It was baffling.
“Go away,” she whispered.
“And ignore the pretty lady’s question?” he whispered back and shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my gentlemanly reputation.”
Harper snorted and he frowned. An honest to goodness frown, as if her reaction irritated him.
“I know the line intimately,” he said, stepping completely into the room and grazing Harper’s hip with his hand as he did it, before addressing Chantel like a gentleman. What a load of BS. “Although I’m partial to the brighter, party colors.”
“Party colors?” Chantel asked, and Adam flashed one of his trademark grins she’d seen him use many a time on many a woman—including her. Last Friday.
It was clear Chantel, with her big-city sex appeal and I-do-yoga body, was Adam’s type. If Harper didn’t intervene, Adam would likely charm Chantel right out of this meeting and into his bed. Not that she cared who he took to his bed, as long as it didn’t impact her plan.
“He is referring to the Moulin Rouge set,” Harper said, poking him in the back—hard. “Adam, this is Chantel Larue from Lulu Allure.” Harper gave Adam her most intimidating look, the one she used on her students when they needed to keep their hands to themselves, then plastered a smile on her face and turned to Chantel. “Chantel, this is Adam.”
“Would you like some wine?” Chantel offered, pointing to the flight Harper had bought specifically to impress her. Not Adam.
“Nah, I’ve got my coffee,” he said, and instead of behaving, he helped himself to a seat—her seat—leaning back as if he were right at home. Which, surrounded by women’s panties and female fantasies, he probably was. “And I’d go with the Parisian peek-a-boos. In fact, I was thinking of picking some up and I wanted to see if Harper could show me her favorites.”
The only favorite Harper was going to show him was her favorite finger. But since this was a meeting, and being professional was of utmost importance, she decided letting her bird fly would have to wait. “I’m a little busy with Chantel right now, but if you’d be so sweet as to wait outside—”
“Ah, but sweet is my specialty.”
Didn’t she know it. And like sugar, he had addictive qualities that were unexplainable.
“You shop here?” Chantel asked, and the genuine surprise that a man like Adam would buy presents for his girlfriend here had Harper snapping back to what was important: her grandma’s shop.
“All the time.”
“Really?” Chantel made a note in her little red journal. “Besides the Moulin Rouge, what sparks your interest?”
Harper held her breath, waiting to see just how bad Adam’s answer would affect her ability to spin this situation. The amusement in his eyes as they roamed around the room at the garments, then over her body, told Harper it was going to be a good one. Only instead of making some offhanded remark about the sex toys in back, he picked up a chocolate-dipped strawberry and said, “I like everything Harper has laid out today. She has a good eye.”
Ignoring the way her thighs tingled, she cleared her throat and in her most professional voice said, “Thank you.”
“But what has me most interested is whatever she’s got on under that dress.”
Harper felt her cheeks flush—and not just the ones on her face.
“What are you wearing?” Chantel asked, as if this were a normal way to sell lingerie.
“Excuse me?”
“I wondered too,” Chantel said. “Do you mind?”
Adam smiled. “Of course she wouldn’t. Would you, sunshine?”
Harper secretly sent Adam a death glare, because, poof, just like that, what little spotlight she’d created with her dress and remodel vanished.
Adam had come with his alluring charm and bigger-than-life persona and made Harper an insignificant part of the meeting. Of her own meeting.
“No, of course not,” Harper said diplomatically. “All the employees wear the merchandise. Today I have on the Honeysuckle demi-cup and matching boy-shorts from your summer line.”
“Honeysuckle.” Adam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Is it lace like the one you had on the other night that made your boobs—”
“Could you excuse us for a moment?” Not waiting for a response, Harper took Adam by the arm and yanked him out of the chair—not letting go until she led him out of the room.
She marched through the store and onto the sidewalk, her patience reaching nuclear levels, as he slowly strode out the door behind her. God forbid the man actually move at a normal pace. Not Adam.