So what was he doing here? She’d walked out of The Rotten Apple three nights ago without a second glance in his direction. He’d tried to flirt with her, but she’d pulled away from him.
He’d seen something in her eyes, the way she held her breath whenever he was close. Had he only been imagining those reactions?
But hell, no guts, no glory. He wanted this woman and he suspected he was going to have to…he grimaced at the very thought…”date” her. He was used to women who knew the score, who wanted exactly what he wanted; a simple night of satisfying, no strings attached sex.
He suspected that Violet would be different. She seemed different. And as he stepped into the small shop, he was sort of anticipating the idea of an old-fashioned woman. His body was definitely anticipating seeing her again.
Unfortunately, his prey wasn’t behind the counter. The human being that stood behind the counter looked nothing like his shy, petite beauty from the night before. Definitely not! The person almost growling at him was not the slender beauty who had knocked him sideways the other night at The Rotten Apple. It was a barrel-chested man with a full beard and a somewhat messy flannel shirt that had definitely seen better days.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice brusque as he finished chomping on whatever he’d quickly hidden underneath the shop’s counter. The guilty way the man was looking across the store made Creek instantly assume that the man had been imbibing something illegal. But the fishy scent that Creek smelled a moment later made him think it was only a tuna fish sandwich. Nothing wrong with that, he supposed.
Creek felt the man sizing him up instantly. This man knew the score, Creek thought. He was a product of the street and recognized a kindred soul. Creek had grown up on the street, taught himself to read, and put himself through college. He’d built an enormous empire by applying his street knowledge to the wimps on Wall Street who considered themselves sharks. They grew up pampered, attending private schools, and having mommy and daddy rescue them from their problems.
Creek had bought a mountain in Alaska to get away from those types. His mountain allowed him to get away from all the crap that was flung around in the stuffy corporate offices but, with technology and his private plane, he maintained control of his global empire.
So what the hell was he doing standing here, looking for an innocent goddess who should stay as far away from men like him as possible?
He’d tried to stay away. Damn, he’d actually flown over to Paris to take care of some business at one of his companies, just to try and get her out of his mind. But when he’d visited his French lover and felt nothing for her, he knew that he had to get back here and find his goddess.
His plan was to find her, work her out of his system and get his life back under control. Simple plan, he told himself. He was good at plans. He never failed as soon as his agile mind had created a plan.
So where the hell was his woman? In order for his plan to work, she had to be here.
“I’m looking for Violet,” he announced to the man behind the counter. “I thought she owned this shop.” Creek knew that she owned it. He’d done his research. Never enter into a battle without information, he’d learned. Some people thought that money was what gave people power. They were wrong. Information was the key to success.
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as Creek walked further into the brightly lit store. “She’s not here. What can I do for you?” he growled, leaning his hands on the counter as if challenging Creek to a battle if the next statement came out wrong.
Creek understood the body language. “You’re her stepfather?” Creek asked, guessing correctly. He’d discovered that Violet’s father had passed away when she was young and her mother had remarried several years before succumbing to cancer.
“What’s it to you?” the man challenged.
Creek wasn’t taking the bait. “I’m just here to…”
The door opening interrupted his words and a gust of cool wind hit him in the back. Spring had not yet come to the small towns of Alaska and wouldn’t for a while. There might be daffodils and tulips blooming in “the lower forty-eight”, but there was still snow on the ground here in the icy state.
“Goodness!” his goddess gushed, as she hauled in what looked to be a heavy box.
Creek immediately grabbed the box that was slipping out of her hands and easily lifted it into his arms.
“Oh!” she gasped and straightened. And then she said it again. “Oh!” when she realized who was standing in front of her.
It was him! The man from the bar! Oh my, she thought as she took in his amazing magnificence. She’d forgotten how tall and muscular the man was. That impact was magnified by his leather jacket that covered his broad shoulders, making them look even more dangerous than they had the other day. She hadn’t thought that this man could be more enticing, but she’d been wrong. Dead wrong!