“Let’s take a little tour.”

Jill took Mitch’s hand and led him out into the darkened store. It was deserted. The doors were locked and the lights were dimmed. The intimacy of the store shot his pulse up. His gaze lingered on her sexy strut. She hadn’t done anything and already he could hardly stand the tension.

She paused in front of a tall bookcase filled with various bottles and jars and pulled him close to her, so that their thighs touched. Her perfume mingled with the spice and floral scents surrounding the display.

“Good sex is a feast for the senses,” she said, her voice hushed. “Men respond most strongly to the visual, so we have a number of items to enhance that visual experience. Costumes. Videos. Props.” A wave of her hand indicated the different displays, from the movies to an arrangement of body jewelry.

“There are the other senses, too. Smell. Taste. Touch,” she continued.

He had to touch her. Now. He slipped a hand behind her back trying to pull her to him, but she resisted. Was this to be a continuation of the demonstration she’d given when she’d handcuffed him to the display? His heart pounded in anticipation when she leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

“Take off your clothes, Mitch.”

Dear Reader,

Some characters are so much fun you never want to leave them. In this book, my first Harlequin Blaze novel, I’m delighted to revisit Jill Sheldon, whom I introduced in my November 2002 Temptation title #902, It’s a Guy Thing!

As soon as brash, fun-loving Jill stepped onto the pages of It’s a Guy Thing! I knew she was the perfect heroine for Blaze. And I think she’s found the perfect hero in Mitch Landry, a man of hidden passions who can capture Jill’s heart.

I had a lot of fun writing this story; I hope it’s fun for you, too. I love to hear from readers. You can e-mail me at CindiMyers1@aol.com, or write to me in care of Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada. And be sure to look for other exciting Blaze news at www.tryblaze.com.

Happy reading,

Cindi Myers

Just 4 Play
Cindi Myers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To my wonderful editor, Wanda Ottewell.

Thanks for all your encouragement and support.

And special thanks to Terri Clark, the title goddess.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

1

JILL SHELDON BELIEVED in Happy perfume, Miracle Bras and in not letting a day go by without having fun. So when she’d seen the Help Wanted sign in the window of Just 4 Play, she’d known that was the job for her. What could be more fun than working in a toy shop?

Okay, so Just 4 Play sold sex toys and lingerie. People needed more fun in their sex lives too, didn’t they? In the six months since she’d joined the staff at Just 4 Play, Jill had had plenty of good times, on the job, and off. After all, life was too short not to have fun.

“Should the musical condoms go with the other condoms or in the novelty section?” she asked as she and her co-worker, Sid Crawford, unpacked the latest shipment of merchandise one Wednesday afternoon.

Sid frowned, his eyebrow ring shifting toward his nose. “With the novelties, I think. And rearrange the display so it looks really full. This might be the last shipment we get for a while.”

“Why is that?” She squeezed a condom package and grinned as a tinny rendition of “Bolero” filled the air.

“It’ll take a while to get all the accounts shifted over to the new owner’s name.”

She set the condoms next to a box of edible underwear. Maybe she’d shelve them with the massage oil and bill the set as a total sensual experience. “I’m going to miss old Grif.” She sighed, and paused for a moment in memory of the late Griffeth Landry, former proprietor of Just 4 Play. He’d died suddenly last month when he was struck by lightning while playing golf. All his gold fillings had melted, welding his mouth shut, a final irony for a man who had a mouth every bit as big as his heart.

“Yeah, Grif was cool.” Sid nodded, his pink Mohawk swaying with the movement.

“So what’s his nephew like?” Jill asked.

Sid shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t met him.”

“Oh come on. You must know something. What’s his name?”

“His name’s Mitchell Landry, but that’s all I know.”

She set aside a bottle of bubble bath and came over to lean on a tower of boxes next to Sid. “Where’s he from? Does he live here in Boulder?”

“Don’t know.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“I have no idea.”

“How old is he?”

Sid held his hands up in front of his face to ward off this barrage of questions. “I swear, I don’t know anything about him. Honest.” He slit open another carton. “You sure are nosy.”

“I like to know things. Haven’t you ever heard knowledge is power?”

“Right. When have you ever been powerless?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Never. And I don’t intend to be. Ever.”

“Guess you’re going to have to stay in the dark until Mr. Mitchell Landry decides to grace us with his presence.”

“He can’t be too old if he’s Grif’s nephew.” She smiled. “Maybe he’s young and good-looking. Maybe I could even help him try out some of the merchandise.” She held up a pair of fur-lined handcuffs.

Sid shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I just know how to have fun.”

“Yeah, but you gotta be serious sometimes.”

This from a man with pink hair, who owned more jewelry than she did. “Life’s too short to be serious,” she said. She slit open another carton and pulled out a sequined bra top. Rhinestones and faux pearls winked in the fluorescent light. Her eyes widened. “Get a load of this!”

“What’s it supposed to be? Some kind of costume?” Just 4 Play specialized in elaborate costumes for those patrons who enjoyed acting out their romantic fantasies.

“I think it’s a harem girl.” She reached into the carton and fished out a pair of filmy harem pants. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Sid shrugged and went back to unloading boxes. “Bet it’s not as popular as the French maid or Nurse Betty.”

“I don’t know, Sid. It’s pretty sexy, if you ask me.” She turned the bra top this way and that, watching the gems sparkle. “I think I’ll put it on the mannequin in the front window.”

“That’s a good idea. That black leather is going to dry out in the sun.”

She scooped up the harem pants and started toward the back of the store. “Hey, where are you going?” Sid called. “We still have another pallet of boxes to unload.”

“I want to try this on. Model it for a while.”

“Just make sure the customers know you don’t come with the merchandise.”

She grinned over her shoulder at him. “Depends on the customer.”

“Girl, you’re all talk and you know it.”

She stepped into the dressing room and drew the curtain. So maybe she wasn’t as wild as she made out to be sometimes. Half the fun was pretending. Just 4 Play was all about fun and fantasy, so what harm was there in flirting with the customers a little? She liked to think they left the store a little happier than when they’d come in and if sexy clothes and double entendres did the trick, why not?

The bra top fit snugly, accentuating her cleavage. The filmy harem pants, which she put on over a pair of pink satin panties, hung low about her waist, the shimmery gauze billowing around her legs, fastening at her ankles. She smiled at her reflection in the dressing room mirror. Not bad. This was going to be a top seller.

Now if the right man would buy it and the pirate costume…

She laughed. Grif and Sid had teased her about the Errol Flynn getup she’d convinced them to order. “What woman wouldn’t want to be swept away by a swashbuckling pirate?” she’d argued. Apparently not enough, since the costume had been gathering dust on the costume rack for six months. Still, one day, she would find a man to wear that outfit for her.

The problem with most of the men she met was that they were too serious. She’d start out thinking they were going to have a little fun and the next thing she knew, they’d be looking deeply into her eyes and talking about marriage and kids and all kinds of complicated things like that. Whatever happened to all those commitment-phobic men she’d read about? Why did she always end up with the other kind?

She shook her head and stepped out of the dressing room. “So what do you think?” she called to Sid. She raised her arms and twirled around.

He turned and surveyed her critically. “Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm goes to Arabia,” he said.

“Aww, come on. Don’t I look a little bit exotic?”

Sid shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart, but those big blue eyes and upturned nose, not to mention the blond curls and freckles, make you look like you just stepped off the bus from the Iowa cornfields. You’d be better off with the schoolgirl costume.”

She did her best to glare at him. “It’s just because I’m short. It’s hard to look seductive when you’re only five-two.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. A lot of guys go for the wholesome look.”

“Wholesome is for milk.” She was about to stick her tongue out at him when the bells on the front door jangled and a customer walked in.

People had a lot of different attitudes when they came into Just 4 Play for the first time. Many were nervous, jingling change, giggling, even blushing. Some knew what they wanted and headed straight for it, not bothering to look at any of the other merchandise. A few apparently thought they were entering some kind of hobby shop and, realizing their mistake, quickly retreated. Couples came in holding hands, talking quietly as they studied the displays, using the shopping trip as a prelude to a more intimate encounter.

But the man in the business suit who walked in now had an attitude Jill hadn’t encountered in a customer before. From the top of his well-cut brown hair to the toes of his spit-shined wing tips, this guy was completely serious. His expression was one you’d expect to see on a banker who had just turned down your loan, and his shoulders—nice and broad, she noted—were squared like a gladiator about to do battle.

Talk about uptight, Jill thought as she glided toward him. She smiled to herself. Nothing like a challenge to get her afternoon off to a good start. By the time she was finished with Mr. Stuffed Shirt, he’d be smiling and ready to have a little fun. Judging by his sour expression, the guy hadn’t had nearly enough Vitamin F in his life lately.

“Welcome to Just 4 Play,” she said, coming up to him and purposely standing too close. “Are you a virgin?”

His eyes—a gorgeous chocolate-brown—widened. “I beg your pardon?”

She moved a little closer, her arm brushing up against his. She breathed in his spicy cologne. Aramis. A scent she’d always found particularly sexy. “Is this your first time to visit the store?”

“Yes.” He took a step away from her and glanced around. He frowned as his gaze rested on a life-size blow-up doll wearing a red satin bikini. “I see everything I’ve heard about this place is true.”

“Oh.” She took his arm and gently tugged him farther into the shop. “Good things, I hope. Are you looking for anything in particular? Something for you and your wife?”

“I’m not married.”

She smiled. So he wasn’t married. How nice.

He was still looking around the room, frowning, as if he didn’t approve. Well, they got people like that, too. But Jill figured since he’d walked through the door, he had to be a little bit interested. The trick was to play to that interest, until you found out what the customer really wanted. “Something for you and your girlfriend, then.”

That actually got a jolt out of him. He moved out of her grasp. “I don’t think my girlfriend would be interested in anything you have here.”

“She might surprise you.” They had stopped in the section of the store devoted to lingerie and costumes. “We have some very nice lingerie. Nightgowns and teddies. Our garter belts are very popular as well.” She held up a lacy black number. “Picture her in this, with some silk stockings and stiletto heels.”

A faint flush of red showed on his tanned cheeks. “That’s not why I came in here.”

Jill grinned and laid the garter belt aside. Who was it who said still waters run deep? She bet Mr. Starched Shorts here would be a real tiger if he let himself go a little. “Maybe you’d prefer something more sensual.” She took his hand and led him toward a display of massage oils—a good place to start for novices. As they passed the front window, sunlight caught the rhinestones on her bra top, scattering reflections.

“What is that you’re wearing?” her customer demanded.

She paused and held up her hands, giving a little belly-dancer shimmy. “This is part of our fantasy costume collection. Would you like to see others?”

The man’s gaze swept over her, more intimate than a caress. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her breasts, shielding herself from his intense gaze. He definitely needed to learn to lighten up. “People actually wear those things somewhere besides Halloween parties?”

The amusement in his voice relaxed her. “Of course. Couples enjoy acting out their romantic fantasies. For instance, the man might dress as a cowboy, complete with leather chaps. Or our construction worker tool belt is very popular.” Her grin widened. Her customer would look very nice in that particular costume. “Or a woman might dress as a French maid, or a nurse.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a sexy purr. “What’s your fantasy, sir? I’m sure we’ve got something to help you fulfill it.”

His eyes locked to hers, warning her she’d asked the wrong question. Or the right one. The raw emotion she glimpsed before the polished facade moved into place once more hinted at a man with unplumbed depths. A man who kept his feelings in chains, waiting for the woman with the right key to free them….

She looked away, her cheeks warm, like a child who’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to see.

He stepped back. “I’m not interested in fantasy at the moment, I—”

“We also have some wonderful instructional books on sensual massage.” Telling herself she was silly to let a stranger make her lose her cool, she took his hand again and tugged him toward an old-fashioned wardrobe filled with brightly colored bottles and jars. “And we have these flavored massage oils. They’re very popular with both men and women.” She unscrewed the cap on a tester bottle of cinnamon massage oil. She felt him watching her, and shivers of awareness danced across her bare skin.

“Did you know they’ve actually done surveys showing that one of the most arousing scents for men is the smell of baking cinnamon rolls?” She dabbed a bit of the oil on the inside of her wrist and held it out to him. “Doesn’t that smell wonderful?”

His fingers around her wrist were strong and warm. Long, sensitive fingers, the kind that could bring a lot of pleasure to a woman, if he knew how to use them. And something told her this man knew how to use all his assets. He brought her wrist to his nose and inhaled deeply, eyes closing for a second. His lips were so close to her skin she could feel the heat of his breath and her knees began to turn to jelly. She wanted to pull away from his grasp, but couldn’t find the strength. What was going on here?

He opened his eyes and his gaze locked with hers once more, intense and searching. Serious, as if her flirting act hadn’t fazed him one bit. He looked right past her frivolous costume and teasing manner, to a part of herself she never let anyone see.

She jerked away from him, startled. Now where had that come from? What was he doing looking at her that way—and why? “Um…maybe you’d better tell me why you came in here and I’ll see if someone can help you,” she said, avoiding his gaze. And the someone wouldn’t be her. She replaced the bottle of oil and rubbed her bare shoulders, trying to banish chill bumps. She was used to being the one in control and she didn’t like it that a stranger could take over a situation so quickly.

“I’m looking for the manager,” he said, his voice portraying no hint that anything out of the ordinary had passed between them.

“Sure. That’s Sid. He’s in back unloading new stock.” She straightened, forcing confidence back into her voice. “Tell me your name and I’ll go get him.”

“It’s Landry. Mitchell Landry. I’m the new owner of this place.”

2

MITCH’S JAW TIGHTENED as a rosy glow warmed the salesclerk’s cheeks. She had the most exquisite skin…much of which was displayed to advantage in that harem girl getup. And those eyes—violet-blue and wide as a child’s as she stared at him now. He almost smiled. It had been a while since he’d struck awe in a woman.

“I…I’ll get Sid,” she stammered, and hurried away with a rustle of silk and satin. He watched her go, intrigued. He hadn’t expected such a combination of class and sass in a place like this.

But then again, when he’d learned Uncle Grif had left him a sex toy shop, he’d halfway expected to discover a dimly lit building on the “wrong” side of town, where people in black leather skulked among racks of dirty movies.

Instead he’d found this perfectly respectable-looking building in the heart of Boulder’s business district. Well, respectable as long as you didn’t notice that the antique armoire held an assortment of whips, handcuffs and other bondage gear, or that the walnut secretary showcased a collection of vibrators in crayon colors.

And what was with the costumes? He studied a mannequin who wore a lacy apron that barely covered her breasts, a black lace garter belt, black thong underwear, fishnet hose and spike heels. He wondered what Lana would think if he suggested she wear something like that.

He shook his head. Who was he kidding? Lana Montgomery didn’t even like to leave the lights on when they were in bed. She definitely wouldn’t approve of her boyfriend owning a shop like Just 4 Play. Her father and the other members of the bank board weren’t exactly thrilled when they heard about it, though he’d managed to placate them with his talk of plans for the future of the building.

“Mr. Landry?”

Mitch turned and stared at the man moving toward him. This person had a four-inch tall pink Mohawk rising above his shaved head like a rooster’s comb. The hair and the two-inch heels on his motorcycle boots made him tower a good eight inches over Mitch’s own six feet. The man was dressed in black leather pants and vest, with an alarming array of silver rings and diamond studs glittering from both ears, his nose, eyebrow and lips. Mitch wasn’t surprised when he opened his mouth to reveal a silver barbell piercing his tongue. “Hi, I’m Sid Crawford, the manager of Just 4 Play. Man, it’s good to finally meet you.”

Sid had a firm handshake and a smile that transformed his rough features from menacing to charming. Mitch almost laughed. Apparently nothing was as it seemed at Just 4 Play. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Crawford.”

“Call me Sid. We aren’t into formal around here.”

Mitch glanced at the snake tattoo winding its way up Sid’s left bicep. “No, I can see this isn’t a very formal kind of place.”

“So I guess you’ve had a chance to look around.” Sid rubbed his hands together. “What else would you like to know?”

“I’ll want to look at the books, of course.”

“Sure. They’re right back here.” He followed Sid to the checkout counter in the center of the store. The manager pulled out a thick sheaf of computer printouts. “Business is real good. You don’t have anything to worry about there.”

Mitch’s eyes widened when he read the final figure on the computer report. “This is the income for one month?” he asked.

“Oh, no, man. That’s for one week.”

Mitch blinked. He’d had no idea… “Who buys all this stuff?” he asked.

Sid tugged on his left earring. “Lots of people. We get a lot of married couples in here. You know, looking to spice things up. College students experimenting. Single women. Lots of single women.” He grinned. “You attached?”

“Uh, not exactly.” He’d been dating Lana Montgomery for several months now, but he wouldn’t say they were exactly attached, though maybe in the future….

“It’s a great place to meet chicks,” Sid continued. “We get all kinds of people really—gays, straights, people into S&M or fetishes. You name it, we’ve got something to make them happy.”

The rustle of silk distracted him and out of the corner of his eye, he watched the blond salesclerk sashay past. She certainly was an attractive little thing.

“So, dude, I’m sorry about your loss.”

“Loss?” Mitch glanced at the books again. Was there a loss on here somewhere?

“Yeah, Grif was an awesome guy. We’re really going to miss him.”

“Oh, Grif. Yes, he was…awesome. Thank you.” Actually, in the family, his father’s brother had been known mostly for his young girlfriends, eccentric habits and outrageous taste in clothing. He and Grif had never been particularly close, though they’d stayed in touch. The last time they’d seen each other, Grif had accused his nephew of being “a regular stick in the mud.” Was willing him Just 4 Play Grif’s idea of a joke?

“I’d better give you this, too.” Sid rummaged in the drawer under the cash register and fished out a key.

Mitch accepted the key. “What’s it for?”

“It’s the key to Grif’s office.” Sid nodded toward a door at the back of the room. “I think most of the stuff in there is personal. Grif had a sort of apartment fixed up. He liked to stay over sometimes, rather than driving back to his place in Denver. But there might be some business stuff in there, too.”

Mitch pocketed the key. “Thanks. I’ll take a look at it later.”

The blonde moved past again, carrying a cardboard box. Mitch couldn’t help watching her walk across the room. She had the most distracting sway in her hips….

“And you met Jill already.” Sid nodded toward the blonde. She’d stopped before an armoire and was busy unpacking bottles from the carton and lining them up on the shelves. She ignored them, but the tension in her shoulders told Mitch she was listening to every word that was said.

“Yes, I’ve met Jill,” he said. “She was giving me a personal tour of the store.”

A pyramid of plastic bottles fell with a crash and Jill knelt to gather them up. “Let me help you.” In three strides, Mitch was beside her, helping her gather up the bottles. He read the label on one. “Kama Sutra Sensation. Have you tried this one?”

The go-to-hell look she gave him might have wounded a lesser man. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the owner instead of letting me go on like that?” she asked.

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance.” All the bottles reclaimed, he offered his hand.

She hesitated before taking it and allowing him to pull her to her feet. “I must say, I was impressed with your sales technique,” he said. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding another job.”

“Another job!” She shoved the bottles onto the shelf and faced him, hands on her hips. “You’re going to fire me just because I didn’t know you were the new boss?”

“Not fire you. But you’ll need to find another job when I close the place down.”

“What do you mean, close?” Sid hurried over to them.

Mitch looked around at the costumed mannequins, the cabinets full of condoms and oils and lingerie and fetish toys, finally letting his gaze come to rest on Jill’s pixie face, all flashing eyes and pouting mouth. “Uncle Grif might have gotten a kick out of this place, but now that he’s left it to me, I intend to close it and use the space to open a restaurant.” He nodded toward the reshelved massage oil. “I think most people are more interested in Kung Pao than Kama Sutra, don’t you?”

“You’d better take a look at those books again,” Sid said. “This place makes way more money than any restaurant would.”

“Oh, I don’t think this has anything to do with the money, Sid.” Jill crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“No, it isn’t about the money.” Mitch looked her in the eye, resisting the temptation to let his gaze drop lower, to her very enticing cleavage. “It’s a personal decision.”

Sid frowned. “Come again?”

“Mr. Landry doesn’t think we’re respectable,” Jill said. “He’s embarrassed.”

“Ohhhh.” Sid nodded and clapped him on the back. “Go take a look at those books again, dude. You’ll get over your embarrassment, I guarantee.”

Mitch shoved his hands into his pockets. “I have a younger sister, and business associates. I’ll admit I don’t care to have them know I own a business that sells ten kinds of dildos and fur-lined handcuffs.”

“Twenty,” Jill said.

He blinked. “Twenty what?”

“We have twenty kinds of dildos.” She took a step toward him, backing him up against the armoire. “And we have hundreds of satisfied customers. Just 4 Play provides a needed service in the community.”

“By selling musical condoms and Ben Wa beads?”

“No, by selling fantasy. And fun.” She leaned closer, until the tips of her breasts almost brushed against him. “Something you apparently haven’t had enough of in your life.”

“Life is about more than fun.” He forced himself to ignore the enticing aroma of jasmine that surrounded her. “I have work to do. Responsibilities.” He straightened. “And a reputation to protect, whether you agree with that or not.”

She stepped back, a scornful expression on her face that might have been more effective if it hadn’t made him think of the I Dream of Jeannie reruns he’d seen on Nick at Night.

“Just 4 Play has a reputation too,” she said. “And it’s not as bad as you seem to think. You haven’t even been here an hour and already you’re making judgments. You ought to at least give us a chance to show you what this place, and our customers, are really like.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. The architects are all ready to draw up the plans and I’ve started the paperwork for the construction loan and building permits.”

Sid’s shoulders slumped. “So when do we shut the doors?”

“You have a month.” He waved his hand at the shelves of bottles, boxes and gadgets, avoiding Jill’s angry face. “You’d better start marking things down.” He checked his watch. In thirty minutes, he had to meet Lana at the bank. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

Jill caught up with him at the door. “Isn’t there anything we can do to change your mind?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not a thing. I’m the kind of man who, when I make up my mind to do something, it stays made up.” He hadn’t put himself and his sister through school and started his own real estate business by being wishy-washy.

“You say that as if it’s a virtue.”

Her words caught him off guard. He studied the toes of his shoes for a moment, then looked up at her. “I guess if you think life is all about fun, it isn’t,” he said. He nodded goodbye and opened the door.

He thought he’d gotten the last word, but right before the door shut, her voice drifted to him. “If you don’t have fun, you don’t have a life, Mr. Landry. Too bad no one ever taught you that.”

JILL SLAMMED THE DOOR SHUT on Mitch Landry, then turned and punched Blow-Up Betty right in the stomach. “I can’t believe he would do this to us!”

Betty swung back and forth on her stand until Sid moved over to steady her. “Careful with the merchandise, sister.”

She brushed by Sid and began to pace. “I mean, how can he waltz in here, take one look around and decide to shut us down?”

“He’s the owner. He can do anything he wants.” Sid walked over to the cash register and slumped onto the stool behind the counter. “I guess we’d better start looking for other jobs.”

“I don’t want another job.” Jill didn’t stamp her foot, but she wanted to. This was one of those times when an all-out temper tantrum would have felt good. “I want to keep this one. There must be something we can do.”

“You heard the man. He’s got the architects working already. In another few months people will be ordering up fried rice where the costume rack is now.” He picked up the paper and opened it to the classified ads. “There must be something in here I could do.”

Jill hurried over to him and grabbed his arm. “Sid, you don’t want to get another job.”

His eyebrow ring rose. “I don’t?”

“No. If you get another job, they’ll make you change your hair. Or get rid of your jewelry.” She leaned closer, her voice almost a whisper. “They’ll make you wear a suit. And a tie.”

Sid put a hand to his throat. “A tie?” He shook his head. “There must be something I can do where I don’t have to wear a tie.”

“Not and still have the title of manager. Even the manager of McDonald’s wears a tie. Plus, anyplace else you go to work, you’re liable to have to be there at eight o’clock, or even earlier.”

“Eight in the morning?” Just 4 Play opened at 11:00 a.m. and closed at 10:00 p.m. For a night owl like Sid, 8:00 a.m. might as well be the middle of the night. He laid aside the paper and gave her a stricken look. “What can we do?”

“We have to change his mind.”

“How? We only have a month.” He looked around the store. “By then we might be sold out of everything.”

“We’ll simply have to show him how important this place is—that we provide a much-needed service for people.”

Sid frowned. “How can you do that? I mean, let’s face it, we’re not exactly the food bank. Plenty of people get along fine without candy pants and nipple rings.”

“Only because they don’t know what they’re missing.” Inspiration sent tingles up her spine. She grinned. “I’ve got it!”

Sid leaned away from her. “Got what?”

“I know how we can convince Mitch Landry not to close the store.”

“How?”

She plucked a jar of body chocolate from a display on the counter and began rolling it back and forth in her palms. “I think a little seduction is in order.” She looked at Sid. “I’ll make sure our Mr. Landry gets acquainted with the delights of some of our merchandise.”

A pleasant warmth curled up from her stomach as the idea took hold. Really, it was a brilliant plan. Mitch Landry wasn’t a bad person, merely uninformed. He had a great body and definite masculine appeal. It might even be fun to strip away some of his stuffy attitude and inhibitions, not to mention that suit and starched shirt.

Sid looked skeptical. “You think that would really make any difference?”

She set the jar of chocolate on the counter. “Sure it would. Once he’s having so much fun with the stuff we sell, it would be hypocritical to close us down.”

“You think he’d care about that?”

“You heard the man. It’s not about money for him, it’s about reputation. Responsibilities. He’s got integrity up to his eyeballs.” She gave a mock salute. “No, I just have to find a way to get him to loosen up.” Half the fun would be knowing where to start.

Sid shook his head. “I don’t know, Jill. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get personally involved.”

“Oh come on, I’m a big girl. It’s not as if I plan to get serious with the guy. We’ll just have a little fun.”

“He might not feel the same way. He struck me as the type who takes everything seriously.”

She shrugged off the truth of Sid’s words. Seducing Mitch Landry would be a dangerous game, but nobody had ever mistaken her for a coward. “I’ll be doing him a favor by showing him how to lighten up.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

She leaned on the counter, chin in her hands, and smiled to herself. “Then I’ll have a hell of a lot of fun trying, won’t I?”

3

MITCH WAS FIVE MINUTES LATE to meet Lana, but he wasn’t worried, because she was guaranteed to be ten minutes late. It was one of the things that annoyed him about her. That and her tendency to be arrogant, but he supposed that came from always being at the top of the social heap.

Still, in any relationship, you had to overlook certain things. Lana had other qualities he admired: she was attractive, well-dressed, intelligent and elegant. And she had the kind of connections he needed to establish himself as a businessman in this town. Not that he’d ever date a woman solely for her social status, but it was an added plus when you were trying to get ahead.

She breezed through the double doors of the bank lobby right on schedule, at ten after. Mitch rose from his chair and went to meet her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Careful,” she cautioned, pushing him back. “I just had my hair done.”

Why that should make any difference, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if he was going to run his fingers all through her hair in the course of a hello kiss. Not that he could anyway, she kept it so firmly pinned in place.

“Lana, darling, you look lovely as ever.” Morton Montgomery emerged from his office to greet them. He patted his daughter’s shoulder and shook Mitch’s hand. “I’ve got all the paperwork ready for you. Why don’t you come right in and we’ll go over it all.”

Mitch followed Lana and her father into an office whose predominant theme was dead animals. Mounts of bighorn sheep, deer, elk, moose and even a mountain lion occupied most of the wall space. Mitch took a chair with his back to the lion and smothered an expression of distaste.

“So have you had a chance to check out the property yet?” Mort asked as he settled into a full-grained leather executive chair.

“I was over there this afternoon. I must say, it’s not at all what I thought it would be.”

Mort pursed his lips and nodded. “Still, not the sort of place you’d want your name associated with.”

“What sort of place is it?” Lana looked at him, a pleasant expression on her perfectly made-up face.

Mort cleared his throat. Mitch resented the warning. He’d already agreed Lana didn’t need to know the nature of the business he’d inherited. “Nothing special.” He waved away the question. “A restaurant will do much better in that location, I’m convinced.” His throat tightened only a little at the lie. He had been convinced a restaurant was a better financial venture until he’d seen the books at Just 4 Play. So convinced he’d sold most of his other real estate around town in order to put everything into this new enterprise. But who would have thought there could be so much money in sex?

“We’ve already had an appraisal done.” Mort handed across a folder. “And here’s the preliminary paperwork for the construction loan. You’ll have no problem qualifying for the funds you need. All we’re waiting on now are the architectural plans and the permits from the city.”

“I should have everything ready in thirty days.” He closed the folder and returned it to the banker.

“Excellent. I think this is going to be an excellent investment, Mitch. Something we can all be proud of.” Mort grinned. “So do you two have plans for the evening?”

“We have reservations at the Boulderado.” Lana picked up her purse and stood. “We need to leave now, or we’ll be late.”

On the way to the restaurant, Mitch only half listened to Lana’s account of an annoying client who’d visited her CPA firm that day. He was replaying the conversation in Mort’s office. Why did it bother him that Mort had said the restaurant was something they could “all” be proud of? Wasn’t Mitch the one who was doing all the work? Wasn’t he the one who’d earned the right to be proud—or not? Or did Mort think a simple business loan gave him control over the project—and over Mitch?

The maître d’ at the Boulderado welcomed them with a smile and escorted them to their favorite table in the atrium. “Should I have the wine steward bring your usual?” he asked.

“Yes, James, that will be fine,” Lana said as she settled into her chair.

James started to leave, but Mitch stopped him. “Wait. Instead of the merlot, let’s have a chianti.”

James and Lana both stared at him. “But we always have the merlot,” Lana said.

He nodded and spread his napkin across his lap. “Tonight, I’d like something different.”

“Yes, sir.” James hurried away.

Lana regarded him with a half smile on her lips. “Feeling feisty tonight, are we?”

“Something wrong with that?” He kept his voice light, but there was no mistaking the challenge in the words.

“No. It’s just not like you to be so…different.”

The truth of her words wounded him. Maybe Uncle Grif had been right. Maybe he was a stick in the mud. Well, that didn’t mean he had to stay that way. People changed. He could change without sacrificing his integrity in the process.

He started by ordering broiled trout for dinner instead of his usual prime rib. Lana compressed her lips into a thin line, but said nothing. Mitch sipped the excellent wine and regarded her over the rim of the glass. Her dark hair was drawn back from her face and gathered in a low knot, the kind ballerinas wore. He supposed people would say she had a classical beauty—fine features, with deep-set green eyes and a Roman nose.

“Is something wrong?” She looked puzzled.

He shook his head and picked up his fork. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why were you staring at me?”

He forced a pleasant smile to his lips. “Maybe I simply enjoy looking at you.”

She dismissed the compliment with a frown and began cutting up her prime rib with the precision of a surgeon. “I saw Jerry Brenham at lunch today. He says the Canterbury Apartments are going on the market next week. If you call him now, you could make a bid before anyone else.”

“Actually, I’m thinking of getting out of the rental market altogether.”

She raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow in question. “But why? The Boulder rental market is one of the most profitable in the country.”

“Yes, but I’m tired of being a landlord.” At least with his own restaurant, he wouldn’t have tenants calling him up in the middle of the night to complain about a lack of hot water or the noisy neighbors.

“You should hire a management company. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with tenants.”

“I like being personally involved in a business. That’s why I decided to open a restaurant.”

She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smear her lipstick. “I can’t imagine why. Half the fun of having money is being able to delegate the work to someone else.” She stabbed at a piece of beef. “Then you can go out and make more money.”

It always came back to money with Lana, didn’t it? he thought. They’d met at an investment seminar. He’d been attracted to her from the first because she was so different from him. She had a grace and ease in social situations he wanted to emulate, and a cool reserve he felt could help him keep a tighter reign on his own sometimes tumultuous passions.

The fact that she was the kind of woman who would have never looked at him twice when he was a struggling scholarship student in college made the challenge of winning her that much more exciting. And now here they were, if not engaged, then certainly “in a relationship.” But a relationship based on what—business?

They had dinner every Wednesday at the Boulderado, and attended the theater or a concert every Friday. He usually stayed at her condo two nights a week. She never stayed at his place; she said she couldn’t be comfortable there.

Why hadn’t he realized before how boring and predictable his life had become? He looked at his plate. Right down to the same New York cheesecake every Wednesday night for dessert.

“Mitch, why are you so quiet? Haven’t you been paying attention to a word I’ve said?” Did he imagine a note of annoyance in her voice?

He pushed his plate away. “I don’t want to talk about business tonight.”

She frowned. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her across the table. “Why don’t we talk about us?”

Her eyes widened and she looked away. She balanced her knife and fork precisely in the center of her plate and folded her napkin neatly beside it. “I’m listening.”

And what did he have to say? How could he describe this restlessness he felt? “Lana, do you ever think about doing things differently?” he asked.

“Doing what things differently?” She sipped her coffee.

Decaf, extra cream, no sugar, Mitch thought.

“Anything. Everything.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “For instance, sex.”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean—do you ever think about…experimenting. Dressing up in sexy clothes or using some massage oil or…something.”

By this time her cheeks were the color of ripe apples and her lips had almost disappeared as she compressed her mouth into a thin line. “Really, Mitch. Why would you want to do any of that?”

“I don’t know…because it might be fun. Because maybe we’ve both been a little too…repressed.”

She stared at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me. I just think my life has grown a little…boring. I don’t see what’s wrong with wanting to try something different.”

“I’m sorry if you think I’m…repressed.” She jerked her napkin from her lap and deposited it on the table.

“Lana, I didn’t mean you—”

“I think I’d better leave now.” She stood and clutched her purse to her chest.

“Lana, I—” The apology froze on his lips. He couldn’t say he was sorry, because he wasn’t. What was wrong with a couple talking about these things?

“Don’t bother to get up. I’ll call a taxi.” She gave him a last wounded look and hurried past him.

He told himself he should go after her. That’s probably what she wanted. But why should he pursue her? If Lana wasn’t even willing to listen to his point of view, what did that say about their relationship? He’d thought the safe, orderly routine they’d fallen into was what he wanted, but he realized that wasn’t enough anymore.

So no, he wouldn’t go after her. Actually it was a nice change sitting here alone, sipping his wine and thinking.

Mostly he thought of Jill. How different she was from Lana. Or from any other woman he knew. She was frank without being crass, funny without being phony. She looked like the girl next door and dressed like an erotic temptress. He’d only met her this afternoon but he already felt like she knew more about him than most people. She’d picked up right away on the reason he wanted to close Just 4 Play, and hadn’t been the least bit impressed with his position or power. She hadn’t cared if he owned a whole city block of businesses or if he was a scholarship student at the university.

He smiled, remembering the way she’d asked “What’s your fantasy?”

But his smile faded as her other words came back to him. Was she right? Was he too uptight? Had he forgotten how to have fun?

She couldn’t know how little room in his life there’d been for fun. From the time he was seventeen, he’d been looking after his mother and little sister, Meg. He’d worked and gone to school, and been there for every band concert and school program of Meg’s. Now that Meg was a premed student, she didn’t need him so much—except to pay the bills. And that meant he had to devote himself to business. To meeting the right people, making the right investments. He’d worked hard to develop a certain reputation. For Meg’s sake, as well as his own, he couldn’t let something like owning a sex toy shop cast a shadow over everything he’d worked for. People judged you more harshly when they knew you came from nothing. If too many people thought that way, you could end up with nothing again.

He’d have time for fun later. Right now he had to take care of his responsibilities.

Which brought him back to Jill. She was one of his responsibilities now too. And Sid. He would let them know he’d treat them fairly. He’d give them a generous severance package and help them find other jobs. Maybe he’d even offer Jill a job in his new restaurant. It would be nice having her around. Maybe one day, she’d even come to think of him as a friend.

JILL WAS SURPRISED TO FIND Mitch hard at work in Grif’s office when she arrived at Just 4 Play the next morning. At least, from the looks of the papers spread out on the desk in front of him, he’d been working; when she knocked on the door frame and stepped through the open door, he was staring into space.

When she came into the room, he glanced at her, then straightened. “Good morning, Jill.”

“Good morning. I see you’re here early.”

“I’ve been here since nine. That’s not exactly early.”

“It is around here. We do most of our business in the evening, though the lunch hour is good, too. People like to pop in and pick up a few things.”

“That gives a whole new slant on the idea of a quickie.”

The remark startled a laugh out of her. Yesterday, Mitch hadn’t struck her as a man with much of a sense of humor. Which just went to show, first impressions aren’t always accurate. “Finding anything interesting?” She nodded at the paperwork on his desk.

He glanced down at the folder in front of him, then closed it. “Tell me, what did you think of Grif?” he asked.

“Grif?” The question surprised her. Why was he interested in her opinion of his uncle? “I liked him,” she said. “He was a fun guy.”

“That’s it? A fun guy?”

“Yeah. I mean, he knew how to enjoy life.” Unlike some uptight people I could name. She leaned against the desk. “I’ll bet he was your favorite uncle, huh?”

Was the hurt that flashed across his face grief, or something else? He pushed the file away. “Did you need something?”

So much for getting to know each other better. Good thing she wasn’t the type to give up easily. She flashed him her most dazzling smile. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday.” She moved around to sit on the edge of the desk. Her skirt rose up on her thigh, not an indecent amount, but enough that she was sure he noticed. She’d purposely dressed more conservatively today, in a simple skirt and sleeveless knit top. Sometimes what a man couldn’t see was more enticing than what was right out in the open.

His color heightened as he glanced at her, then he jerked his gaze away. “What in particular were you thinking about?”

“What you said about most people being more interested in Kung Pao than the Kama Sutra.”

“Oh?”

With one syllable, he lobbed the conversation back to her. But that one word told her a lot. He was interested all right, but determined not to show it. “I think, in general, people do tend to think about food more than sex, but maybe that’s because we eat three times a day. I mean, food is always there, practically right in front of us.”

“But most people don’t have sex three times a day.”

She smiled. “No, I think it’s safe to say most people don’t have sex nearly that often.”

He nodded, still somber as a judge, though she thought she caught a hint of amusement in his voice. “If they did, it would severely interfere with work.”

“In that case, it would probably be outlawed altogether. We mustn’t let anything get in the way of the economy.”

He laughed, and she counted that a minor victory. “So what are you trying to say?”

She picked up a pencil and smoothed her fingers along its length. “That sex is more special than food. That we shouldn’t take it for granted. And if dressing up or playing with toys or using other things makes sex special for people, then that’s a good thing, don’t you think?”

He sat back, leaning away from her, his pose casual, but the tension in his shoulders letting her know he was aware of her in the way a man is aware of an attractive woman. “What’s wrong with the old-fashioned way? A man and a woman, no props?”

She looked directly at him for the first time since she’d come into the office, her expression serious, chasing the mirth from his eyes. She wet her lips, her voice low, seductive. “With the right man and woman, that can be wonderful.”

He held her gaze, not flinching. “Then they don’t really need places like this.”

“No.” She leaned closer. The spicy scent of Aramis sent a warm tickle through her midsection. “Do you like cake?”

He blinked. “Cake? I guess so. It depends on the cake.”

“Chocolate cake. Devil’s food. With so much chocolate, it’s almost black. Sinful.” She wet her lips. “With chocolate buttercream icing an inch thick.”

He swallowed. “And your point is?”

“Just 4 Play is like the icing on that cake. The cake is good without the icing, but it’s so much better with it.” She dropped her gaze to his lips. All this talk of sweet indulgences made her wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

Apparently she wouldn’t find out today. “That doesn’t mean I have to be the one to sell the cake.” He sat forward again, his voice firm, the spell between them broken. “Or the icing. Or sex toys and lingerie.”

She frowned. “You’d rather sell Chinese food. Something people can get at half a dozen other places in town.”

“But not this Chinese food. I have a five-star chef who’s going to create a special menu. We’re not talking your average dollar-a-scoop buffet.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and swung one leg impatiently against the desk. “It’s still something ordinary. Expected.” Why did it disappoint her so much that he’d settle for something anyone could do?

“Men have built fortunes providing people with ordinary services,” he said.

She leaned forward, pinning him to the chair with her gaze. “But it’s the risk-takers who’ve really made a difference in this world. Besides, you’d have more of a chance of making a fortune sticking with Just 4 Play. But of course, that wouldn’t be respectable.”

He frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad word.”

“Only if you’re willing to settle for the ordinary, instead of the extraordinary.”

“So you’re saying Just 4 Play is extraordinary?”

“It could be. How are you going to know if you don’t stick around and find out?”

“I guess I’ll take that chance.”

She slid off the desk and looked down at him. “I think you’ve forgotten what it means to really take chances,” she said. “If you ever knew.”

She turned and left, but not before glimpsing the hurt that flashed through his eyes at her parting words. Good. She’d made at least one point. And planted the seeds for further victories. She would convince Mitch Landry to see things her way. And maybe she’d show him what he’d been missing living his safe, conventional life.

4

MITCH PACED IN FRONT of his desk, debating whether to go after Jill, to tell her exactly what he thought of her unsolicited opinions and her attempts to change his mind. This was his business and he could do anything he damn well pleased with it. Why should he care what a salesgirl he’d known less than two days thought of him? He had half a mind to—

“Shit!” Pain shot through his leg as he banged against the corner of the daybed that sat against the back wall of the office/apartment. He frowned at the offending piece of furniture. The bed was covered in a fleece throw decorated with rows of bright yellow smiley faces. Another example of Uncle Grif’s appalling tastes.

He sank down onto the bed, head in his hands. No, in this case, he was the one who’d behaved appallingly. He’d dismissed Grif as a crass playboy who’d devoted his life to golf, women and the sex toy business.

Going through this office this morning, Mitch had discovered another man entirely. He found a whole file drawer devoted to the various charities Grif supported—a mentoring program for adolescent boys, a shelter for abused women, a spay and neuter clinic for indigent pet owners. The thickest file in the drawer sent a pain through his chest.

He looked up, at the folder still sitting on the corner of the desk. From here he could read the hand-lettered label on the tab: Mary Landry Mental Health Education Foundation.

Loud, tasteless, fun-loving Uncle Grif had funded a program to educate the public about mental illness and the mentally ill. He had named it after his sister-in-law, Mitch’s mother, who had spent her last years in and out of institutions, struggling for a normalcy she could never quite attain.

Mitch felt ambushed by grief for a man he’d never really known. A man he’d never have the chance to thank.

Had Uncle Grif left him these things to show how wrong Mitch had been in his judgment? Or as a way of saying he understood?

He stood and opened another folder on the desk. This one held tax forms. Despite his happy-go-lucky reputation, Grif had been a sound businessman. Just 4 Play was on solid financial footing and had increased profits every year in the three years since it had opened.

But money didn’t equal respect. In yet another folder, he’d found paperwork showing the Chamber of Commerce had turned down Grif’s application for membership, with a curt letter stating Just 4 Play did not enhance the family-oriented reputation they wanted to project.

He pushed aside the stack of files and stretched. A glance at his watch showed it was after noon. A good time to go out for a bite to eat. As Jill had pointed out, he had to eat three times a day, though sorry to say, he wasn’t having sex three times a day. Not even three times a week. And from the way Lana had acted last night, he’d be lucky if she ever had sex with him again.

Then again, would that be such a loss?

With this disturbing thought, he emerged into the main part of the store. As Jill had said, lunchtime business was brisk, with people lined up two deep at the register and more browsing in various parts of the store. He spotted Jill in a back corner, rearranging items on a pegboard.

She glanced toward him, then quickly looked away. The deliberate snub annoyed him. Just because they disagreed on how he should run his business didn’t mean they couldn’t be civil. As her boss, it was up to him to set an example. He decided to ask her if she wanted him to bring anything back for her lunch.

She was standing on tiptoe to hang something on one of the pegs when he reached her corner. “Hello, Jill.”

“Hello, Mitch.” She reached into another carton, not looking at him.

“What do you have there?” He nodded to what looked like a ball of fake fur in her hand.

“Fur-lined handcuffs.” She held up what he could see now was two circlets of black fur joined by a silver chain.

“Okay. But why fur?”

“It’s more comfortable. See?”

Before he could react, she snapped one cuff around a pole on the display and another around his right wrist.

“Hey!” He struggled against the restraint. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just showing you how comfortable they are.” Her innocent smile failed to mask the evil gleam in her eye.

He refused to give her the satisfaction of thinking she’d bested him. He studied his cuffed wrist. The fur against his skin was cool and silky. “People actually think this is sexy?”

“It’s not the cuffs themselves that are so sexy. It’s the element of danger.” She moved closer, her voice softer, confiding. “Of risk. Of having to trust your partner completely.”

She was so close now he could see each individual eyelash, and the smattering of freckles beneath the powder on her nose. He held his breath, half-afraid she’d hear the hammering of his heart and know how she’d affected him.

“Here. You look uncomfortable.” She grasped the knot of his tie and tugged it loose, then began to loosen the buttons of his shirt. She moved slowly, focused on the task, her fingers lightly grazing his skin as she parted the starched cotton.

He grabbed her wrist with his free hand. “What are you doing?” His gaze met hers, the blue depths of her eyes pulling him in even as his mind warned him to keep his distance. “Get me out of here before someone comes along and sees us.” His voice was tight and husky, the voice of a stranger.

“Oh, no one’s paying any attention to us.” Her lips curved in a slow smile. “I thought you wanted to understand the appeal.”

She stepped back, just out of his reach, and picked up a small whip, with a fringed leather tassel at the tip. “The cuffs are like this cat-o’-nine-tails. It’s not really designed to harm.” She flicked it across his chest, the tassel barely brushing against him. “You can use it to tickle. Or perhaps more firmly.” She wielded the whip with more force this time, though still barely grazing him. “The idea is to heighten sensation.”

All thought of his surroundings faded as he watched her. His skin felt feverish, his nerves raw, tingling with awareness of her—of the smooth skin of her arms brushing him as she reached for something on a shelf, of the curve of her breast outlined by the clinging knit of her sleeveless top, of the bottomless blue of her eyes as she watched him.

He reminded himself she was doing this on purpose. She was deliberately trying to make him feel vulnerable. Trying to prove some point. He wouldn’t be swayed so easily. He forced a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. “Do you always break in new bosses this way?”

“I thought you wanted to understand.” She trailed the whip across his throat, tickling, teasing, stealing breath and coherent thought. “To see what it is that attracts people to these things.”

“Are you into this kind of thing? Bondage?” Heat pooled in his groin and desire lent an edginess to his voice.

She stroked the handle of the whip down her throat, a half smile on her full lips. He bit back a groan, determined to maintain control. “Maybe.” She leaned closer, engulfing him in the scent of jasmine. “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? The experience?”

He reminded himself that they were not alone. At any moment now, someone might come down the aisle and wonder what was going on. It was important to keep his cool. Retain his dignity. And to not let Jill know she was getting to him. “I think you’ve made your point,” he said, his voice perfectly even, emotionless.

“No. I’ve only just begun.” She smiled, a secret, seductive look.

“I can see this is getting out of hand.” He struggled once more to free his wrist from the cuff. But underneath the fur was solid steel. He was held fast.

“It’s about so much more than sight. That’s why sometimes people use blindfolds. To heighten the other senses.” She took a black satin blindfold from the shelf and brushed it down his cheek. He glared at her, warning her she was taking this too far.

Still smiling, she laid aside the blindfold and reached for a small red bottle. “The sense of smell is important.” She opened a bottle and held it under his nose. A spicy fragrance replaced the aroma of jasmine.

“Or taste.” She touched her finger to his lips and he tasted cinnamon.

“And hearing.” She swished the whip past his ear. He flinched, even as heat coursed through him.

“Touch.” She trailed the whip down the center of his chest, the fringes dragging across his chest hair, tugging gently.

He fought to control his breathing, even as his body strained toward her. He couldn’t remember wanting a woman more—needing her with an urgency that defied logic. If he wasn’t held fast by the cuffs, he might have pulled her down right there in the aisle. He tried to read the expression in her eyes. Is that what she wanted, too, or was she only teasing him? Getting back at him for wanting to close the store?

“What about you?” he demanded. “What do you want?”

She blinked, and stepped back. “Wh…what do you mean?”

“Is sex the main goal for you? The sensual experience? Or do you want something more?”

She turned away, and replaced the whip on its hook. “I don’t see why that should matter to you.”

Her defensive tone told him more than the words themselves. “It does matter, doesn’t it?” he said softly. “There has to be a connection with that other person. If you don’t have that, everything else is just…make-believe.”

“Whoever said there was anything wrong with make-believe?” With one quick movement, she released him. She snatched up the cuffs and replaced them on the pegboard. “Not every encounter is life changing,” she said.

He rubbed his wrists and watched her as she busied herself moving things about on the display. Her head was bent, the hair parted on either side of her neck to reveal a triangle of white flesh. He fought the urge to kiss her there. “I think we’re all looking for the life-changing encounters,” he said. “Even those of us who don’t want to admit it.”

With difficulty, he turned and walked away, shaken by what had just happened, but determined not to show it. What did it mean that a woman he scarcely knew could touch him so? Was it the novelty of the experience, the charged atmosphere of this place? Or something more? Something that threatened to unman him, to destroy the control he’d worked so long to perfect?

“I SAW WHAT YOU DID.” Sid’s disapproving tone stopped Jill as she walked past the front counter after the noon rush had subsided.

“What are you talking about?” She pretended ignorance.

“I saw you and Mitch back there.” He nodded at the security mirror angled toward the corner.

She flushed. She’d forgotten about that mirror. “He wanted to know what the handcuffs were for, so I showed him.” She trailed her hand along the edge of the counter, avoiding Sid’s eyes.

“You did a lot more than that.”

And might have done more if they’d been alone. “So?”

“So, haven’t you ever heard of sexual harassment? He could sue you!”

She laughed. “And tell a whole courtroom that I tied him up and teased him with a whip? I don’t think so.” She smiled, remembering the raw desire in his eyes. “Besides, I think he liked it.”

“Liked it or not, you could end up in big trouble playing games like that.”

“Oh, Sid, you worry too much. It was all in fun.”

“It looked deadly serious from here. In fact, I’d say you’re lucky looks can’t kill, or you’d be laid out in the back room right now.”

“I’m still standing, aren’t I?” She leaned back against the counter, edgy with frustrated desire. The problem with a slow seduction was that Mitch wasn’t the only one left aroused and unsatisfied. “Besides, what have I got to lose? If I can convince Mitch to keep this place open, you and I get to keep our jobs. If I don’t, well then I’m out the door anyway, so I might as well try.”

“But seducing the boss—it’s a crazy idea!”

She laughed. “Unconventional maybe. Smart even. But not crazy.”

“It is crazy. And it won’t work. You heard him yesterday—his mind is made up.”

“People can change their minds. Even men.”

“Not men like him.”

“I guess you’re an expert on change, Mr. How-Many-Girlfriends-Is-It-This-Week?”

He stuck out his lower lip. “I have every intention of being faithful, as soon as I find the right woman.”

“So you’re saying the right woman will convince you to change your tomcat ways?”

He nodded. “When I’ve found the right woman, I won’t need anyone else.”

She laughed. “That’s what I love about you, you’re such a romantic.”

His expression relaxed. “Speak for yourself, Miss I-Want-To-Be-Swept-Away-By-A-Knight-In-Shining-Armor.”

“That’s a pirate. I want to be swept away by a pirate.”

“Whatever. I don’t think Mitch Landry has ever been within sight of a sailing ship.”

“Don’t be so sure. My point is, if the right woman can make you mend your ways, then the right woman can make Mitch Landry change his mind about closing Just 4 Play.”

“And you think you’re the right woman?”

“Let’s just say I’m a woman who always gets her man.”

“Hmm. Well, if I were a betting man, I’d put my money on the man getting you. I think you’re in over your head this time, Jilly girl.”

She shook her head and walked away, ignoring the doubts nudging at her. For a moment with Mitch, she’d almost forgotten the rules of the game. Rules she’d established. Fun was the object. A mutually satisfying, sensual experience. A good time had by all. No need for messy complications.

Mitch’s talk of “connections” and “life-changing experiences” had shaken her. Sure, those things were for some people, but not for her. What did Mitch know? Maybe he thought he’d seen some secret longing in her eyes, but he was wrong. She was attracted to his body. To his mind, even. But that was as far it went. Anything else was just his imagination.

5

MITCH SAT IN HIS CAR, trying to calm nerves that felt as if they’d been filed with sandpaper, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so vulnerable and out of control, so exposed while fully clothed, or so incredibly aroused.

It was more than being caught off guard and tied up. More than the props Jill had used in her little “product demonstration,” more even than the admitted excitement of knowing that at any moment, they might be discovered.

No, something about Jill herself made his temperature rise and his mind lose track of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. Something in the contrast between her innocent looks and her seductive words fired every synapse and sent common sense running for cover. The way she made him feel was based on instinct, not reason. The thought that anyone could reduce him to that sent a new tremor through him.

“Damn it, this is crazy!” He hit the steering wheel hard with the heel of his hand. He wasn’t some pimply teenager ruled by hormones. He was a businessman—and he had no business getting involved with a woman he scarcely knew. A woman who had the power to distract him so much.

Thwarted desire replaced by a more garden-variety frustration filled him as he started the car and pulled out into traffic. He’d intended to head over to Qdoba for lunch, but he found himself driving up University Hill, toward the only apartment building he still owned, where his sister, Meg, lived with another premed student.

Meg answered the door dressed in scrubs, holding a can of soup in one hand. “Hey, Mitch!” She stood on tiptoe to hug him, then stepped back and held up the can. “You’re just in time for lunch.”

“How about I take you out instead?”

She tossed the can over her shoulder. It landed on the sofa and bounced twice before coming to rest against a pillow. “Let me put my shoes on and you’ve got a date.”

Fifteen minutes later, they sipped iced tea on the patio at Qdoba. “So what’s up?” Meg asked, reaching for a tortilla chip.

“Nothing’s up.” He rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. “I remembered you don’t have classes Tuesday and Thursday mornings and I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

She shook her head. “Since when do you leave work in the middle of the day to socialize? Especially with your sister?”

He pushed the salt and pepper aside and contemplated his hands, palms down in front of him on the table. They were plain, unremarkable hands, no rings, nails clean and neatly filed. No scars or calluses. Hands with no character at all.

“Earth to Mitch.” Meg snapped her fingers under his nose. “C’mon, what’s up? You look like you lost your best friend.”

He sighed and looked up at her. Strands of her dark curly hair fluttered in the breeze from the ceiling fan overhead. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she looked about sixteen. He couldn’t imagine her ever delivering a baby or performing surgery on anyone.

She looked like their mother—a small, helpless woman. Except Meg wasn’t helpless. She pointed a tortilla chip at him. “You might as well tell me, ’cause you know I’m going to worm it out of you, or else I’ll nose around behind your back until I find out everything. You can’t keep secrets from me, big brother.”

“Did you know Uncle Grif funded a foundation to educate the public about mental illness? And he named it after Mother.”

“I think I remember hearing something like that. Why?”

He sat back, shoulders slumped. “I just found out. I never knew that about him. Why would he do something like that?”

“I think he had a soft spot for Mama. And I know she was fond of him. She always looked forward to his visits when she was in the hospital.”

“I always thought he was just a loudmouthed playboy who spent all his money on gin, girls and golf.”

She tilted her head to one side, her expression sympathetic. “And now you’re beating yourself up because you were wrong.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Hey it’s okay. Even you are allowed to screw up sometimes. It proves you’re human, like the rest of us.”

“Great bedside manner, Doc. I feel all better now.”

“You’ll get over it. Grif must not have held it against you, since he left you his business.”

A business Mitch hadn’t even known existed until the will had been read. Maybe this was Grif’s way of having the last word.

Their lunch arrived and conversation stalled as they focused on their burritos. Mitch had found that even big problems looked smaller when considered in the aftermath of any meal that included plenty of hot sauce and melted cheese.

“So how did you find out about the mental health foundation?” Meg asked just as he’d taken a bite of burrito.

He swallowed and reached for his tea. “I was going through his files at…at the business he left me.”

“Oh, yes. The mysterious business.” She speared a forkful of beans. “Just what is this business, anyway?”

“Nothing important.” He ignored the scowl she sent his way and poured hot sauce onto his plate. “I’m going to close it and open a restaurant on the site.”

Meg shrugged. “Sounds like a lot of work to me, but you’re the big businessman.”

He looked away, pretending great interest in his meal. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake with this restaurant. He’d had the idea for over a year now, ever since he first met Chef Ping. When he found out Uncle Grif had left him a prime piece of downtown real estate, it had seemed like a sign he should go ahead with the project. Now he wondered…

“How’s Lana?”

“Lana?” He looked up, startled. “Uh…she’s okay. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I just haven’t heard you say much about her lately. I wondered if you were still seeing each other.”

“We’re still seeing each other.” More or less.

“I’ve heard more enthusiasm for the daily special at the student union. Has some of the bloom worn off the romance?”

“Why would you say that?” He stabbed at a piece of tortilla. “Just because I’m not raving about her every minute doesn’t mean I don’t want to continue dating her. A relationship doesn’t have to have fireworks all the time.” He scowled at her. “There’s more to life than sex, you know.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there.” She put up her hands. “Who said anything about sex?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head. “No, if you and Lana are having problems in the bedroom, I don’t want to know.” She dunked a chip in hot sauce. “But you might want to think about seeing other people for a while. I mean, I’ll admit I’m prejudiced, but I think you’ve got a lot to offer a woman, and I’m not sure Lana really appreciates you.”

He was trying to come up with a suitable retort when his phone rang. Still frowning at his sister, he jerked the phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Hi, uh, Mitch? This is Sid.” The manager’s voice sounded strained. “Uh, sorry to bother you, but you need to get back to the store, right away.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Mitch’s stomach clenched. Had they been robbed? Was some fundamentalist group staging a protest?

“I’m not sure. Uh…there’s this woman here. And uh…she keeps asking for you.” He lowered his voice. “She’s kind of upset.”

“Oh, hell.”

“What is it?” Meg leaned toward him, her eyes questioning. “Is everything all right?”

He covered the phone with his hand. “It’s the manager at Uncle Grif’s store. There’s a woman there demanding to see me.” He put the phone to his ear again. “What does she want?”

“I don’t know. Uh…she says her name is Lana. Lana Montgomery.”

MEG HAD HEARD OF PEOPLE turning green, but she’d never actually seen it before—until now. Actually, Mitch’s face went through an alarming array of colors, from ashy-white to fiery-red, before settling on this green-tinted phase. He snapped the phone shut and shoved up from the table so hard his chair almost fell over behind him. He grabbed the chair, saving it from crashing to the floor and signaled the waiter for their check. “I have to go,” he croaked.

Meg tossed aside her napkin and stood also. “I’ll go with you.”

He shook his head. “No. You stay here and finish eating.” He tossed a twenty on the table and headed toward the door.

She followed. He stopped at the exit and glared at her. “Meg, you can’t come with me.”

She ignored him and headed for his car. He hurried after her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The minute he unlocked the car, she opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “Something’s going on and I intend to find out what it is,” she said.

He fit the key into the ignition and scowled at her. “Get out of this car.”

She fastened her seat belt and returned the scowl. “Make me.”

He growled and started the car. “All right. But you’re staying in the car.”

She turned to look out of the window so he wouldn’t see her smile. Men were so predictable. Even her brother.

Mitch negotiated Boulder traffic with reckless speed, and screeched to a halt in a No Parking zone in front of a pink brick building. Meg looked up at the marquee over the building’s door. Just 4 Play. Her smile broadened. She’d heard of this place. In fact, one of her girlfriends had recommended it. When Mitch jumped out of the car and went inside, she laughed out loud. So this was his secret inheritance. Oh, that was rich. Her straight-arrow brother had been saddled with a sex shop. This she had to see.

When she walked through the door, Mitch was leaning over the counter, deep in conversation with a petite blonde. The blonde pointed toward the back and he took off.

Meg walked over to the counter and picked up a penis-shaped key chain. Now there was a conversation starter. “May I help you?” the blonde asked.

She laid aside the key chain. “I’m Meg Landry. Mitch’s sister. We were having lunch when you called.”

“Oh, I didn’t call. The manager, Sid, did.” She held out her hand. “I’m Jill Sheldon.”

They shook hands. Meg looked around, at the candy-colored condoms, the blowup dolls, massage oils, how-to books and what looked like a belly dancer costume. Her grin widened. Oh brother, what are you into now? She turned to Jill. “So what’s going on? Why did Mitch rush over here in the middle of lunch?”

Jill made a face. “A woman came in here this afternoon, took one look around and started hollering for Mitch.”

“A woman? Who?”

“One of those society types. You know, fancy suit, fancy hair, fancy attitude.” Jill’s expression said Miss Fancy had left her singularly unimpressed. “She said her name was Lana Montgomery.”

Meg shaped her mouth into a perfect O. “I take it Mitch hadn’t gotten around to telling her about this place.”

Jill leaned across the counter, ready to dish dirt. “Who is she?”

“Mitch’s girlfriend. Or maybe ex-girlfriend now.” She picked up a jar of body paint and studied the list of suggested uses. “Something tells me Lana’s not the type to approve of a place like this.”

Jill straightened. “I suppose she thinks there’s something wrong with healthy sexuality. With helping people to improve their relationships and learn about their bodies—”

“Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t approve.” Meg set aside the body paint. “To tell the truth, Lana’s always struck me as somebody laced up a little too tight.”

Jill glanced toward the closed office door. “Like Mitch.”

“Well, yeah, big brother can be a little…intense. But he’s really a great guy.”

Jill raised one eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be a little biased, would you?”

She grinned. “Not at all.” She nodded toward the office. “So what happened before I got here?”

“Sid took this Lana chick back to the office. I think he was going to fix her some tea. If we’re lucky, he slipped a tranquilizer into it.”

“That would probably help.” She walked over to a vibrator display and picked up a bright green model. No sense letting this shopping opportunity go to waste. “I’ve been thinking about getting one of these. What would you recommend?”

“We have some really nice models.” Jill emerged from behind the counter and joined her at the display. “We have every color, size and shape you can think of.” She began opening drawers and taking out boxes. “Somewhere in here is your perfect BOB.”

Meg picked up a bright purple model. “Bob?”

“Your battery operated boyfriend.” She glanced toward the office door. “Let me tell you, sometimes they’re a lot less trouble than the real thing.”

MITCH DIDN’T HAVE TIME to worry about Meg right now. He had to deal with Lana. What the hell was she doing here? How had she found out about the place? And what was he supposed to do with her now?

He paused outside the office door and forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. She was probably upset; fine, he had seen her upset before and he could deal with that. The main thing was to remain calm. After all, he’d done nothing to be ashamed of.

He grasped the doorknob firmly and shoved open the door, a placating speech already forming in his mind. But the scene before him froze him in his tracks.

Lana and Sid sat side by side in front of the desk. Sid’s head was leaned toward Lana, an earnest expression on his face as he listened to her pour out some tale of woe, his pink Mohawk almost touching her perfectly coifed hair. The teacup looked like something from a child’s toy tea set in his large hand.

“Thank you for being so understanding, Sid,” Lana was saying.

Mitch made a strangled noise in his throat and they both looked up. Lana tensed and her expression grew stormy. “Mitch, how could you!”

He walked into the room and leaned against the desk, his pose deliberately casual. “How could I what?”

Two lines made a deep V between her brows and her mouth puckered in an expression of distaste. “How could you run a…a…smut shop?”

“We prefer to think of ourselves as purveyors of accessories to enhance people’s pleasure and well-being.” Sid’s tongue-stud clacked against his teeth, giving him a slight lisp.

Lana stared at him, her mouth going slack. A rosy flush crept up her neck. “Um, yes.”

She turned back to Mitch. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d react like this. Besides, I intend to close the place down and open a restaurant.”

Sid looked pained. “I told her.” He rescued her teacup from her hand. “Let me get you some more tea.”

“I don’t want more tea.” She clenched her fists in her lap. “I want an explanation.”

Why hadn’t he noticed before how shrewish she could be? He frowned. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business, Lana.”

“How can you say that? Don’t you realize I have a reputation in town? What will people think when they find out the man I’m dating owns a place like this?”

The man I’m dating. Was that all he was to her? Someone to escort her to dinner or to the theater, nothing more? “Maybe they’d think you were lucky,” he said, only half-joking.

Sid brought more tea. “Lots of respectable people shop here,” he said. His expression was grave as he bent over Lana. “The mayor’s wife has even been here before.”

Lana’s eyes widened as she accepted the teacup. A trembling attempt at a smile even rose to her lips. “You’ve been so kind,” she said, her voice breathy.

Sid ducked his head, looking humble—or as humble as a six-foot-plus tattooed and pierced man in leather can look. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

Lana turned back to Mitch, her smile vanished. “This is why you’ve been talking about…about sex and experimenting and being bored.”

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. It was either that or give in to the temptation to shake some sense into her. “I was only suggesting we had gotten into a rut.”

“Well…fine. If that’s what you want then…fine.” She set down her cup so hard tea sloshed onto the desk. “You can find someone else to play your…your sex games.” She grabbed up her purse and stormed out.

“Lana, wait…”

“I’ll just make sure she’s okay.” Sid took off after her.

Mitch crossed his arms and stared at the vacant doorway. He should have been the one to go after Lana, but he couldn’t bring himself to move a muscle. Whatever they’d had between them was over now. The only emotion he could muster was relief.

He sighed and straightened. That took care of Lana—now what to do about Meg? He had little hope she’d actually stayed in the car. Even as a toddler, she’d never minded very well.

He spotted her with Jill on the other side of the store and made his way over to them. “What are you doing in here?” he asked.

She held up a large purple vibrator. “I had some shopping to do.” She pressed a button and the purple plastic penis waggled like a hula dancer. “Isn’t it cute?”

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