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“Second,” he said, “you absolutely did not deserve—or encourage—what happened to you. I saw you hurry inside to get away from them and, Ginger, you’ve never dressed provocatively, invitin’ that kind of attention.”
He spoke the truth. She wore a navy skirt with a respectable hem, just above the knees, and a short-sleeved, button-down satin blouse in ecru. The heels on her comfortable shoes, which matched the color of her skirt, were low and sensible, since she stood most of the day.
“Finally,” Ryan concluded, “who is my Aunt Lydia to pass judgment on you or the lingerie you sell?”
She gaped. Never in a million years would she have expected Ryan Bain to say such a thing.
He chuckled at her startled expression and added, “I’m not saying anything bad about her, mind you. I just think, you know…to each his—or her—own. Live and let live. That sort of thing.”
Ginger nearly melted into her sensible pumps. “Wow,” she said, “that’s very open-minded of you.”
“Don’t go lumping me into the self-righteous group, darlin’. I’m no troublemaker, but I’ve committed my fair share of sins. I’m not one to cast stones.” He winked playfully at her and her nipples tightened behind her lacy bra at the intimate gesture.
She’d been the one to misjudge him.
“So you don’t find my store offensive?” she ventured.
“Not at all. I don’t know what half of this stuff is, but I think every woman should wear lingerie.”
She laughed, the tightness in her chest loosening. “Typical red-blooded male.”
His eyes blazed as he asked, “Were you expecting something different?”
Ginger admitted, “Considering you lived with Jonathan and Lydia after your parents died, and the fact you went to a Christian college to study ministry…”
His jaw clenched briefly. He said, “I chose a different path after I left Wilder.” He didn’t elaborate further. Rather, he changed the subject back to what had happened to her. “I hear where you’re coming from, Ginger. And I don’t want to cause problems for you. I’ll see what I can do when I speak with the sheriff.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
“Do you have a bag I can put the evidence in?”
“Sure.” After replacing the receiver on its base, she rounded the desk and pulled out one of the small, plain bags she used for massage oils, lubricants and body paint before placing them in the larger, red shopper’s bags embossed with her boutique’s discreet and simple name, Ginger’s, in gold print.
Ryan carefully collected the paper sack and can and placed them in the bag, then said, “How about you lock up and I’ll walk you to your car?”
She suddenly remembered she was due at dinner with her friends. Stealing a glance at the grandfather clock her grandfather, ironically, had left her when he’d passed a few years ago, she swore under her breath. Then pressed two fingers to her lips as she let out a little eep.
“Sorry about that.”
Ryan grinned. “Stop thinking of me as some goody two shoes.”
In truth, it really was difficult to consider him in those terms. He seemed to be a man who’d been around the block a time or two and knew what he was doing in the bedroom. The thought sent a titillating thrill down her spine.
She said, “I’m late for dinner at Pietro’s with friends.” For a fleeting moment, she contemplated asking him if he’d like to join them. But it was Friday night and she knew Lydia and Jonathan would be at the popular restaurant.
Ginger had experienced enough trauma for one day. She didn’t need Lydia burning a hole in her head during dinner if she saw her with Ryan. Nor could she stomach the sting of rejection if he turned her down.
Offering an arm to her in a gallant way, he said, “I’ll walk you to the restaurant. It’s on the way to the sheriff’s office.”
She grabbed her purse, set the deadbolt on the door and strolled casually with Ryan down the sparsely populated sidewalk. Her arm was linked with his, her hand on his rock-hard biceps. The feel of his rigid muscles beneath her fingers warmed her insides. And damn, did he smell good. Musky and masculine. Expensive cologne mixed with male heat.
He made her clit tingle and kept her in a constant state of arousal without doing a thing.
To divert her attention from the erotic—and still so bad and wrong—effect he had on her, she said, “You didn’t even break a sweat when you tackled that guy.”
“I’ve had some training.” Glancing down at her, he added, “I could teach you a few moves, if you want.”
She’d never needed to defend herself physically in a small, quiet town such as this, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to pick up a few tips. Besides, it was an excuse to spend more time with Ryan.
