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"Your husband will never look at ballroom dancing the same way," she promised. "But remember what I said. Men tend to think the highest setting is the best one right away. Tell him it's like a dance. You ease into it, twirl and spin, and work up to the crescendo."
Mrs. Grady chuckled. "You and Mr. Scott must be working as a team. He keeps the men busy buying tools and manly things while we ladies come over here and decide how to reward them for an afternoon of home improvement."
"Nothing stokes a woman's libido like a man who can fix things," Madison agreed, knowing her eyes were twinkling. "As far as my arrangement with Mr. Scott, we can't disclose the details of our frequent buyer reward program."
"I've seen Mr. Scott," Mrs. Grady responded. "Lucky you."
Madison had to laugh at that. When Mrs. Grady entered the shop, she'd been standoffish and stiff, killing time rather than seriously shopping. But now she held a bag full of items and a warm smile, and was teasing Madison in a scandalous way she wouldn't have expected from the woman at all.
Alice had once said the more she gave her customers, the more they gave back. Madison hadn't been sure of her meaning, but she was starting to get it. On that same note, Sam, Geoff and Chris had returned earlier in the week. It was clear they'd made substantial strides together, from the easy, sensual touches they exchanged when they were looking at things. Geoff had taken the reins in more ways than one, and Chris and Sam's eyes clung to his every movement as he went to the Dungeon Room and picked out the soft flogger, eight sets of Velcro cuffs, and one of the Build-It-Yourself bondage equipment books that sent him directly to the hardware store afterward. She'd already accused Logan of having Alice plant those there specifically to drum up business for him, and he hadn't denied it.
Sam had given her a big smile and a mouthed thank you as her two lovers escorted her out of Madison's store, carrying armloads of merchandise. Things they truly wanted, not something bought on the spur of the moment, based on wishful thinking and unrealized fantasies.
As Mrs. Grady departed to recover Mr. Grady from Logan's store, Madison glanced at the clock. Not that it was really necessary. Tonight was movie night, and the anticipation that had been tingling under her breastbone since breakfast grew stronger with every passing hour.
She was glad she'd let some time pass, wanting to slow things down, see how things evened out after their first volatile night together. Troy had remained flirtatious and friendly. Logan was attentive and helpful as well, both of them touching base with her at least once during each workday. They'd come over after hours one night to help her stabilize a shelf when she discovered its anchors were loose in the wall. The two men had worked together with distracting casualness, all flexing muscle and haunch, exchanging the typical male banter as they moved in sync with one another.
When they were done, Troy had to get to an evening class and Logan had excused himself as well, saying he had a demonstration to do at the local dungeon. He hadn't extended the invitation to her to attend. Maybe because he was respecting her need for space. He picked up on cues better than any male she'd ever met. That didn't mean he was easily swayed from his own desires, however. She already knew if he wanted his own way, a woman would have to have superhuman fortitude to back him down. It was part of the reason she'd taken the week, to marshal her defenses, give herself half a chance to hold her own. The way his gaze lingered on her suggested he was anything but detached from the idea of pursuit; merely biding his time.
It was closing time. She locked the front door, closed out the register. When she emerged from the back entrance, she discovered Logan was bringing out the trash. The chance encounter gave her a surge of foolish pleasure. As he straightened, he smiled at her, making her think he reciprocated that.
"Mrs. Grady gave her husband a glimpse into her pink shopping bag. He almost bought flooring nails instead of wood screws."
"A sure sign of male distraction," she agreed, lips twitching. When he leaned against the wall, hooking a finger into his jeans pocket, she eased a little closer. "So how was the demonstration the other night?"
"It went well. It was about the proper use and care of whips."
"Who did you use as your victim, if Troy wasn't there to eagerly volunteer?"
His lazy gaze slid over her face, to her throat, her breasts, her hips. He didn't make any pretense of not looking where he wanted to look, any time he wanted to do so. Rather than finding it offensive, she found it incredibly stimulating. "Stop that," she said for form's sake. "You're trying to make me forget the question."
"Nope. I just don't divide my attention when I'm enjoying a good long look at you. That's a new outfit."
She'd decided to borrow from her inventory today, wearing a pleather zippered vest that molded to her upper body and offered deep cleavage. Each day she was a little more confident and daring in her clothing choices. She'd put the vest together with latex leggings and calf boots. To ensure she didn't scare away the Mrs. Gradys of the world, she'd worn a ruffled scarf that screened the cleavage and a short skirt that didn't show how the latex molded her ass and the crease of her sex. As a result of being the live model, she'd sold a couple versions of the outfit today. She was already planning future ensembles to inspire more sales.
"You like it?"
"I like anything you wear. But I'd like it better without the scarf and the skirt." His gaze swept over them, as if he already knew how revealing the vest and latex were without the outer layers. "A private viewing. It's hard enough hearing how the men talk about you after they leave their wives or girlfriends at your store."
"Jealous?"
"Make a move toward any of them and you'll find out," he said. Her heart pattered a little higher in her throat. "Take off the scarf."
Even out here, in the late afternoon sunshine, he could make her feel as if the walls closed in, holding her still for him. "You still haven't answered my question," she hedged, to see if she could resist him. Or what he would do if she did.
"What was the question?"
He was teasing her. Even so, she sniffed, indulged him. "Who helped you do the demo at the club?"
"One of the staff subs. A pretty blonde, all naked and oiled up so she was slippery to the touch." He caught the ends of the scarf before she could draw back. "And she still didn't make me half as hard as you did, showing up all big-eyed and unsure, wondering what I might do to Troy . . . and you."
"You're too overwhelming," she complained. Thanks to the tug on the scarf, their bodies had barely a hand's span between them. "Overwhelming men tend to be unreliable."
"No. The men you've known tend to be unreliable. I'm different. Take it off."
He could take it off himself, but her obeying was part of what was spiraling between them. She didn't want to analyze how she understood that or why she removed it the way she did, pulling it slowly from her throat, lifting her chin as the silk-cotton blend caressed her skin. When she had it in both hands, lowered to her waist, he hooked the tab of the zipper in the vest, tugged it down enough so the cleavage became deeper, revealing the lace joining point of the black bra beneath. He slid his knuckles into that valley, then up to follow her throat, tip up her chin. His face was close enough to make the possibility of being kissed excruciatingly inevitable. She played with a strand of his hair that had come loose from where he'd tied it back. "Have you always worn it long?"
"No." His breath smelled like the free wintergreen mints he kept by his cash register. "Alice wanted me to grow it out long for you. She said you thought only a certain man could carry that off, but when he did, you really liked it. She convinced me I could carry it off. When it was too short to be tied back, but long enough to be in my way, she'd come over, have me sit on a stool and brush it back, run her fingers through it, tell me it was a crime for a man to have hair like that."
