Free Taming Tess (The St. John Sibling Series) by Barbara Raffin Page A

ordered and I paid for," he said.
    She glowered at the boxy building in front of them. "This can't be the only place even in this burg of a town where I can buy a change of clothes."
    " It's not," he said and she lifted a hopeful eye his way. "But it's the only place open this late where you can get clothing and stuff."
    She huffed and released her seatbelt. "Then make like a gentleman and open my door."
    He raised an eyebrow at her. "Open your door? I thought you were a diehard woman's libber?"
    Her head snapped in his direction, her ponytail swi shing across her back as if in exclamation. "Men who use women's lib as an excuse not to open a lady's door are clods who didn't open doors before women's lib."
    He put his drink cup in the cup holder, opened his door, climbed down from the truck, traipsed around the front bumper, and opened her door. "Let it never be said I was a clod."
    She rolled her eyes, exited the truck, and headed for the store. He headed back toward the driver's side of the truck.
    "I need you with me, St. John," she called over her shoulder.
    "What? The automatic doors don't open fast enough for you?"
    She didn't slow down. She just held up her arms and kept marching toward the store, barking out, "Do you see a purse? No, you don't because my purse and credit cards are still in The Castle waaay across town."
    He groaned and headed after her . So much for the compassion she expressed toward him when she thought he'd been the ER patient. It hadn't occurred to him that her concern might be for her own ends.
    Inside the Bargain Mart, she strutted past the shopping carts. Good. That had to mean they wouldn't be here long. Right?
    She went straight for the clothing section and stopped at a rack of skimpy undergarments. She selected panties made of a slick looking fabric, their high cut leg openings trimmed with wide bands of lace. She tossed them at him with a flippant, "They aren't silk, but they'll do for now."
    "Maybe if you took only one pair instead of three, they wouldn't be too heavy for you to carry," he said, fumbling to grip the panties by their hangers and keep his fingers out of them.
    She gave him a smirk and moved on to a rack of filmy nightwear. The muscles low in his groin twitched. There was only one thing worse than lying in his bed thinking about her asleep in the room above his in his t-shirt, and that was thinking of her asleep in one of those frilly contraptions. It was going to be an even longer night.
    Correction. There was one thing worse. Thinking of her asleep in nothing at all. But right now, he needed to deal with the effect those lacy nighties she fingered were having on his deprived male parts.
    He plucked a full-length nightgown from the clearance rack and held it up. "How about this one?"
    She eyed the nightgown with distinct disdain. "Polyester may suit your type of woman, but it's not my style."
    "What do you mean, my type of woman ?"
    "The marrying kind."
    "As opposed to you?" he asked.
    Her big brown eyes narrowed at him, almost wounded looking. Then she blinked and the sharp edge of her voice sliced through the cooled air between them.
    "Yes, St. John. As opposed to a woman like me who chooses career over marriage--a woman who isn't about to hide her talents behind a husband's ego."
    She flicked aside the slinky nightgown and moved on, grumbling, "Is it too much to ask for something in cotton?"
    "How about your mouth wrapped up like a mummy's," he muttered under his breath.
    By the time the fifteen minutes to closing announcement crackled over The Bargain Mart PA system, he was beginning to feel like an overloaded coat rack.
    "Come on," he urged, "they're closing."
    She held up two shorts and crop-top sets. "Which color best suits me?"
    The pink set made him think of cotton candy …and about nibbling the sweet confection off her body.
    "The gray set," he sa id.
    She smiled slyly. "I think I'll take both. After all, it's not like I'm paying for them."
    "I'm paying for basics,"