggest asshole around, I see,” I finally retort when I swallow the food in my mouth.

  “And to think I was being a gentleman and bringing you lunch,” he says, making me snort in disbelief. “I guess if you don’t want this chicken salad on wheat my mom made, I can just throw it in the trash,” he adds, leaning his massive body over the counter in search for a trashcan.

  “Don’t you dare,” I practically growl, narrowing my eyes into little slits of death. In one quick motion, I dive for the bag, barely getting my hands on it before he pulls it out of my grasp and holds it above his head.

  “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

  Again, I snort – in a total ladylike way, mind you. “Friend? I don’t usually want my friends to fall off a bridge into shark-infested waters while wearing nothing but lead-filled shoes, covered in ribeyes.”

  He throws his hip against the counter and leans on his elbow. “So you’ve thought about me naked, I see.”

  “I’m still plagued with nightmares.”

  Latham laughs, a deep, sultry sound that does something to my body I try to ignore, but it’s hard to try to kill him with your eyes when your panties are getting wet and your nipples are starting to throb. “You haven’t changed a bit, Harper,” he says, looking around the store for the first time. I watch as he pushes off the counter, thankfully leaving the sandwich and fresh mocha on the counter as he goes.

  Unfortunately, it’s not the door he’s heading toward. It’s my red lace thong and matching bra set that’s displayed perfectly on a tabletop mannequin. “This is nice,” he says, reaching up and rubbing his hand down the plastic ass.

  I stomp around the counter, sandwich and coffee completely forgotten, and smack his hand. “Quit fondling my mannequin.”

  As I right the panties, making sure they’re displayed impeccably, I feel his eyes burning into me. When I glance his way, they’re raking over my body, devouring me with the easiest of glances. Of course, my body starts to heat to volcanic devastation level and I find it hard to do my job with steady hands.

  Hard.

  Yep, my brain went there.

  So do my eyes.

  They immediately drop to his groin, drinking in the impressive bulge in the front of his fairly tight, flawlessly fitting blue jeans. Dammit, why must they fit him so perfectly? He clears his throat, and my eyes fly up to his. Those stupid brown eyes are as smooth and rich as milk chocolate. “See something you like?” he smirks.

  “No. I see something I despise,” I retort, turning my back on him and heading to the counter. That sandwich is calling me.

  Latham doesn’t take the hint and follows me, returning to his casual stance. I ignore his presence, unwrapping the homemade sandwich and taking a massive bite. “Hungry?” he asks, watching as I eat, eyes alive with mischief.

  “Starving,” I reply, making sure to talk with my mouth full.

  He leans in close, maintaining eye contact, and whispers, “Have I ever told you watching someone eat a sandwich like it’s their last meal on death row is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen?”

  I almost choke. It’s painful to swallow. “I hate you,” I grumble when I can finally move air through my throat.

  “Feeling’s mutual, Sweetheart,” he chastises, rearranging the sample packets I had just displayed mere hours ago.

  “What are you doing here, anyway? In the market for a new lace thong?” I ask, taking a much smaller, more ladylike bite of my sandwich.

  “Guilty. My other one is starting to show some age. I’ve had it for…years.” Something in the way he says it causes my eyes to meet his. I wish I wouldn’t have. They’re all-knowing and smug, and I… I…hate him!

  Leaning forward, I whisper, “I want those back.”

  “Never. Those are my favorite pair.”

  I gasp, flush a totally unflattering shade of red, and stare across the counter at the Devil himself. I can’t believe he went there. He just had to talk about that one time…

  “Anyway, as much as I’d love to stand here and chat about the old days, I have work to do,” he says, pushing off the counter and coming around like he owns the joint. I don’t move, which means he has to slide between me and the countertop, our bodies practically touching, our eyes locked on each other’s.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, trying to find the words and hating how much he affects me.

  “Working. Dad said you have computer troubles,” he says as he turns and grabs my tower.

  “What? You’re the new guy?”

  He doesn’t even glance my way, just pulls out a small screwdriver from his pocket and starts to take apart my machine. “That’s me.”

  “But…but, what do you know about computers? For all I know you’re about to sabotage my entire operation!”

  He looks my way, continuing to unscrew the first of several. “Sabotage your panties and bras?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing together and the corner of his plump lips turning skyward.

  “Well, my inventory and accounting system,” I respond, uncrossing my arms over my chest and reaching for the tower. “Give me that. You probably have no idea what you’re doing.”

  Latham turns his back and blocks my movements. “I’ll have you know I was in communications when I was in the Army. My job was to set up intel and comms in some of the worst parts of the world, Sweetheart. I can fix anything. Your little computer filled with panty prices and shipping orders isn’t going to be too hard.”

  I stand up straight. I knew he was in the Army, but his dad rarely talked about it. Even though he was proud of his son, it was hard for him to discuss the fact he was always away in some foreign country and rarely came home.

  When I don’t say anything, he stops what he’s doing and turns my way. “You gonna let me do this or not?”

  Not wanting to give in too easily, I wait several seconds before replying. “Fine. For your dad.”

  Latham gazes up at me, his eyes locked on mine. “Fine. I’ll be done in a few minutes. I’m pretty sure your hard drive is fried anyway.”

  Great.

  That’s just par for the course on this lovely Saturday. And to think it’s just past noon…

  Chapter Two

  Latham

  I can smell her.

  Her sweet, succulent scent drifts over to where I crouch on the floor, teasing me with its toxic fumes and sassy disposition. Okay, so maybe not quite that dramatic, but the woman is still as maddening as ever. I’ve never craved taking a woman over my knee as badly as I do with her. And now I’m adjusting my tight pants. Stupid dick recognized her immediately, even if it had only one little taste so many years ago.

  Harper leaves me working on her computer, heading off to do whatever it is she does in this place. As soon as I stepped inside, all I could picture was that very woman wearing every piece of material she stocks. Fiery red to match her personality, seductive blacks, and innocent whites. Every single piece, I want to see displayed on her perfect body.

  Age has only enhanced the beauty of Harper Grayson. She was always the most beautiful girl in school, but thirty-two-year-old Harper? She’s a fucking boner-inducing knockout. Long red hair I’d love to wrap my hands around and those fuck-me blue eyes. She’s the perfect combination of sin
and sexy.

  Jesus, listen to me.

  Drooling over the woman who’d rather feed you to sharks than spend five minutes catching up with you after more than a decade. I’d say it’s definitely time to get laid. Entirely on their own, my eyes turn and catch her just off to the right, reorganizing what looks like a black leather bustier and garter belt.

  My boner has a boner.

  I turn back to the job at hand, wishing I had something else in my hand right now. Her ass, maybe. Definitely my cock. Even though I’d rather find someone else to take care of this little problem I seem to have, I’m pretty sure I’ll be jerking off in the shower later tonight, only with images of the sexy lingerie shop owner next door keeping me company.

  When I try to power up her computer, the hard drive does nothing. In fact, if I listen closely, there’s the lightly knocking noise coming from the unit. That tells me one thing: it’s deader than hell. I put it back in its place and recover the side, leaving the screws off. “I have bad news,” I holler, catching her attention and bringing her back to where I squat. “Your hard drive is definitely done. You can replace it, but it’s almost just as easy to purchase a new tower.”

  “Shit,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and worrying her bottom lip. My cock twitches.

  “This unit looks a few years old,” I say, standing up beside her.

  “I uh, I got it refurbished when I opened the store. The computer store assured me it would be good for a while.”

  “And it could have been. Refurbished units aren’t always bad. How long have you had it?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the countertop. I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to my arms, taking in the hard lines, detailed muscles, and hint of my tattoo.

  “Two years.”

  “Well, since you probably don’t know how long it was in use before it was reconditioned, I’d recommend a new unit then. I’ll pick one up when I go to Harriston later this afternoon. If you have a computer backup program, I can get you up and running by Monday.”

  She just stares at me. Her eyebrows are pinched together, and it looks as if she’s trying to piece together a puzzle. “Why?” she finally asks, skeptically.

  “Why? Why what?”

  “Why would you help me? You hate me.”

  False. I’ve never hated her.

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “You told me you did.”

  “You told me the same,” I remind her.

  “But…I do hate you,” she states, though the look in her eyes is all I need to know. She doesn’t hate me at all.

  “Then we can call a truce for the weekend. After I get you up and running, you can go right back to hating me.”

  She squints, yet the vivid blue in her eyes still shines brightly. Reaching out her hand, she extends it toward me. “Deal.”

  I take the offered hand, and reply, “Deal.” The moment her hand is held tightly within mine, an electric current zips through my body. Her touch is most definitely deadly.

  I don’t wait for her to say anything, just slide my screwdriver back into my pocket and turn toward the door. “Wait! Don’t you need money or something?” she asks, walking toward me.

  “You can pay me back when I know how much it is.”

  She nods, so I turn back to the door, pulling it halfway open before she stops me again. “Wait, how will you get a hold of me?”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I look her straight in the eye. “I know where to find you.” Then, I throw her a wink, because I know it drives her crazy (and not even the good crazy, like the kind that makes you want to lock up all your sharp knives) and head out the door, a little extra bounce in my step.

  I knew running into Harper Grayson was going to be entertaining, but I didn’t think I’d enjoy it this much.

  A smile breaks out across my face as I walk the short distance to my family’s hardware store. Pulling open the old, heavy door, whistling a happy little tune, I bypass the front counter and head down the hall to my dad’s office.

  “What has you in such a good mood?” he asks, a knowing smile on his own face.

  “Nothing, old man,” I reply, sitting down in the chair and putting my feet up on his desk just to aggravate him.

  Dad takes a swipe at my boots. “Next month you can put your filthy boots all over this desk, but until then, back off. It’s still mine.”

  I laugh, putting my feet down on the floor. “Tell Mom, Harper says thanks for the sandwich.”

  Dad wrinkles his eyebrows. “I don’t recall Mom making Harper a sandwich. I thought I brought that in for you.”

  I shrug. “You said she spilled her coffee, so I grabbed her a new one and dropped off my sandwich. When you said she works there by herself most days, I figured she might not have time to go out and grab lunch.”

  “Mmmhmm, that all that’s about?” Dad asks, his smile turning all-knowing.

  “That and I looked at her computer, since you already offered up my services. It’s fucked, by the way. I’ll pick her up a new one when I go to Harriston later to sign those papers.”

  Dad watches me, eventually nodding. I’m not sure what he sees in front of him and I don’t ask. Some things are better left unsaid. “Anyway, I’m going to head up front and start to transfer the inventory to the new system. Dale should still be able to use the old system while it’s importing into the new.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything,” Dad says, turning his attention back to the stack of papers in front of him.

  I make my way up to the front, ready to refamiliarize myself with the business I grew up in. When I was young, it was my grandpa who owned the hardware store, then eventually my dad. Now, it’s my turn. Dad plans to retire within the next month, which means I have mere weeks to learn everything I can about running a successful business. I have plans for it, some of which I’ve already run past him. That’s why I’m off to Harriston this afternoon. To get the ball rolling on the biggest project of them all.

  Purchase the small building between Harper’s store and ours.

  It’s perfect for the expansion I’ve been envisioning for Douglas Hardware since I got my papers to leave the Army, anticipating the return home. After fourteen years, I was finally saying goodbye to that part of my life, ready to step into this role at the helm of my family’s business. It’s a great space that’ll add just enough room for the extra inventory lines I’ve wanted to carry.

  Nothing’s going to stand in my way of making this place bigger and better.

  Nothing.

  * * *

  I knock on her door, some boy band shit filtering through the open front door. A dog starts to bark instantly, heavy pads scrape along hardwood floors. “Who’s here?” Harper asks her dog in one of those voices all women use to talk to babies and puppies.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she grumbles as she reaches the front door. She’s probably looking at me through her screen door, but I don’t notice. The only thing I notice is the way her tight white tank top molds to her voluptuous tits. “My eyes are up here,” she deadpans, crossing her arms over her chest to shield them from my eyes.

  Joke’s on her, though. She only pushes them up higher.

  “Eat him, Snuggles,” she says to the dog at her ankles.

  “But if your dog eats me, who will get your new computer up and running for you?” I ask, bringing the bag up and shaking it.

  Harper sighs, rolls her eyes, and opens the screen door. As soon as I step through the entryway, the owner of the deep bark jumps at me, excitedly, tongue hanging from his open mouth. “Down, Snuggles.”

  “Snuggles?” I ask, glancing her way as she closes the door behind me.

  She crosses her arms again defiantly; basically ensuring I’m going to have wet dreams about her and her magnificent tits later tonight. “So?”

  Glancing down at the dog, I pet his floppy head, drool streaming from his happy little face. “He’s awfully ugly to be a Snuggles.” Harper gasps. Snuggles whimper
s, as if he understood me.

  “You’re mean. I can’t believe you said that. Besides, Snuggles is a lady,” she baby-talks, bending down and giving her dog some love. The dog wags her butt before leaning forward and licking her owner’s face.

  “I can’t believe you named your dog Snuggles. She’s going to have a complex for the rest of her life,” I say, kneeling down and whistling for the dog to come. She does, letting me know even though she’s young, she’s trained.

  “Traitor,” Harper mumbles as she stands up and glares daggers down at me.

  “She’s definitely a pit bull, but what else? I can see a little something else mixed in,” I ask, keeping my eyes on the happy puppy while offering a scratch behind her ears.

  “Boxer.”

  “Look at you,” I mock in a singsong voice. “A face only a mother could love.” The dog doesn’t seem to mind the insult though. She just leans her head into my hand, ensuring I continue to scratch in all the right places.

  “Reminds me of you,” Harper says.

  “Oh, Harper, don’t be a spoilsport. You know you love me too.” Again, with the stupid baby voice that I didn’t even know I could make. Of course, on me, it just sounds like someone is squeezing the shit out of my balls.

  Speaking of balls…

  “No, Devil, that’s where you’re wrong. I hate you,” she says matter-of-factly.

  Standing up, I look down at the sassy, yet incredibly sexy woman. She’s tall for a female, about five ten, and has that perfect model frame. Not too skinny, like a beanpole, but with curves in all the right places. Actually, come to think of it, I think I recall my mom talking about a few modeling gigs she did back in the early days when I first enlisted. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, Sweetheart.”

  She stares at me, shoulders squared, and not backing down for a second, but doesn’t say anything for several long seconds. “So, about this computer. You have a new tower in that bag?” she asks, glancing down at the big bag on the floor.

  “I do not,” I answer, reaching for the bag and pulling the new laptop out. “I wasn’t impressed with their units, so I moved on to these.”