he said. “If you’re with me, you can keep a list. You know, help Maisie out when it comes to inventory.”
Laurel took one more look at the closed door of the Love Shack. She drew in a long, shaky breath and gave Noah a sidelong look. “All right,” she said, and he felt her stiffen against him. “If that’s what you want.”
They walked across the lobby, Noah’s arm looped over Laurel’s shoulders. No big deal in the great scheme of things. At least it shouldn’t have been. At least it wouldn’t have been if every step they took didn’t make Noah remember how perfectly they fit together. Laurel’s blue jeans scraped against his cashmere suit. Her hip swayed against his. Her hair spilled over her shoulder and brushed his neck. By the time she swung open the door to the Love Shack and flicked on the lights, Noah’s skin was buzzing as if he’d been loofahed from head to toe.
“Toothbrushes.” Like a sentry on duty, Laurel stood in the doorway, her back to the open door, her spine as rigid as if a broom handle had been shoved up her sweater. She pointed to a display on a glass counter to her left. “Lots of toothbrushes. Pick one. And a comb.” She pointed to another display. “Heck, throw in a bottle of mouthwash if you like.” She smiled a toothy, stiff smile. “Get what you need and let’s get out of here.”
“What’s the hurry?” Humming softly to himself, Noah did a turn around the tiny gift shop. What was the word Laurel had used to describe Cupid’s Hideaway? Amazing? Amazing didn’t begin to describe the Love Shack.
On first glance, the place looked about as normal as every gift shop in every hotel Noah had ever been in. Next to the rack of toothbrushes was one of those spinning wire racks full of postcards, islands scenes mostly, though he saw some that were sepia-toned, Victorian reproductions that showed everything from ladies in lacy underwear to a man and a woman in what must have been—at least for the time—a torrid embrace. Cute. Sentimental. Romantic, he supposed, in a fluffy, old-lady sort of way.
At the far end of the room was a display of scented candles, soaps in packaging that was tied with ribbons and a variety of massage oils in colored glass bottles arrayed on the windowsill.
“Oh,” Noah cooed, picking one up and reading the label. “Love Nibbles.”
He wiggled his eyebrows in as near as he could come to a lecherous look and got no response at all from Laurel. Too bad. There was a time when she would have been as interested in a little love and a little nibbling as he was. A time when they would have laughed over the name and hurried home with a bottle to find out if it was as delicious as its label promised.
Regret wasn’t a pretty feeling to experience or to watch, and before Laurel could suspect how hollow his stomach felt and how empty his arms had been for the four long years they’d been apart, he replaced the bottle and continued with his tour. At the door, he stopped to examine a glass display case.
The case was about five feet long and three feet high, pretty ordinary, really. The kind of display case he’d seen in bakeries and clothing stores and bookstores all over the country. But one look and Noah knew this was no ordinary display. He whistled low under his breath and bent to take a closer look. The case was filled with the most amazing variety of sex toys he’d ever seen.
Noah’s temperature shot up a degree or two. Right along with his fantasies. Most of the stuff looked pretty familiar, but there was one especially extraordinary-looking object that even he, with his medical background, wasn’t exactly sure how to use. It was hot pink and about a foot long, no bigger around than a pencil. One end of it was crowned with a flamboyant pink feather.
Imagining the possibilities, he stared at the object for a moment or two before he glanced at Laurel. “I don’t suppose you—”
“Demonstrate?” She pulled her shoulders back and marched over to the counter. “Isn’t it just like you to ask. That’s the most immature, sexist, inappropriate—”
“I was going to say gift wrap.” His hands against the counter, Noah stood and gave her a smile that was as innocent as it was wide. “I was going to ask if you gift wrap.”
“Oh.” A blush rushed up Laurel’s neck and stained her cheeks, but he had to give her credit, she kept her cool. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stepped back, her weight on one foot. “It’s not working,” she said.
“It’s not?” Noah gave her a wink. “It used to work really good.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Either she was one heck of an efficient worker or she was looking for something to do. On the counter was a stack of flyers advertising an upcoming sale at the Love Shack. Laurel grabbed them and carefully folded one after another. “You’re not going to embarrass me, Noah. So don’t even try. We’re both medical professionals. And we’re both adults. How about you cut the crap and we get down to business.”
Noah grinned. “And that business is…”
“Toothbrushes.”
“Toothbrushes. Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, the picture of compromise. “Can I get a bag or something?” he asked.
Laurel reached under the counter and came up holding a small pink shopping bag. “Here. Your bag.” She opened the bag and waited for him to fill it.
Noah took his time. He walked around the gift shop once more, checking things out. He was tempted to take a look through the antique wardrobe that took up most of one wall. The doors of the wardrobe were open, and inside was a variety of lacy lingerie. Pink. White. Lavender. Black. The colors and frothy fabric begged to be touched.
He didn’t. It was one thing teasing Laurel. It was another teasing himself with the memories the filmy clothing conjured. Laurel in lace. Laurel in satin. Laurel in nothing at all.
Shaking off the thoughts, Noah went to the toothbrush display. He plucked one from the rack and dropped it into the bag. He added a travel-size tube of toothpaste and a tortoiseshell comb, but it wasn’t until he reached for a small bottle of minty mouthwash that he realized there was a display he hadn’t noticed. A rack of condoms.
Noah glanced over his shoulder to where Laurel was waiting, the shopping bag open, her gaze fixed on the far wall.
Yeah, they were both medical professionals.
Yeah, they were both adults.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun.
He grabbed a pack of condoms and walked to the counter. It wasn’t until right before he dropped it into the bag that he read the package and saw that the condoms were glow-in-the-dark.
When Laurel looked at him, her eyebrows raised, he shrugged. “What? You never know.”
“Right.” She tapped her foot. “Are you done?”
“No.” Noah grinned and continued to explore. When he came to a display of edible underwear, he couldn’t resist. They were packed in plastic shrink-wrap, each pair different, each hung from a little satin hanger. He considered a bright pink bra, but one look at the expression on Laurel’s face and he knew she was right. It was too sexist. He thought about a purple G-string, bubble gum flavored, according to the packaging, and decided that was too blatant. The only thing that seemed just right was a pair of man’s briefs. Brief briefs. They were bright red and, if the package could be believed, tasted like candy apple.
Prolonging
