Just 4 Play

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance.” All the bottles reclaimed, he offered his hand.

She hesitated before taking it and allowing him to pull her to her feet. “I must say, I was impressed with your sales technique,” he said. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding another job.”

“Another job!” She shoved the bottles onto the shelf and faced him, hands on her hips. “You’re going to fire me just because I didn’t know you were the new boss?”

“Not fire you. But you’ll need to find another job when I close the place down.”

“What do you mean, close?” Sid hurried over to them.

Mitch looked around at the costumed mannequins, the cabinets full of condoms and oils and lingerie and fetish toys, finally letting his gaze come to rest on Jill’s pixie face, all flashing eyes and pouting mouth. “Uncle Grif might have gotten a kick out of this place, but now that he’s left it to me, I intend to close it and use the space to open a restaurant.” He nodded toward the reshelved massage oil. “I think most people are more interested in Kung Pao than Kama Sutra, don’t you?”

“You’d better take a look at those books again,” Sid said. “This place makes way more money than any restaurant would.”

“Oh, I don’t think this has anything to do with the money, Sid.” Jill crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“No, it isn’t about the money.” Mitch looked her in the eye, resisting the temptation to let his gaze drop lower, to her very enticing cleavage. “It’s a personal decision.”

Sid frowned. “Come again?”

“Mr. Landry doesn’t think we’re respectable,” Jill said. “He’s embarrassed.”

“Ohhhh.” Sid nodded and clapped him on the back. “Go take a look at those books again, dude. You’ll get over your embarrassment, I guarantee.”

Mitch shoved his hands into his pockets. “I have a younger sister, and business associates. I’ll admit I don’t care to have them know I own a business that sells ten kinds of dildos and fur-lined handcuffs.”

“Twenty,” Jill said.

He blinked. “Twenty what?”

“We have twenty kinds of dildos.” She took a step toward him, backing him up against the armoire. “And we have hundreds of satisfied customers. Just 4 Play provides a needed service in the community.”

“By selling musical condoms and Ben Wa beads?”

“No, by selling fantasy. And fun.” She leaned closer, until the tips of her breasts almost brushed against him. “Something you apparently haven’t had enough of in your life.”

“Life is about more than fun.” He forced himself to ignore the enticing aroma of jasmine that surrounded her. “I have work to do. Responsibilities.” He straightened. “And a reputation to protect, whether you agree with that or not.”

She stepped back, a scornful expression on her face that might have been more effective if it hadn’t made him think of the I Dream of Jeannie reruns he’d seen on Nick at Night.

“Just 4 Play has a reputation too,” she said. “And it’s not as bad as you seem to think. You haven’t even been here an hour and already you’re making judgments. You ought to at least give us a chance to show you what this place, and our customers, are really like.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. The architects are all ready to draw up the plans and I’ve started the paperwork for the construction loan and building permits.”

Sid’s shoulders slumped. “So when do we shut the doors?”

“You have a month.” He waved his hand at the shelves of bottles, boxes and gadgets, avoiding Jill’s angry face. “You’d better start marking things down.” He checked his watch. In thirty minutes, he had to meet Lana at the bank. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

Jill caught up with him at the door. “Isn’t there anything we can do to change your mind?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not a thing. I’m the kind of man who, when I make up my mind to do something, it stays made up.” He hadn’t put himself and his sister through school and started his own real estate business by being wishy-washy.

“You say that as if it’s a virtue.”

Her words caught him off guard. He studied the toes of his shoes for a moment, then looked up at her. “I guess if you think life is all about fun, it isn’t,” he said. He nodded goodbye and opened the door.

He thought he’d gotten the last word, but right before the door shut, her voice drifted to him. “If you don’t have fun, you don’t have a life, Mr. Landry. Too bad no one ever taught you that.”

JILL SLAMMED THE DOOR SHUT on Mitch Landry, then turned and punched Blow-Up Betty right in the stomach. “I can’t believe he would do this to us!”

Betty swung back and forth on her stand until Sid moved over to steady her. “Careful with the merchandise, sister.”

She brushed by Sid and began to pace. “I mean, how can he waltz in here, take one look around and decide to shut us down?”

“He’s the owner. He can do anything he wants.” Sid walked over to the cash register and slumped onto the stool behind the counter. “I guess we’d better start looking for other jobs.”

“I don’t want another job.” Jill didn’t stamp her foot, but she wanted to. This was one of those times when an all-out temper tantrum would have felt good. “I want to keep this one. There must be something we can do.”

“You heard the man. He’s got the architects working already. In another few months people will be ordering up fried rice where the costume rack is now.” He picked up the paper and opened it to the classified ads. “There must be something in here I could do.”

Jill hurried over to him and grabbed his arm. “Sid, you don’t want to get another job.”

His eyebrow ring rose. “I don’t?”

“No. If you get another job, they’ll make you change your hair. Or get rid of your jewelry.” She leaned closer, her voice almost a whisper. “They’ll make you wear a suit. And a tie.”

Sid put a hand to his throat. “A tie?” He shook his head. “There must be something I can do where I don’t have to wear a tie.”

“Not and still have the title of manager. Even the manager of McDonald’s wears a tie. Plus, anyplace else you go to work, you’re liable to have to be there at eight o’clock, or even earlier.”

“Eight in the morning?” Just 4 Play opened at 11:00 a.m. and closed at 10:00 p.m. For a night owl like Sid, 8:00 a.m. might as well be the middle of the night. He laid aside the paper and gave her a stricken look. “What can we do?”

“We have to change his mind.”

“How? We only have a month.” He looked around the store. “By then we might be sold out of everything.”

“We’ll simply have to show him how important this place is—that we provide a much-needed service for people.”

Sid frowned. “How can you do that? I mean, let’s face it, we’re not exactly the food bank. Plenty of people get along fine without candy pants and nipple rings.”

“Only because they don’t know what they’re missing.” Inspiration sent tingles up her spine. She grinned. “I’ve got it!”

Sid leaned away from her. “Got what?”

“I know how we can convince Mitch Landry not to close the store.”

“How?”

She plucked a jar of body chocolate from a display on the counter and began rolling it back and forth in her palms. “I think a little seduction is in order.” She looked at Sid. “I’ll make sure our Mr. Landry gets acquainted with the delights of some of our merchandise.”

A pleasant warmth curled up from her stomach as the idea took hold. Really, it was a brilliant plan. Mitch Landry wasn’t a bad person, merely uninformed. He had a great body and definite masculine appeal. It might even be fun to strip away some of his stuffy attitude and inhibitions, not to mention that suit and starched shirt.

Sid looked skeptical. “You think that would really make any difference?”

She set the jar of chocolate on the counter. “Sure it would. Once he’s having so much fun with the stuff we sell, it would be hypocritical to close us down.”

“You think he’d care about that?”

“You heard the man. It’s not about money for him, it’s about reputation. Responsibilities. He’s got integrity up to his eyeballs.” She gave a mock salute. “No, I just have to find a way to get him to loosen up.” Half the fun would be knowing where to start.

Sid shook his head. “I don’t know, Jill. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get personally involved.”

“Oh come on, I’m a big girl. It’s not as if I plan to get serious with the guy. We’ll just have a little fun.”

“He might not feel the same way. He struck me as the type who takes everything seriously.”

She shrugged off the truth of Sid’s words. Seducing Mitch Landry would be a dangerous game, but nobody had ever mistaken her for a coward. “I’ll be doing him a favor by showing him how to lighten up.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

She leaned on the counter, chin in her hands, and smiled to herself. “Then I’ll have a hell of a lot of fun trying, won’t I?”

3

MITCH WAS FIVE MINUTES LATE to meet Lana, but he wasn’t worried, because she was guaranteed to be ten minutes late. It was one of the things that annoyed him about her. That and her tendency to be arrogant, but he supposed that came from always being at the top of the social heap.

Still, in any relationship, you had to overlook certain things. Lana had other qualities he admired: she was attractive, well-dressed, intelligent and elegant. And she had the kind of connections he needed to establish himself as a businessman in this town. Not that he’d ever date a woman solely for her social status, but it was an added plus when you were trying to get ahead.

She breezed through the double doors of the bank lobby right on schedule, at ten after. Mitch rose from his chair and went to meet her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Careful,” she cautioned, pushing him back. “I just had my hair done.”

Why that should make any difference, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if he was going to run his fingers all through her hair in the course of a hello kiss. Not that he could anyway, she kept it so firmly pinned in place.

“Lana, darling, you look lovely as ever.” Morton Montgomery emerged from his office to greet them. He patted his daughter’s shoulder and shook Mitch’s hand. “I’ve got all the paperwork ready for you. Why don’t you come right in and we’ll go over it all.”

Mitch followed Lana and her father into an office whose predominant theme was dead animals. Mounts of bighorn sheep, deer, elk, moose and even a mountain lion occupied most of the wall space. Mitch took a chair with his back to the lion and smothered an expression of distaste.

“So have you had a chance to check out the property yet?” Mort asked as he settled into a full-grained leather executive chair.

“I was over there this afternoon. I must say, it’s not at all what I thought it would be.”

Mort pursed his lips and nodded. “Still, not the sort of place you’d want your name associated with.”

“What sort of place is it?” Lana looked at him, a pleasant expression on her perfectly made-up face.

Mort cleared his throat. Mitch resented the warning. He’d already agreed Lana didn’t need to know the nature of the business he’d inherited. “Nothing special.” He waved away the question. “A restaurant will do much better in that location, I’m convinced.” His throat tightened only a little at the lie. He had been convinced a restaurant was a better financial venture until he’d seen the books at Just 4 Play. So convinced he’d sold most of his other real estate around town in order to put everything into this new enterprise. But who would have thought there could be so much money in sex?

“We’ve already had an appraisal done.” Mort handed across a folder. “And here’s the preliminary paperwork for the construction loan. You’ll have no problem qualifying for the funds you need. All we’re waiting on now are the architectural plans and the permits from the city.”

“I should have everything ready in thirty days.” He closed the folder and returned it to the banker.

“Excellent. I think this is going to be an excellent investment, Mitch. Something we can all be proud of.” Mort grinned. “So do you two have plans for the evening?”

“We have reservations at the Boulderado.” Lana picked up her purse and stood. “We need to leave now, or we’ll be late.”

On the way to the restaurant, Mitch only half listened to Lana’s account of an annoying client who’d visited her CPA firm that day. He was replaying the conversation in Mort’s office. Why did it bother him that Mort had said the restaurant was something they could “all” be proud of? Wasn’t Mitch the one who was doing all the work? Wasn’t he the one who’d earned the right to be proud—or not? Or did Mort think a simple business loan gave him control over the project—and over Mitch?

The maître d’ at the Boulderado welcomed them with a smile and escorted them to their favorite table in the atrium. “Should I have the wine steward bring your usual?” he asked.

“Yes, James, that will be fine,” Lana said as she settled into her chair.

James started to leave, but Mitch stopped him. “Wait. Instead of the merlot, let’s have a chianti.”

James and Lana both stared at him. “But we always have the merlot,” Lana said.

He nodded and spread his napkin across his lap. “Tonight, I’d like something different.”

“Yes, sir.” James hurried away.

Lana regarded him with a half smile on her lips. “Feeling feisty tonight, are we?”

“Something wrong with that?” He kept his voice light, but there was no mistaking the challenge in the words.

“No. It’s just not like you to be so…different.”

The truth of her words wounded him. Maybe Uncle Grif had been right. Maybe he was a stick in the mud. Well, that didn’t mean he had to stay that way. People changed. He could change without sacrificing his integrity in the process.

He started by ordering broiled trout for dinner instead of his usual prime rib. Lana compressed her lips into a thin line, but said nothing. Mitch sipped the excellent wine and regarded her over the rim of the glass. Her dark hair was drawn back from her face and gathered in a low knot, the kind ballerinas wore. He supposed people would say she had a classical beauty—fine features, with deep-set green eyes and a Roman nose.

“Is something wrong?” She looked puzzled.

He shook his head and picked up his fork. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why were you staring at me?”

He forced a pleasant smile to his lips. “Maybe I simply enjoy looking at you.”

She dismissed the compliment with a frown and began cutting up her prime rib with the precision of a surgeon. “I saw Jerry Brenham at lunch today. He says the Canterbury Apartments are going on the market next week. If you call him now, you could make a bid before anyone else.”

“Actually, I’m thinking of getting out of the rental market altogether.”

She raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow in question. “But why? The Boulder rental market is one of the most profitable in the country.”

“Yes, but I’m tired of being a landlord.” At least with his own restaurant, he wouldn’t have tenants calling him up in the middle of the night to complain about a lack of hot water or the noisy neighbors.

“You should hire a management company. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with tenants.”

“I like being personally involved in a business. That’s why I decided to open a restaurant.”

She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smear her lipstick. “I can’t imagine why. Half the fun of having money is being able to delegate the work to someone else.” She stabbed at a piece of beef. “Then you can go out and make more money.”

It always came back to money with Lana, didn’t it? he thought. They’d met at an investment seminar. He’d been attracted to her from the first because she was so different from him. She had a grace and ease in social situations he wanted to emulate, and a cool reserve he felt could help him keep a tighter reign on his own sometimes tumultuous passions.

The fact that she was the kind of woman who would have never looked at him twice when he was a struggling scholarship student in college made the challenge of winning her that much more exciting. And now here they were, if not engaged, then certainly “in a relationship.” But a relationship based on what—business?

They had dinner every Wednesday at the Boulderado, and attended the theater or a concert every Friday. He usually stayed at her condo two nights a week. She never stayed at his place; she said she couldn’t be comfortable there.

Why hadn’t he realized before how boring and predictable his life had become? He looked at his plate. Right down to the same New York cheesecake every Wednesday night for dessert.

“Mitch, why are you so quiet? Haven’t you been paying attention to a word I’ve said?” Did he imagine a note of annoyance in her voice?

He pushed his plate away. “I don’t want to talk about business tonight.”

She frowned. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her across the table. “Why don’t we talk about us?”

Her eyes widened and she looked away. She balanced her knife and fork precisely in the center of her plate and folded her napkin neatly beside it. “I’m listening.”

And what did he have to say? How could he describe this restlessness he felt? “Lana, do you ever think about doing things differently?” he asked.

“Doing what things differently?” She sipped her coffee.

Decaf, extra cream, no sugar, Mitch thought.

“Anything. Everything.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “For instance, sex.”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean—do you ever think about…experimenting. Dressing up in sexy clothes or using some massage oil or…something.”

By this time her cheeks were the color of ripe apples and her lips had almost disappeared as she compressed her mouth into a thin line. “Really, Mitch. Why would you want to do any of that?”

“I don’t know…because it might be fun. Because maybe we’ve both been a little too…repressed.”

She stared at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me. I just think my life has grown a little…boring. I don’t see what’s wrong with wanting to try something different.”

“I’m sorry if you think I’m…repressed.” She jerked her napkin from her lap and deposited it on the table.

“Lana, I didn’t mean you—”

“I think I’d better leave now.” She stood and clutched her purse to her chest.

“Lana, I—” The apology froze on his lips. He couldn’t say he was sorry, because he wasn’t. What was wrong with a couple talking about these things?

“Don’t bother to get up. I’ll call a taxi.” She gave him a last wounded look and hurried past him.

He told himself he should go after her. That’s probably what she wanted. But why should he pursue her? If Lana wasn’t even willing to listen to his point of view, what did that say about their relationship? He’d thought the safe, orderly routine they’d fallen into was what he wanted, but he realized that wasn’t enough anymore.

So no, he wouldn’t go after her. Actually it was a nice change sitting here alone, sipping his wine and thinking.

Mostly he thought of Jill. How different she was from Lana. Or from any other woman he knew. She was frank without being crass, funny without being phony. She looked like the girl next door and dressed like an erotic temptress. He’d only met her this afternoon but he already felt like she knew more about him than most people. She’d picked up right away on the reason he wanted to close Just 4 Play, and hadn’t been the least bit impressed with his position or power. She hadn’t cared if he owned a whole city block of businesses or if he was a scholarship student at the university.

He smiled, remembering the way she’d asked “What’s your fantasy?”

But his smile faded as her other words came back to him. Was she right? Was he too uptight? Had he forgotten how to have fun?

She couldn’t know how little room in his life there’d been for fun. From the time he was seventeen, he’d been looking after his mother and little sister, Meg. He’d worked and gone to school, and been there for every band concert and school program of Meg’s. Now that Meg was a premed student, she didn’t need him so much—except to pay the bills. And that meant he had to devote himself to business. To meeting the right people, making the right investments. He’d worked hard to develop a certain reputation. For Meg’s sake, as well as his own, he couldn’t let something like owning a sex toy shop cast a shadow over everything he’d worked for. People judged you more harshly when they knew you came from nothing. If too many people thought that way, you could end up with nothing again.

He’d have time for fun later. Right now he had to take care of his responsibilities.

Which brought him back to Jill. She was one of his responsibilities now too. And Sid. He would let them know he’d treat them fairly. He’d give them a generous severance package and help them find other jobs. Maybe he’d even offer Jill a job in his new restaurant. It would be nice having her around. Maybe one day, she’d even come to think of him as a friend.

JILL WAS SURPRISED TO FIND Mitch hard at work in Grif’s office when she arrived at Just 4 Play the next morning. At least, from the looks of the papers spread out on the desk in front of him, he’d been working; when she knocked on the door frame and stepped through the open door, he was staring into space.

When she came into the room, he glanced at her, then straightened. “Good morning, Jill.”

“Good morning. I see you’re here early.”

“I’ve been here since nine. That’s not exactly early.”

“It is around here. We do most of our business in the evening, though the lunch hour is good, too. People like to pop in and pick up a few things.”

“That gives a whole new slant on the idea of a quickie.”

The remark startled a laugh out of her. Yesterday, Mitch hadn’t struck her as a man with much of a sense of humor. Which just went to show, first impressions aren’t always accurate. “Finding anything interesting?” She nodded at the paperwork on his desk.

He glanced down at the folder in front of him, then closed it. “Tell me, what did you think of Grif?” he asked.

“Grif?” The question surprised her. Why was he interested in her opinion of his uncle? “I liked him,” she said. “He was a fun guy.”

“That’s it? A fun guy?”

“Yeah. I mean, he knew how to enjoy life.” Unlike some uptight people I could name. She leaned against the desk. “I’ll bet he was your favorite uncle, huh?”

Was the hurt that flashed across his face grief, or something else? He pushed the file away. “Did you need something?”

So much for getting to know each other better. Good thing she wasn’t the type to give up easily. She flashed him her most dazzling smile. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday.” She moved around to sit on the edge of the desk. Her skirt rose up on her thigh, not an indecent amount, but enough that she was sure he noticed. She’d purposely dressed more conservatively today, in a simple skirt and sleeveless knit top. Sometimes what a man couldn’t see was more enticing than what was right out in the open.

His color heightened as he glanced at her, then he jerked his gaze away. “What in particular were you thinking about?”

“What you said about most people being more interested in Kung Pao than the Kama Sutra.”

“Oh?”

With one syllable, he lobbed the conversation back to her. But that one word told her a lot. He was interested all right, but determined not to show it. “I think, in general, people do tend to think about food more than sex, but maybe that’s because we eat three times a day. I mean, food is always there, practically right in front of us.”

“But most people don’t have sex three times a day.”

She smiled. “No, I think it’s safe to say most people don’t have sex nearly that often.”