Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

With sexy lingerie and a raincoat.

First I needed the sexy lingerie. I had a few pieces of hot underwear in my closet but Tom had seen them. I wanted to dazzle him with something new.

Sherry’s Trousseau just off Main Street was an expensive little boutique but none of the other stores or the mall near Dover sold anything as nice as Sherry’s. The only issue with buying lingerie in a small town, however, was the fact that anyone in the store, including Sherry, knew I was planning on getting lucky sometime soon, and had no qualms bringing up the subject like they had a right to the details of my sex life.

“Tom will have a lot of fun taking those off.” Sherry rang up the red silk bra, panties, matching garters, and sheer silk stockings. I had a pair of red stilettos I planned on wearing with them.

“Yeah,” I said. “Here’s hoping he’ll explode all over me with excitement.”

I grinned to myself as I left the store, savoring Sherry’s blushing mortification.

Apparently it was okay for her to discuss my man touching my lingerie but not okay for me to discuss the consequences of such an act. Oh well. She should have been used to my inappropriate responses by now. It’s how I survived small-town life. I said what I was thinking, no filter, and I beat nosy busybodies at their own game by divulging too much information.

It was fun.

I glanced back toward the shop to see if she was sharing her shock over what I’d said with Ellen Luther, the only other customer in the shop at that moment, and—

“Oof!” Pain shot up my jaw as I collided with something hard that knocked me off balance. The movement caused the paper bag with my lingerie in it to swing, and the thin handle snapped with the force, sending my new purchases scattering all over the pavement.

I stared down at it in surprise as my jaw throbbed. And then I caught sight of the shoes at the edge of the scene.

Polished to a shine.

Black leather Derby shoes.

I’d bet everything I had they were Prada.

And there was only one man in Hartwell who wore designer like it was made especially for him.

My heart sank as I lifted my gaze.

Sure enough, staring down at my new underwear like he was staring at a lamppost, or something equally mundane, was Vaughn Tremaine.

Now my whole body thrummed along with the throb in my jaw where I’d collided with one of his broad shoulders. As always he wore a tailored three-piece suit that fit him beautifully.

I watched in horror as he unbuttoned his jacket and lowered to his haunches to pick up my underwear. If it had been anyone else reaching for those items I wouldn’t have cared less. But Vaughn Tremaine wasn’t just anyone.

With my new bra dangling in his clutches he looked up and quirked an eyebrow my way.

Not for the first time I found myself squirming under his steel-gray gaze.

Silence stretched between us as we stared at one another and I fought the urge to abandon my stuff and run off in the opposite direction away from him. The problem was—well there were a number of problems with Vaughn Tremaine—the fact that a) he was much too attractive for his own good and b) unlike anyone else, he had the ability to make me feel insecure.

Right now, for instance, as much as I didn’t want the thought in my head I couldn’t help but note how unaffected he appeared at holding my sexy underwear in his hand.

I was as attractive as a limp noodle to him.

And it shouldn’t bother me.

The man was a jerk.

“Looks like Tom is in for an interesting evening.” Vaughn held the bra up toward me.

I snatched it from him, my cheeks blazi

ng. Clearly karma was getting back at me for what I’d said to Sherry. As he reached for the panties and garter I snapped, “Leave it.”

“But I’m already down here.” He ignored my demand as he collected the broken bag and carefully placed the underwear back inside. As he stood up Vaughn handed me the bag.