Bound to His Redemption Page 10

“These doors — they’re not natural.”

  She stared at him, incomprehension on her face. Then it faded, and she burst out laughing. “You think they’re magic?”

  “Are they not powered by spells or enchantments?”

  “Not unless you call science and technology magic.”

  He threw a scowl at her because she was still shaking with mirth. “How am I to know what humanity is capable of in this age?”

  “Before you came to stay with me, didn’t you see doors such as these?”

  “I did not encounter such doors,” he said, his voice stiff. “I had to open them myself.”

  “Well, trust me, these aren’t magic. Let’s go in.”

  “Fine,” he agreed, his mood dampening further at what he could see awaited him inside. While he was happy to be out of Caralyn’s deathtrap, the crush of humanity almost made him long to be back in the vehicle.

  Though he hated the people, the mall itself was tolerably decent, except for the harsh lighting. That made him squint his eyes as he took everything in. Stores lined the open courtyards and hallways, and most of them seemed to sell clothing or home goods. However, the mingling scents of cooked food wafting through the area told him there were probably also eateries somewhere in the building.

  As with so many other places, the inside of the mall was decked out with more of those Christmas decorations. Though, Caralyn’s apartment hadn’t contained any. Would she put up any? Not that it was important if she did. They, however, lent a festive atmosphere to any space, not that he’d admit that to a living soul. But he might not find it too disagreeable if she did decorate.

  A line of people lurked ahead of them, and he frowned. So far, they’d managed to give others wide berth. “Why are those people just standing there?”

  “They’re waiting to see Santa. Well, the kids are. Not the parents.”

  “Who?”

  She pointed toward the line. “Look near the large Christmas tree.”

  He searched the area beyond the crowd where the tree was and saw the oddest sight in his long life. A heavy, old man with a white beard sat in a red padded wingback chair. Two women surrounded him on the platform they were all on.

  They were all dressed in the most ridiculous clothes ever in existence. Slouchy green hats, red- and- green striped tunics, pointy red shoes, and tight green leggings adorned the women. The man wore a red velvet suit trimmed with white along the edges and down the front of his tunic. His hat had the same color scheme, and like the women’s, it was slouchy, though bigger than theirs. Short black boots completed his outfit.

  Eamon turned to Caralyn. “The heavy man with the beard? So that’s who Santa is? I’ve seen him depicted at many places since arriving at your town.”

  Laughter danced in her eyes. “Yes.”

  He brushed aside her amusement. “Why would anyone stand in line to see him? And who are those women?”

  “Santa’s supposed to come down chimneys and deliver gifts to all the good boys and girls in the world.”

  “That’s absurd. How could anyone believe that? The logistics of it would be impossible.”

  “It’s a tradition aimed at children. Most of them love Santa. Part of the allure is that it is fantastical. Even some adults like the holiday magic in the concept, though they do actually know he doesn’t exist.”

  How ironic. “Humans want to believe in Santa, but they’ve lost all knowledge of the fae and elves?”

  A smirk spread across her lips, an expression he wished he could kiss away. “Oh, we haven’t completely forgotten. Those women you were wondering about? They’re supposed to be Santa’s workshop elves.”

  Disbelief and annoyance welled in his chest. “They’ve consigned us to be the helpers of a silly myth?”

  “Yeppers.”

  Such sacrilege! Humanity had truly sunk to new levels. He sputtered, but no coherent words would come out. His hands quivered, and he wanted nothing more to go up to that platform and rip those imposters from their post.

  Caralyn took a hesitant step toward him and touched his arm. “Hey, hey, calm down People are looking at you.”

  Her words pierced his anger, and he glanced around. People were staring, worry and fascination warring on their faces. He breathed deeply and released the air through his nose. “Let us go and purchase my clothes before I murder someone.”

  “Wise idea,” she muttered.

  Caralyn led past the line at a quick clip, throwing paranoid glances at him. He gave an inner growl. She should give him some credit. He wasn’t stupid enough to attempt anything here.

  After a few minutes, his tense muscles relaxed a fraction. They’d get the clothes and soon leave. Then they’d go back to her apartment, and he’d ... He’d what? Besides seducing her, he couldn’t think of anything useful since he didn’t know how to even earn his “repentance.”

  His gaze alighted on something that backed up his drive for sex, and he froze. Skimpily clad statue-like forms stood in the display windows of one of the stores. Never before had he seen such undergarments — or had the pleasure of removing them from a warm and willing female. Could he ...

  Raking an assessing glance over Caralyn, he nodded. Yes, she’d look quite fabulous in that intimate wear. And he’d get to unwrap her like one of Santa’s presents.

  Caralyn stiffened, her expression morphing into one of horror. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Too late,” he said cheerfully. He finally had a clear mission — one he’d take delight in fulfilling.

  She backed away from him, holding her hands up to ward him off. Eamon chuckled and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the store.

  CARALYN YANKED AGAINST his hold. “Let me go, you creep.” She furtively glanced around to make sure no one was watching them.

  He paid her no heed. Since she was leery of making a scene, she gave up her ineffectual struggles but walked as slowly as she could.

  Damn him, he had her cornered. The smug grin he threw back at her showed he knew it, too. And she had to go along with it. She’d seen the way he’d glowered at Santa and his merry elves. He’d looked as if he were about to hurtle himself at them like a bowling ball, so she definitely wouldn’t trust him now if some bystander or security person became involved.

  Maybe it hadn’t been wise to enjoy poking fun at him so much. She’d forgotten he would make her pay for it — and it appeared her IOU had come due.

  Eamon led her into Whispers, and it seemed every pair of feminine eyes snapped to them. The women’s gazes slid right over her and lingered on Eamon in a way that turned her blood into liquid fire. Didn’t they see he was with her? Never mind that they weren’t really together — when a man entered an intimates store with a woman, the expectation was that he was in a relationship with said woman.

  Though it pained her to admit it, Eamon had a model-perfect face and an air that commanded attention, even when he was dressed in sweats. So she couldn’t totally fault the women, but she didn’t have to like it. She — Wait. She wasn’t jealous, was she? No way. Sure, his attention was flattering at times because he was superbly good looking. But her worry merely stemmed from wanting to get him out of her apartment as quickly as possible. She didn’t need him involved with someone who might only further mess up things.

  But her reasons didn’t quite hold up. First, if he did meet a woman who he was interested in, Eamon could move in with her. Second, his prejudice would probably stop him from having any kind of relationship with a woman besides a one-night stand.

  Eamon drew her over to a rack of lacy bras and matching panties. After inspecting them, he picked up an ivory-colored set that had delicate blue snowflakes and held the pair up to her. She shied away, an embarrassed flush working its way over her face. Oh, God, he was visually measuring her.

  Once they were back in her car, she’d kill him. Happily with a smile on her face.

  Eamon chuckled and addressed the sales associate who was sauntering up to them. “My girlfriend is
so shy. Isn’t it adorable?”

  The tall blonde nodded, barely glancing in Caralyn’s direction. “She’s beyond adorable.” Her tone left no doubt that she meant Caralyn was cute like a puppy, not a sexy woman.

  “Do you need any help?” the lady asked Eamon, looking at him through her lashes. She gave him an obvious once-over, and she paused as she took in his sweat pants. A slight frown formed between her brows, but when she returned her examination to his face, it cleared instantly. A star-struck gleam entered her eyes that seemed to mirror every woman’s there.

  Caralyn wanted to smite the harlot into next year, but Eamon merely smiled charmingly at the woman and shook his head. “Not at all, thank you.”

  After his polite yet pointed rebuff, the sales associate’s lissome body stiffened. “Have a good day,” she said woodenly.

  A traitorous relief stormed through Caralyn. Though he’d put her in this position, at least he wasn’t going to flirt with other women in front of her. For some reason, that was a comforting thought she really didn’t want to explore.

  Eamon closed the space between them, shaking the set in front of her face. ”Dearest, I think you’d look stunning in these. And it’s your size if I’m not mistaken?”

  She blinked and then blinked again. Was she dreaming? He’d called her dearest. Though she knew he was only doing it for the benefit of their audience, she never thought he’d go that far.

  Before she knew what she was doing, she’d reached out a hesitant hand so she could glance at the tags. “Yes.”

  How’d he known? Had he really been with so many ladies that he could guess their proportions? Or had he snooped through her unmentionables? Both were a disturbing thought, though for totally different reasons.

  He cast a wicked smile her way. “Wonderful. We’ll take these, then, and enjoy them tonight.”

  Heaven help her, but heat coursed through her body at his words. She shifted to disband the sensation and kept quiet. He wasn’t making this easy. At all.

  Apparently not satisfied with her level of mortification yet, he said, “I’ll love unwrapping you like a present.”

  Her face flamed even brighter, and she grabbed his arm. “Let’s go get your clothes.” Her voice came out plea-ridden.

  “After we make our purchase here. We don’t want to return home without these.” He raised the bra and panties higher, probably to show the whole store, the ass.

  She snatched them from him, glaring and mouthing I hate you.

  He merely waggled his brows at her, so she stalked toward the registers. Of course, he followed like a burr stuck on her butt.

  Once they vacated the store, she shoved the sack at him. “Here, I believe you wanted these.”

  “I’m afraid they’re not my size.”

  A groan of frustration ripped from her throat. “We need to get your clothes before I change my mind and you leave empty-handed. It’d be no more than you’d deserve.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  She rolled her eyes skyward and plowed on ahead of him.

  Chapter 10

  Caralyn sighed as she stared at the hallway leading to the men’s dressing rooms. How much longer was Eamon going to take? He was quite picky and definitely knew what he liked — and what he didn’t.

  Throwing herself back down on a chair in the little waiting area outside the dressing room, she scowled at she glanced around. Two female retail associates were lurking nearby, no doubt hoping to catch a glance at Eamon when he emerged from his clothing cave. Didn’t they have jobs to do? After all, they’d been straightening up the same shelves for the last twenty minutes, and it hadn’t even been that disordered in the first place.

  But ever since they’d entered Taggerts, women trailed after and fawned over him. She snorted. It was a wonder they didn’t try to follow him into the dressing room. Not surprisingly, he’d invited her back until she told him only men were supposed to go in. He’d been dead serious when he told her she could slip in when no one would notice. Fat chance of that happening. Even if she’d wanted to, she was under constant surveillance from those two harpies.

  “How does this look?”

  Startled out of her reverie, Caralyn looked up. Eamon stood in the entrance of the hallway to the dressing room. And what a sight he presented.

  The black jeans he had on hugged lean hips and outlined his long legs. His dark green T-shirt did nothing to hide the width of his chest or the muscles of his upper arms. Her mouth went dry. Why was she becoming all hot and bothered? They were in the middle of a store, not having a make-out session in her bedroom.

  But he looked delectable. If he were a steak, she’d have gobbled him up. Geez, she was going crazy to think such a thing. A steak? Really?

  “Well?” he pressed.

  “You look good,” she said in a weak voice. Not very eloquent sounding, but she didn’t want to give him a bigger ego than he already had.

  He slid a hand down one of his jeans-clad thighs. “I quite like how these fit.”

  She nearly groaned at his action. How could such an innocent thing be so erotic? But then, coming from him, it probably wasn’t intended to be. But no signs of teasing or flirting were on his face.

  “We’ll get them, then. This makes how many pairs of pants and shirts now?”

  He appeared to do a quick count in his head. “Seven shirts and five pants. That’s not taking into account the few nightclothes I picked out, plus the socks and undergarments.”

  She nodded. “That’s fine. If you think you now have enough, we can go check out.”

  “They’re sufficient for the time being.”

  As he headed into the dressing rooms again, she let the breath she’d been holding whoosh out. After a few moments, her heart rate had returned to something approximating normal.

  But the sound of her name being hissed killed her relief. “Caralyn, Caralyn, come here.”

  She swallowed against the sandpaper feeling in her throat. What did he want?

  “Please,” he said.

  That made her freeze. He never said please unless he was being sarcastic. She got up and glanced around, doing a quick sweep of the area. For once, nobody was around. The two women must’ve been called away.

  Her feet guided her to him, her brain on autopilot. Once she stood before his door, he yanked it open and pulled her inside. She stifled the yelp on her tongue.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  With a pained grimace, he pointed down to his fly, and her stomach dropped as she saw the problem right away. The boxers she’d found for him were caught in the zipper of his jeans. She cringed, hoping he hadn’t caused much damage to himself. “It is bad?”

  “No skin is caught. Just the boxers and some hair.”

  The mention of that kind of hair caused obscene images to flash through her mind. “Oh. Can’t you lower the zipper?”

  He scowled. “If I could, do you think I’d be calling you?”

  Good point. “What do you want me to do?” Please don’t let it be what I think it might.

  “You have more experience with zippers” — here he uncharacteristically hesitated — “so I thought you could assist me.”

  A panicked sensation built in her chest until she thought she’d exploded. Assist him? To do that, she’d have to get near his ... his ... Dear Lord, she couldn’t even finish that thought. And though he genuinely seemed distressed, what if he was just doing this to discomfit her? Or to get her hand down his pants? But even he wouldn’t sink so far, would he? Ha, this was Eamon she was talking about. He wasn’t the most moral person ... being ... she’d met. “I’ll help you, but don’t try anything funny.”

  Mild incredulity played over his usually cold face. “Why would I be funny? This situation isn’t humorous.”

  “It’s just a saying that means don’t try anything I won’t like.”

  He blinked, and then a smile slowly spread across his lips. “If I tried that, you’d more than like it.”


  “You’re very sure of yourself.”

  “With good reason, as I excel in most endeavors.”

  But not all. “Since you’re not only here on Earth but in this room right now with your boxers caught in a zipper, I can think of a few you failed.”

  “Thank you for so kindly reminding me of them. Failure is an unfortunate part of life, and even I’m not exempt from it.”

  “What a profound realization to realize you’re not God.”

  He snorted. “I’ve never fancied myself that, but I do learn from my failures. Not everyone could say the same. Now are you going to assist me or not?”

  She chewed on her lower lip, again torn as to what to do. Though she’d agreed to help him, every cell in her body screamed this would end badly.

  “I know a few women who’d be more than happy to aid me,” he said, glancing meaningfully at the door.

  He wouldn’t!

  Folding his arms over his chest, he stared at her. “Well?”

  “All right, fine.” Taking a timid step toward him, she tried to quell the shaking in her limbs. No luck there. Exhaling a ragged breath, she lowered her hands toward his zipper, but they stopped short of contact.

  “It won’t bite.”

  “Yours just might.”

  “Only if you want it to.”

  That only made her trembling worse, damn him. She marshaled her courage. Since he was insisting this had to be done, it might as well be her. After all, she didn’t want to inflict his brand of craziness on anyone else. Yeah, tell yourself that. Maybe you’ll believe it someday.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed the zipper pull with her thumb and index finger. Using her other hand, she held onto the top of his jeans near the button so she could create some tension to keep the zipper nice and straight. The unwitting connotation of her last thought swept a wave of heat through her. Well, he did have a large enough, erm, package that the front of his jeans didn’t lie flat. That was only the truth.

  Gritting her teeth, she jimmied the zipper back and forth. It didn’t budge. Well, damn.

  Maybe she wasn’t using enough force? She leaned down a bit more and refused to look at Eamon, This was already embarrassing enough, and she just needed to get this over with.