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When his brother couldn’t help himself and gossiped the news to her first—not such a surprise since he was a SoCal stringer for the tabloids—Marlys had dumped Pharmaceutical Phil that very night.
Another woman might have let him go through with the one-knee moment, but she’d spared them both the experience. Not only didn’t she want to be some man’s wife, she didn’t want to sleep with a marriage-minded one either. Smacked of codependency.
Then the shop door swung open and Dean Long stepped in. She took the jolt of pleasure at the sight of him like a stab to the belly. The sharp sensation made her suck in a hard breath, and then she hid her sudden flush of yearning by grabbing Phil by the ears and planting a searing kiss on his lips.
She put tongue into it.
And a little panic.
When she let him go, she dried her bottom lip with the edge of her hand and then pushed her ex toward the door, feigning surprise at seeing Dean standing in the way. “Oh!” She hid her smirk behind her fingers.
Dazed, Phil wandered around the other man and outside without a word, but Marlys waved at his retreating back with an aspartame smile. “See you!”
Then she swung her attention to the newcomer. “And I didn’t expect to see you.” Her hands tugged on the wrap dress she wore with a pair of sleek riding-style boots and then adjusted the little cardigan she had on for extra warmth. “You didn’t mention it last night.”
He shrugged. “The way you scampered off clutching that beefstick, I thought I’d given you enough to worry about for one evening.”
“Worried? You don’t worry me.” After a little more light-hearted flirtation, she’d left him without a care in the world. He was cute, she’d decided once she was safe at home with her dog, but of no concern for a woman like herself.
“Then how about a late breakfast or an early lunch? Can you get away—or did you already spend all your free time on the guy you just poleaxed with that out-of-the-blue tonsil inspection?”
Crap. He hadn’t bought her act—and it made her mad, because she wasn’t completely sure of what she’d been trying to sell. Was she trying to prove to Dean that she could attract other men? That she could manage any man?
“Well?” He looked as if he couldn’t care less what she answered and that made her mad, too. But he was here, wasn’t he? Maybe he was a better actor than she was, but he hadn’t sought her out without reason.
Maybe he wanted his own tonsil inspection.
That now-familiar belly burn ignited again and Marlys glanced around the shop. She had plenty of excuses if she wanted to refuse, but her clerk Leeza knew the ropes nearly as well as she did. And there was only a couple of browsers besides the woman who’d taken some outfits into the fitting room. Through her lashes, she made another quick assessment of Dean.
Not cute, handsome. Sexy. And the way he was looking at her, all silvery cool, felt like a direct challenge. Angel, show me what you’ve got.
Marlys could never resist a dare, and this one didn’t have a downside. The upper hand was always fun, and she’d show him that to her, lunch with a gorgeous man like himself equaled pure playtime.
“All right.” The shop was so small it was only two hops and a skip to retrieve her purse from behind the counter. “Leeza, you’ll be okay?”
The clerk said she would, and Marlys was headed for the door and Dean. With only five steps to go, the woman who’d been in the fitting area blocked her way. In a long-sleeved, swing-hem cotton knit tunic over leggings, she held out her arms. “What do you think?”
Marlys didn’t hesitate. “You’ll need to lose ten pounds before you can wear that without looking pregnant.”
Over the crestfallen shopper’s head, she caught Dean’s wince. She ignored the little poke of guilt at her plain-spokenness, and while she would have done it anyway, she hurried on her detour to a freestanding rack. There, she pulled a different top off the metal stand. “This one will look fabulous with your great skin.”
Cheering some, the woman took the hanger, and Marlys continued on her way. Outside, Dean slanted her a look. “How the hell do you stay in business with that kind of customer service?”
“I stay in business because when I tell them something’s right, they believe me, and don’t think I’m just trying to make a sale.”
“Ah,” Dean said, nodding. “I’ve been to a restaurant in Atlanta where the waitresses regularly curse the diners and roundly criticize their selections from the menu. The line is out the door.”
“The top I picked out cost twice as much as the one she’d tried on.”
