More Naughty Than Nice by Julie Kistler

Author:Julie Kistler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

7

OWEN WAS positively laden down with shopping bags when she found him near the Frango mint display, and he looked just about as grumpy as any man would in that position.

She was still feeling a little snippy about the underpants debacle, and she asked, rather crisply, “Did you find what you wanted?”

He mumbled something noncommittal, but she did catch, “I really need to get out of here before my head explodes,” or something like that. Fear of shopping. It got them every time.

“Owen, why did you bring me here when you obviously hate to shop?” she asked, not quite keeping the edge out of her voice.

“I don’t hate it.” He considered. “Okay, I do hate it. But I thought you would enjoy it. Marshall Field’s is a Chicago institution, and you hadn’t really seen anything of the city yet except a few bookstores and the inside of one high school. It’s my town, you know.” He shrugged, offering a wry smile that made her want to kiss him. It wasn’t hard. Everything made her want to kiss him. “Next up—the Billy Goat Tavern.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said slowly. “Do they serve goat or something?”

“I don’t think so. But you never know.” He glanced around, moving himself and his packages aside barely in time to avoid a woman with a stroller. “Can we get out of here, please?”

She made a step in that direction and then hastily pulled back as a crowd of teenage girls came barreling through on their way to the cosmetic counter. “I’m trying. There’s not a whole lot of room to maneuver here.” Not unless she wanted to leap over his bags or carry her own over her head.

His eyes narrowed on the heavy shopping bag she was lugging behind her. It wasn’t that she was hiding it. But she also wasn’t advertising it. After she’d bought the chemise, she’d practically tripped over a pair of extremely expensive and wickedly cute red boots in the shoe department, and she couldn’t resist. They were in a large box, which barely fit inside the largest handled shopping bag available. She wanted to show him her purchases. Do you see, Owen? Snappy lingerie and hot little red boots are right for me, while icky pants are not! But she refrained. He’d suffered enough. And he had saved her from the elf.

“I thought you couldn’t buy anything,” he reminded her. “I thought you didn’t have any money.”

Damn, the man was sharp. “I found some cash in my pocket.” Stevie, Stevie. Dishonesty had become her middle name.

“That seems unlikely,” he grumbled.

“What do you think, I shoplifted?” She shook her head, taking her opening and her new boots and beating a self-righteous path to the front door. Okay, so she was lying. She didn’t even know why she was lying at this point. She could just as easily have said she’d found the credit card in her pocket. Habit, apparently.

“I don’t suppose you bought yourself a winter coat?” he asked. “Scarf? Hat?

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