course. At least, for about two more minutes. Then I’ll really have to insist you allow me to get back to my chores.”
Brent stood and formally offered his hand. She took it. “You’ll be disappointed to know I’m an angelic Brent. Not a Hector. Brent Bramwell to be exact.”
With a slight smile, she looked him over from head to toe. “It fits. And you’re wrong. I’m not the least disappointed to meet you, Brent. On the contrary, you’re just what I’ve been looking for.”
She appeared amused as Brent again held her hand too long. “I must have fallen harder than I thought. What did you say?”
“You heard me right,” she assured him as she pulled her hand free. “Just look at you. Tall and handsome. Your coat is a little concealing, but I believe you’re even well built. And not too old. About mid-thirties?”
“Thirty-four,” he answered automatically, then asked, “What exactly am I being interviewed for?”
* * *
SHADOW LAUGHED, drawing up another stool for herself and gesturing for Brent to sit.
He really was very attractive. She’d noted that right off. His green eyes were intent and direct, his tawny brows heavy, now lowered in an annoyed frown. He had lean features, his nose straight and narrow, his cheekbones high, his jaw firm. And his mouth… He had a very sexy mouth, sculpted, his bottom lip slightly full, a small dimple in his left cheek. She sighed.
Best of all, at least to her way of thinking, he had a dry, droll kind of wit that amused her. There were very few things she liked more than laughing. She was finally at a point in her life where she could indulge to her heart’s content in the sheer happiness of being alive. Her constant and unwithering optimism was one reason people always thought she was different, perhaps even a touch strange. And even that she found amusing.
Her perusal of his person had him looking ready to spit, so she decided to explain. “The specialty stores in the complex have decided to group together and have a contest—we’re calling it ‘Love and Laughter.’ Each of us is responsible for finding ten men who fit the description of what single women are looking for—mainly attractiveness, a sense of humor and a romantic nature. Photos of the contestants will be on display in our shops, and any woman coming in can vote for her favorite, one vote per visit. Of course, we hope that’ll mean more traffic to the stores.”
Apparently she’d shocked him again, so she went on before he could collect himself and start objecting. “There’s lots of incentive for guys to enter. Each shop is contributing. The grand prize—the contest winner takes a lady of his choosing on a paid vacation—will be supplied through the travel agent. Photography’s being supplied by the photographer two doors down. There are other prizes, like free coffee and a Danish every day for a month, and a variety of discount coupons. A two-hundred-dollar gift certificate from me. All in all, it’s a pretty impressive package.”
Brent didn’t say anything, simply stared at her with narrowed eyes. Shadow had a hunch she’d somehow offended him, or at the very least, irritated him. She asked curiously, “How tall are you?”
That brought him to his feet. “I think I’ll be going now. It was, uh…uncommon meeting you.”
Shadow scrambled after him, wondering exactly which part of what she’d said had been too much, when he abruptly halted. He gazed around her small shop in something akin to wonder, his eyes alighting here and there on particular items. “What the hell kind of business is this?”
Immediately affronted, Shadow propped her hands on her hips. “It’s a novelty shop.”
Brent took two long strides toward the door, stuck his head out and looked up at the sign overhead. “Sex Appeal? What kind of a name is that?”
“I’ll have you know a friend of mine in advertising came up with that name, along with a nice advertising campaign. She also contributes some of the slogans I use on shirts and things.” His eyes were so dark now they looked black rather than green. Shadow tilted her head. “Would you like a brochure?”
He turned to face her. “Why don’t you just explain to me what type of business you’re running here.”
She frowned, feeling stubborn for just a moment, then shrugged. It really wasn’t worth getting annoyed over. She ran a hand through her hair, glanced around and wondered where to start. “I sort of specialize in sexy items,” she said finally. “Not your usual silk and satin negligees. I’m not that serious and I don’t think love should be, either. What I sell is fun. And comfortable. Sexy can be fun, and vice versa, if the right woman wears it. I think men have known that for a long time.”
She saw that she held his interest, and expounded on her theories. “I took a poll once, and do you know most men thought women looked very sexy when they were rumpled? Can you imagine? I mean, women run around all the time trying to be perfect. Perfectly manicured, perfectly attired, smelling perfect with their hair styled perfectly. It’s all nonsense.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“One man,” she said, “who’d been married to his wife for ten years, told me it really turned him on to see her in her apron, cooking. Another told me his wife was sexiest when she first woke in the morning, all warm and drowsy. There was a young college guy who said the sexiest thing he’d ever seen on any woman was a pair of well-worn cutoffs. But a sense of humor was top of their lists.”
“So what do you sell?” Brent asked, his curiosity snagged. “Aprons and cutoffs?”
Shadow scoffed at him. “Of course not. I sell shirts, like this one, that are just plain humorous. And under-things made of the softest cotton, which I can tell you is a lot more comfortable than silk.” She didn’t miss the way his eyes widened, possibly over her disclosure of the type of underwear she preferred. She crossed the room to lift a nightgown from the rack. “Take this gown, for example. It’s soft and warm and comfortable.” She slipped her hand inside. “But also pretty much transparent. See my fingers?”
He watched as she pressed her palm against the bodice of the gown. “Hmm.”
“And all these tiny buttons down the front are a challenge. Can you just imagine standing there, waiting, watching while a woman—”
“You?”
“Any woman you want,” she clarified, “undid all those little buttons?”
“She could just pull it off over her head.”
Exasperated, Shadow said, “That wouldn’t be any fun. You have to use your imagination a little.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
She stared at him, the gown hanging from her hand. “All right. I can see you aren’t the type to appreciate humor at just any old time.” She returned the gown to the rack. “Would you still like to fill out an application for the contest? I need three more men to meet my quota.”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
At least he wasn’t turning her down outright. She took a little comfort in that. “Don’t wait too long,” she cautioned him. “We have to have all the entrants photographed before the end of November. The contest will run the first two weeks of December.”
“Photographed?
