He looked down at his hands. The hands that had touched Beth Cantrell. The hands that had held her hips as he’d thrust into her. That wildness had been all for him—it had had nothing to do with Jamie’s name or reputation.
But Eric had ruined that with his stupidity and now he’d be nothing to her but a mistake.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE LEFT THE LIGHTS OF THE store turned off when she got in at eight. The shop didn’t open for another two hours, and she liked the starkness of the pale sunlight that shone through the front windows. It comforted her. She felt alone, and she needed that for a little while.
She’d tried her best not to think about Eric Donovan last night, but she’d woken at 6:00 a.m., an hour before her alarm, and she hadn’t been able to keep her hurt feelings at bay anymore.
Logically, she could tell herself that it didn’t make a difference. It was a name. Nothing more. And he was a man she’d had a brief physical connection with. She didn’t love him. She didn’t know anything about him. Even less than she’d thought, apparently.
But she felt so stupid, and she thought she’d left all that behind. Feeling stupid about sex and her body. Feeling used. She’d built a whole life designed to put her above that. And even if she hadn’t been totally successful, she sure as hell hadn’t let a man bring her shame. Not until now.
“I have nothing to be ashamed about,” she muttered, slicing open a box with a vicious slash. But she immediately regretted her anger. She couldn’t sell damaged erotic toys, and she held her breath as she opened the cardboard to inspect the damage. Thankfully, she hadn’t even sliced through the plastic packaging. She needed to calm down. She needed to let it go. He was the one who had to live with what he’d done.
So Beth made herself turn on the lights in the back room and focus on what she was doing. After all, she should be paying close attention to the toys. She might be spending a lot of time with vibrators in the near future. It was either that or arrange a date with super-smooth Davis.
Maybe that would be okay. Cairo seemed to think it was…luscious.
Beth bit back a shudder and grabbed the first packages out of the box. Personally, she wasn’t interested in a toy with a vibrating appendage shaped like a wolf’s head, but werewolves were popular right now. Whatever her personal likes were, Beth didn’t judge what got other people off. The dildos with chillable inserts were especially in demand as well, and if people wanted to fantasize about cold vampire sex, that was fine with her. “You go, girl,” she murmured as she hung the wolf toys up.
Once the box was empty, she polished the glass cases—nobody wanted to look at intimate toys through fingerprints—and straightened the displays.
By nine o’clock, she felt better. Solid and nearly okay. And then her cell phone rang. She knew without a doubt that it must be Eric Donovan. He had to get in touch, didn’t he? He had to apologize again and maybe grovel. So it had to be him.
But it wasn’t.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, trying to keep the weariness from her voice.
“Hey, sweetie. Where are you?”
“I’m at the store.”
“Oh,” her mother said, that tiny word conveying so much.
“Mom,” she said, sighing. “I wish you’d come see it sometime. It’s not what you think it is.”
“Oh, Beth, I couldn’t. I don’t want to see all those…things.”
“All those things are in the back room. The front room is all pretty lingerie and fun gifts. It’s a place for women, not some sleazy video den.”
“But you sell…” Her mom took a deep breath, and Beth heard the muffling sound of a hand cupped over the phone. “Dildos.”
“Yes, we do.” Beth glanced up at the twelve-inch-long black glass beauty they kept behind the counter. “But that’s okay, you know. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, if your father ever found out I’d gone into a place like that…”
Right. And if he ever found out that Beth ran a place like that… “I still think you should tell him.”
“No, ma’am,” her mom gasped. “He’d never forgive either of us.”
“I’m not sure what he’d blame you for.” Granted, he was conservative. Old Argentina conservative, not to mention Roman Catholic conservative. He still complained that women no longer covered their hair in church.
“He’d blame me for all of it!”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Well,” she muttered, “I hope he’s happy thinking I’m managing a women’s under-garment shop.”
“Oh, he is! He’s very proud of you.”