Chasing Temptation by Payton Lane Page B

in his shoulders flexed. Her mind could have been playing tricks on her, but a droplet of sweat rolled down his neck, down, down only to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. It was an illusion because he wore a shirt. More or less. One of those excuses for a tank top that did little to hide his muscled physique. Nathan looked lickable. Just biteable. Lifelong embarrassment or not, she was going to buy a showerhead at the end of the day.
    But she couldn't tell him that, or even show the urge on her face. So she crossed her arms and marched toward him.
    She threw at him, “What do you think you're doing?”
    “Taking the next step to put you out of business.” He climbed into a truck filled with boxes.
    Lynne narrowed her eyes and perused farther into the truck. She knew silk garment bags when she saw them, even from ten paces.
    He hopped out of the truck, forcing her to step back. She wouldn't touch him. Couldn't touch him, because the action was off-limits. It was a bad idea and a number of other things her mind couldn't think up at the moment. Thankfully his large, wide palms were cupping a box, making the point of them touching moot. Except the flex of muscle in his forearms made her mind wander and imagine him cupping her ass in the same way.
    Oh, good God.
    “You can help.” He smiled and went toward the back of his shop.
    The suggestion came out too breezy. Was this a trick? Payback to get her to work for him? No. Nathan had come into her store on day one and told her he planned to sup on all the local virgins' blood. And, of course, buy her store. He played this game too straight for underhanded. Given she had tricked him into helping her the other day, with the icing of him seeing her tally up sales, a few boxes wouldn't hurt. She grabbed one and followed him in.
    Holy crap .
    The man wasn't playing nice anymore. A few boxes her foot. The stock room that just a few days ago looked anorexic now had a nice influx of steroids. She placed the box down and faced the smirk she knew would be pulling at the corner of Nathan's mouth.
    Ah, there it was.
    “Well,” she bit out, “I wish you the best of luck.” And that you find the nearest bridge to trip and fall from.
    He crossed his arms. Her eyes followed the movement, watched the flex of muscle in his forearms. She quickly met his gaze again.
    “Now, that's not being a good sport,” he said.
    “What? I didn't say anything but best of luck.”
    “That's not what your tone said.”
    “My tone speaks now?”
    “So does your face. You wear all your thoughts and emotions on that oval-shaped face of yours. You should watch that around me. I will use it to my advantage.”
    She mimicked his stance. “You keep telling me how big and bad you are; I'm starting to think it's nothing but a bluff. I'm sure all the stores you brought over to the dark side basically wanted some bigwig to buy them.”
    “True, but there were a few that put up a fight.”
    “Yeah, yeah, I know. Hit the web and search you.”
    He pointed at her face. “See that there.” He moved forward and pointed to her forehead. “Was fear.”
    She resisted the urge to rub her forehead because, dammit, she was afraid. He was so sure of everything. Sure she would lose. So sure she'd give in and lose hope. And if she did? If she couldn't hurdle over this obstacle, her best friend's store would mean nothing but dollar signs.
    Her word would mean nothing. All her hard work, flushed down the drain once adversity showed its face. She might as well have married the man her parents chose and become a testament that individualism was a dream.
    Lynne lifted her chin. “See that there.” She moved forward, pointed to his chest. “Is empty.”
    He flinched. Mr. All Business flinched at the comment. She wanted to take the words back. She didn't play dirty. That was her old life and not even hers, but her father's.
    Nathan's jaw flexed for a moment. “I think it's best if we come up with some