Driving Her Crazy Page 8

  He just shook his head. “Never mind. Don’t you do enough shopping for your day job? The stores might like a break. I thought we were in a hurry.”

  She scowled at him. “I can still smell the ketchup, which is mixing with the baby-powder smell from the wipes and giving me a headache. And making me nauseous, which isn’t really a great idea in a small car on a long trip. Not to mention the fact that my pants have a mud stain halfway up one leg and I’m wearing plastic shoes fifty sizes too big. There is no way I’m walking into my parents’ house looking like this.”

  Okay, the ketchup remains were giving him a bit of a headache too, not that he’d admit it. Which was a shame because the nasty vinegar smell obscured the soft jasmine scent of her hair he’d gotten a whiff of when she’d practically crawled in his lap to see the menu. It was too bad she was such a pill. Because she was kind of adorable when she wasn’t being a total twit.

  “There’s not a whole lot of options around here. Nothing you’d approve of, I’m sure.”

  “I’m not asking for Bloomingdale’s. I just want something clean and dry that hopefully fits. And if I’m lucky maybe something without any offensive, egotistical catch phrases involving meat euphemisms. Surely that’s a possibility.”

  Oz shook his head with a wry smile, about to tell her she’d have to just suffer, hopefully in silence, until he saw the sign off the highway. He signaled to get over and took the next exit.

  “Well, Cher, you’re in luck.” He made a left and nodded at the looming superstore as it came into view. “You should be able to find anything you need there.”

  Cher looked out the windshield and Oz grinned at the small frown creasing her brow. He could no more picture Cherice Buchanan Debusshere prancing around the aisles of a supersized one-stop-shop discount mart than he could picture himself duded up in a fancy tux at some fundraiser event her type always frequented.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure you can find something there that won’t make you break out in hives.”

  Cher’s scowl deepened. “The only thing that’s going to make me break out in hives is you.”

  Oz shrugged. “Don’t blame me if you burst into flames the moment you step inside.”

  He pulled into the parking lot and found a spot right up front. Apparently, they were the only idiots out and about on a day like today as he was stuck chauffeuring a spoiled snot who was determined to keep him in his place. He hadn’t missed the look in her eyes with the whole fry episode earlier. She’d liked the little show he’d put on. And then she’d had to go and open that mouth of hers. Hypocrite.

  “Watch out for the puddle,” he muttered, hopping across the massive pond that covered half the parking lot. It wasn’t all that wide, but his long legs had barely made the distance. It was long enough she’d probably need to walk around it.

  She took a couple tentative steps, trying to tiptoe her way through it. Not the easiest thing to do when her oversized flip flops kept slapping the water with each step, splashing water up the back of her legs.

  He folded his arms and watched as she took one tiny step after another. “Any day now.”

  “You could help here.” She held out her hands, her purse dangling from one arm.

  “Oh, right, sorry.” Oz leaned over, took her purse from her arm, then turned back toward the store, ignoring her outraged gasp.

  He waited by the door, watching her prance and splash across the rest of the puddle. He’d never been so purposely rude to anyone, let alone a woman, in his life. But he couldn’t deny the intense streak of satisfaction that came from watching the woman struggle a little. She’d been a pain in his ass all day.

  She’d just made it to the other side when one foot stepped on the back end of the other flip flop. She landed with a wet thud right on her pampered derriere. Water sprayed everywhere.

  Oz’s heart twisted for a split second but the growl and muttered curses she was letting fly indicated only that she was pissed off. No sign of pain. She was fine.

  “Seriously? Are you just going to stand there and watch me?”

  “Oh,” Oz said, reaching her in two long strides. “My apologies.”

  He reached down. And handed her purse back to her. “There you go.” He turned to walk away again.

  “Nathaniel!”

  “Oz.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “You don’t have to call me God. Oz will do.”

  She swished her hand through the puddle, spraying him with the murky water. He gasped and jumped back, wiping his face. Okay. Maybe he deserved that one.

  Cher hauled herself off the ground and stalked past him to the door. He decided to throw her a bone and held the door open with a polite grin and a little bow. She stomped past him, flicking her wet ponytail in his direction. It caught him in the face with a wet slap. He wiped his cheek. Okay, he deserved that, too.

  “All right, get what you need, but let’s make it quick,” Oz said, frowning when she grabbed a cart and headed straight for the women’s section. “The day isn’t getting any longer. I’d like to get as far as we can before it gets too dark.”

  She waved at him over her shoulder and disappeared into a pile of clearance racks. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn she belonged there. He watched in amazement as she tore into a stack of shirts like she was a hyena feasting on a rhino. He shook his head and left her to it.

  He took his time wandering around the store, ending up in the travel supply section. He grabbed another pack of wet wipes and a container of aspirin. Knowing Cherice, they’d need both. And soon.

  Oz found her near the fitting rooms talking to a woman who looked like the proverbial soccer mom. Cher was holding up a dress in front of the woman, her face more animated than he’d ever seen it. The woman laughed and went back to the dressing rooms. Oz started forward again but stopped when a teenage girl came out dressed in a God-awful pantsuit. He expected Cher to wrinkle her pampered little nose up but she tilted her head and rubbed her finger across her lips like she was thinking.

  “It’s not bad. I think something a little more fitted might work better. Here, let’s try these,” she said, handing the girl a pair of slacks and a blouse, “and see how these look with them.” She added a shoe box and a necklace to the pile.

  Oz crossed his arms and leaned against a wall of shelves holding jeans. What was Cher up to?

  The girl beamed at Cher and hurried back to the room just as the woman Oz assumed was her mother, going by their hair color and features, came back out in a little black dress that showed off her great legs.

  Cher clapped. “That one is perfect!”

  The woman smiled and did a little spin. “It is, isn’t it?” She leaned over and pulled Cher into a hug. “Thanks so much for your help. I thought black was too depressing for a party but…”

  Cher laughed. “You can say it, Annie. You look hot.”

  The woman, Annie, laughed with her but the girl came back out before she could say anything else. Annie clasped her hands to her chest and aimed one of those proud motherly looks at her daughter.

  She did look much better. The black slacks fit her perfectly and the pale pink blouse and black Mary Janes were youthful enough she didn’t look like a little girl playing dress-up but professional enough that she would fit in at any office.

  “Oh honey,” Annie said, “you look great! You’re going to get that job for sure.”

  The girl smiled and smoothed her hands down the legs of the slacks. “Can I get it?”

  “Of course. Let’s go get changed and then hit the salon.”

  The girl grinned and they headed back to the dressing room.

  Cher looked up and saw Oz. The smile she aimed at him damn near stopped his heart for a second. What the hell? He couldn’t help but smile back. The happiness on her face was contagious.

  He pushed away from his wall and came to stand beside her. He glanced down in her cart and his jaw dropped. Her cart was filled with a couple of frilly dresses, yoga pants, a
few silky bits that put images in his mind that he couldn’t block no matter how hard he tried, and a long slinky bit of silk that must have been a nightgown. There were also shoe boxes, and one of those little shoe hanger thingies holding a much more feminine and appropriate-sized pair of flip flops.

  “I was gone fifteen minutes. Tops,” he said.

  “I know. What took you so long?”

  His mouth opened and shut. If there was an Olympic event for shopping, she’d have the gold. Hands down.

  The mother and daughter came back out of the dressing room and gave Cher a happy wave. “Thanks for all your help!”

  “My pleasure. Have fun at your reunion and good luck with your job interview, Katy.”

  They waved again and headed off. Oz looked down at Cher, his eyebrows raised in question. “Friends of yours?”

  “Just some nice people I ran into over in the dress section. They have everything in this store!” she said with a genuine smile. “I could spend all day here.”

  Oz found himself returning it with a grin of his own.

  “I bet you could. Unfortunately, we need to get back on the road. Let’s check out and get out of here.”

  “Not so fast,” she said, grabbing his arm.

  “What?”

  “Follow me. You need a few things too.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  She pulled him into the men’s department over to a display of men’s slacks.

  “Yes, you do. You have a job interview tomorrow.”

  “I know. I have clothes for that.”

  She bit her flip, frowning.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but I got a peek at your interview outfit when we were at the gas station and you were digging that wonderful article of clothing out of your suitcase,” she said, gesturing to his shirt.

  “Yeah. And?”

  “It’s nice. It’s just…probably not what a New York company is used to people wearing to interviews.”

  He shrugged. She was cringing a little, like she expected him to lash out or be embarrassed. Really, it was more curiosity than anything else that had him asking, “So what would they be expecting?”

  Cher smiled, relief flooding her face, and grabbed a pair of slacks off the rack. She took them off the hanger, holding them up to him. He took a step back.

  “Oh, knock it off and bring your stubborn ass back here.”

  Both eyebrows rose.

  “Look, you want to impress these people, right?”

  Oz nodded, afraid to contradict her while she was holding a blunt object, aka the hanger, so close to his favorite body parts.

  “Well then, it wouldn’t hurt you to jazz things up a bit.”

  Oz straightened, his body going rigid in a knee-jerk reaction to the probably unintentional meaning behind her words. If he wanted to make a good impression, he was going to have to play dress-up and pretend he could hob knob with his “betters.” He’d already known that, so he knew he was being overly sensitive. In fact, if he could have gone out and bought a new suit, he would have. He agreed with everything she was saying.

  But it stung coming out of her mouth.

  “Here,” she said, loading his arms with an assortment of slacks, shirts, ties, and something he thought might be a sweater-vest.

  He held it up. “Really?”

  “Okay, maybe not that.” She took it back and tossed it on the table. “Go try on the rest.”

  He let out a long, suffering sigh but did as Her Highness commanded. And damn, but her choices were pretty decent. More than decent. He looked good. In clothes he never would have chosen for himself. Maybe she was on to something with her whole personal shopper idea. She’d chosen something really great for that girl, too. If that’s what she really did for a living, it somehow seemed a little less frivolous after seeing the smile light up that girl’s face. Cher had made her happy, had really helped her. Maybe that should be something he applauded instead of mocking.

  Thirty seconds after he tugged the first shirt on, she called impatiently from the waiting area. “Let me see!”

  “What?”

  “Come out so I can see?”

  “What am I, five?”

  “Oh, be quiet and come out here.”

  He chuckled. She drove him nuts but she was fun to rile up.

  “Nathaniel?”

  “Oz!”

  She groaned and he laughed harder.

  “All right, keep your shirt on, I’ll be right out.”

  A sudden image of Cher slowly removing her shirt hit him like a fist to the gut and he shook his head to dislodge it. But he couldn’t help wondering what a woman who was so determined to be in control of everything would be like if she were driven so crazy she lost all control. Then again, she didn’t seem to have any control over her own life. That belonged to her family. Maybe that’s what made her fight so hard for control of everything else. She was a walking contradiction in more ways than one. If he tried to figure her out he’d probably have an aneurysm.

  “Nathaniel!”

  “Oh, my God woman, hang on!”

  He finished getting the tie on and took a good look at himself in the mirror. He’d tried on a few different options, but this was his favorite, by far. Surprising, actually. He stepped out of the dressing room and walked toward Cher.

  She straightened from where she’d been leaning against a counter holding watches, her mouth dropping open momentarily before she snapped it shut again.

  Heh. The lady must like what she sees. Oz stood a bit straighter, his thumbs trailing along the waist of the close-fitting, charcoal slacks, making sure the lavender shirt was tucked in all the way. Cher’s eyes followed every movement of his hands. Interesting.

  He ran his hand down the dark purple tie to flatten it against his chest, plastering the material to what he knew were a great set of defined abs. Lavender and purple. Not colors he’d ever in a million years be caught dead in. Colors? Was it two different colors or did it count as different types of the same color? Ah hell, he didn’t know. But he had to give it to her, it looked great, judging by the sudden heat in her eyes.

  That heat…it triggered an answering burning in him. It also scared the hell out of him. They had no call feeling anything for each other but grudging tolerance. Nothing good could come of heat. Besides, if he was seeing what he thought he was seeing it was only because he was all dressed up and fancy like one of her pretty New York boys. And that just wasn’t the real him.

  It was also just as likely she wasn’t feeling anything at all and at that very moment was just trying to figure out why he was staring at her like a dog in the deli case and the look in her eyes was fear he’d suddenly gone completely daft. Which apparently he had.

  “I think that’s the one,” she said, her husky voice breaking the tense silence.

  He blinked and forced a smile. “You think so?”

  “They won’t be able to resist you in that.” The words were so quiet he barely caught what she’d said. Oh, but he’d heard it. He took a step toward her and she took one back.

  Neither one moved again, both frozen in a weird staring contest. Oz wasn’t quite sure what would happen if he let her win. He took one more step toward her and she blinked, dropping her gaze.

  “We better get moving if we want to make New York by midnight.”

  Oz nodded, the weird spell between them broken. He stepped back into the dressing room, not sure he wanted to try and analyze what had just happened. It was probably nothing, anyway. He’d just been stunned by the fact that Cher hadn’t been shooting some hideously offensive sentiment out of her mouth. The fact that he was lying to himself wasn’t a possibility he was ready to accept. Yet.

  “Nathaniel?”

  The sound of her voice right outside the dressing room made him jump.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Toss me your clothes.”

  He laughed, low and deep. “If you want my clot
hes, why don’t you come in here and get them?”

  “Nathaniel!”

  He grinned. He knew what she meant, but she walked right into that one.

  “I just thought I’d go get in line while you’re getting dressed.”

  “You can’t wait another two minutes?”

  Her exasperated sigh filtered through the door and he grinned. “All right, fine.”

  If she wanted his clothes, he’d give them to her. He opened the door and tossed her his tie. “Here.”

  Then he started unbuttoning his shirt. Her eyes flew open, her jaw dropping. She didn’t say a word, just watched as he finished unbuttoning and shrugged out of the shirt. Her gaze remained riveted to his bare chest and he wondered just how long she’d stand there staring. She’d surprised him making it as long as she had. He thought for sure she’d freak out by the second button.

  All right, then. His hands dropped to the button of his pants. That finally jolted her out of her daze.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped and turned around.

  He smiled and closed the door, quickly stripping the pants and tossing them over the door.

  “There. I’ll be out in a few.”

  “I’ll…um, I’ll meet you up front.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  He took his time getting dressed. That strip tease might not have been the wisest course of action. Her reaction had certainly bitten him in the ass. So to speak. The problem was, he hadn’t expected her to have a reaction. A little outrage maybe, some uncomfortable squirming, sure. That open-mouthed, heated, hungry stare that suggested she very much wanted him to keep going? No. That, he wasn’t expecting.

  He took a few deeps breaths, concentrating on safe, non-sexual thoughts until all body parts had returned to their non-full, non-upright positions. They needed to get a move on. He tugged his clothes on and hurried to the front of the store.

  But, when he got to the registers, Cher had already checked out and was waiting near the restrooms, bags in hand. And wearing one of her outfits. A red sundress with little white polka dots that matched her toes, or would if they were visible. At the moment, they were hidden by a pair of bright yellow rain boots that stretched to her knees.