Blind Attraction (2 page)

Her other “employee” was her best friend Taylor Danner, though Taylor was more of a delegator rather than worker; and she didn’t get paid.
Taylor pretty much just hung out when she felt like it, volunteering her services to help out her best friend. Victoria loved the amount of time Taylor spent at the small shop; it always made the work go by faster when her friend was there to keep up the chatter. Especially since Victoria was just getting her shop up and running.

Even though the store was technically open for business, there was still so much to do before the grand opening in a little less than two weeks.
As Victoria hauled a heavy box to the back room, she wished that she had a clone to keep an eye on the store front. Taylor had volunteered to come in early but Victoria hated taking so much advantage of her best friend. Sure, Taylor was incredibly wealthy and claimed she had nothing better to do with her time than hang out at a specialty shop but Victoria still felt guilty.

With an unladylike grunt, she set the box down and wiped the back of her arm across her forehead, a bemused smile on her lips. Taylor thought opening
a shop was a sweet idea but Victoria was attractive enough to snare a wealthy husband. While Victoria wanted to marry, she wasn’t going to wait around for Mr. Right. She knew Taylor meant well, they just had different goals for their lives.

Taylor
was mind boggling beautiful with her baby-blond hair and exotic amber brown eyes, her perfect five-foot-ten-inch willowy body. It was enough to make men beg and any woman green with jealousy. But not Victoria, who had been Taylor’s best friend since the third grade when the two of them were seated next to each other, their last names Davis and Danner. For sixteen years, Victoria was Robin to Taylor’s Batman; Chewbacca to Taylor’s Han Solo; Betty to Veronica. They were closer than most sisters.

It
wasn’t that Victoria wasn’t pretty, just compared to Taylor, she was simply Victoria. Taylor was Paris nights and Italian beaches; Victoria was the girl next door. Her hair was long and dark blond; she had a slender frame and decent curves with average features set in an oval face. She was of average height with pale skin, since the sun made her burn then freckle. Her one exceptional feature, if anyone happened to notice, were her large, violet eyes. But once a guy saw Taylor, Victoria just sort of disappeared; which never bothered Victoria because Taylor was so Taylor it was impossible to hate her.

Taylor was so dazzling
and she was used to getting by on her breath-taking beauty. It didn’t help that Taylor’s mom, the socialite Phoebe Danner, encouraged her daughter to trade on her looks. According to Mrs. Danner, Taylor was old enough to get married; after all, twenty-four was practically on the shelf. And the biggest fish wanted trophy wives, it didn’t matter if a brain was included or not. Mrs. Danner accepted Victoria because the girl was no threat to her daughter’s, or rather her own, ambitions; men certainly didn’t want a fresh-faced girl with a smattering of freckles on her pert nose.

Walking back out to the front,
Victoria surveyed the small, intimate shop that specialized in fantasy and romance. Novels and magazines were in one area; movies, music and other media in another; there were special areas for single romance and more adventurous romance; and oils, lotions, potions, all sorts of things romantic were dotted throughout the store. Beautiful artwork hung on the walls; some famous reproductions, some local artists, ranging from that fantastic to the erotic, from the profound to the profane.

With a satisfied smile, she looked around the little shop with a huge measure of pride. It was finally something she could call her own. Well, in theory; the bank owned it. Still, she was the one who envisioned it and planned it out and executed the plan. Mrs. Danner could keep her elevated circles and find her daughter a rich husband;
Victoria was content in her little corner of the world.

The bell over the door chimed and
Victoria stepped out from behind the register to greet her first customer of the morning. Her breath caught in her throat as the most magnificent man stepped into the shop… with a pile of clothes on his arm. How peculiar. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was: short, dark hair; sculpted face with broad cheek bones and a chiseled jaw, a straight nose, a mouth that was luscious, with lips that were full and decadent. His eyes were hidden behind black shades but she could imagine the power in his stare; he simply exuded self-confidence. He was entirely too… delicious.

He
was also tall; lord he had to be over six feet; her eyes were level with his delectable chin and she was wearing four-inch heels. Judging by the way he filled out his jacket, he was either extremely well-toned or his jacket was padded. Still, he was carrying a bunch of clothes and acted as if it were perfectly normal to be carrying them into her shop.

A little taken aback by the incongruous sight, she ran her hands over her hair, hoping to tame the flyaway strands; then over her pants, trying to flatten the permanent wrinkles. Though she didn’t know why she bothered; a guy like that preferred the Tay
lors of the world. “Can I help you, sir?”

Holding up his shirts, he s
miled a devastating smile, “I’m dropping off my laundry; I need this suit and these shirts cleaned by tomorrow.”

Victoria
’s mouth opened as she tried to figure out what the guy was talking about; obviously God gave the man looks but slighted him in the brain department. “I’m sorry, sir, but the dry cleaners is next door.”

“Ah,” he smiled a bit sheepishly, bringing his shirts back to his chest. “Then this must be that new store that was opening up.”

“Yes,” Victoria murmured, moving closer, unusually drawn to the stranger.

“And you’re the owner?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in an oddly appealing way.
Victoria found herself mirroring his movement as her eyes drifted over him.

“I am,” she answered, noticing the white cane in his free hand and feeling guilty for jumping to the
conclusion that he was insane. He was merely blind.

Shifting his cane to the arm that held his clothes, he held out his hand, “James Templeton.”

Feeling as if something monumental was happening, Victoria took his much larger hand in hers and felt the
zing
all the way down to her toes. Clearing her throat, she murmured, “Victoria Davis.”

Holding her hand, he swallow
ed thickly before he could speak. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You, too,” she said, not taking her hand from his, unable to take her eyes off his face. The dark glasses only intrigued her further; not taking away from his sculpted features.

“I could have sworn the drycleaners was the third door,” he told her after a long moment of not uncomfortable silence. Offering an explanation of why he would mistake her shop for the drycleaners, he continued, “The doctor said it was too soon to be out but I was determined.”

Victoria
absorbed what he was saying and came to the conclusion that his blindness was a recent event. Her fingers tightened their grip on his hand as she stepped closer, until the back of her hand brushed against his chest. “Do you mind if I asked how it happened?”

The corner of his mouth curved upwards in a sexy, half-smile, “It’s like my grandma always told me, too much masturbation.”

With a gasp of startled laughter, she stepped back, loosening her grip on his hand. But he didn’t let her go; instead he closed the distance between them, still holding her hand. His scent filled her head, a clean, masculine aroma that reminded her of silk sheets on a moonless night. His breath moved over her cheek as he explained, “I was in a car accident.”

Victoria
’s body stilled at how calmly he spoke, the timbre of his voice playing havoc in her head, even as he talked about masturbation and car accidents. Studying his face, she couldn’t find any scars, or anything that would indicate an injury resulting in blindness. Of course, he was wearing dark sunglasses, so it was possible that he simply didn’t have eyes anymore. A slight shiver ran through her body at the idea of this poor man losing not only his sight, but his eyeballs as well.

“Are you all right?” he asked,
the concern apparent in his sexy as sin voice.

“I am,” she managed. Her heart went out to him; he was so brave; how did he manage to keep his humor about something so horrible? Shyly, softly, she asked, “Is it weird?”

“Is what weird?” he asked slowly, slightly confused.

Leaning closer, until her breasts brushed against his coat, she whispered, “Not having eyeballs?”

He released her hand and she knew that he was removing his sunglasses but she couldn’t look. When she didn’t say anything, he questioned. “Victoria?”

“Yes?” she asked, her voice coming out as a squeak. She refused to open her eyes; she didn’t want to see the openings in his perfect face. She was imagining being able to see his brain. Maybe it was like those creepy guys on Buffy with those strange markings over their eyes, like scar tissue, or….

“Victoria, it’s okay to look,” he said, stifling his laughter.

Letting one eye crack open just a bit, she felt like a fool when gorgeous green eyes looked unseeingly
back at her. With a sigh of relief, and a blush of mortification, she opened her eyes all the way. Catching her lower lip with her teeth, she leaned even closer than before, examining his eyes to see if he really couldn’t see. God, they were the most striking shade of green; like wet grass in the summer, or tide pools in the Caribbean. And they were framed by the longest, thickest, blackest eye lashes ever; lashes that a woman would kill for. In a breathless whisper, she said, “They’re beautiful.”

Her breasts were pressed against his chest again and
a jolt of electricity shot down her spine. Reaching out, he grabbed her arm below the elbow, steadying her as he murmured, “Thank you.”

Blushing, she slid her arm out of his grasp until her hand came into contact with his. Uncomfortable
with her overly indulged imagination, she realized that it was time for him to go, before he decided she needed to be committed, or something. God, how could she be so foolish? Blindness wasn’t the lack of eyes; it was the lack of sight. She could have kicked herself, but her balance on heels was precarious on the best of days. The last thing she needed to do was fall on her butt in front of this gorgeous, fascinating stranger.

Holding his hand, she gave a slight tug to indicate that she would lead him. He gladly followed
, pausing only a moment, a sound escaping on an exhalation of breath, “Huh.”

Victoria
paused, looking over her shoulder and seeing the strangest expression on James’s handsome face. He seemed on the verge of discovering something, something important having to do with her; but that was just fanciful thinking. “What is it?”

He simply smiled at her, “Nothing…. I appreciate this,
Victoria.”

She smiled, and realized that he couldn’t see. Blushing harder, she coughed, “It’s no problem. Um, how did you get here if, well, if you can’t see?” 

“James!” a woman’s voice called out. Victoria turned her head and saw a woman walking determinedly towards them, her sleek blond hair pulled back and her blue eyes flashing. She was dressed in an elegant, designer suit and as she came to a stop, she shook her head in dismay. Gathering the shirts from James’s arms, she scolded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I stepped out of the car for a moment and you go and disappear.”

“Hey, Catherine,” he grinned awkwardly. Still holding
Victoria’s hand, he pulled her forward, releasing her as he made the introduction. “I’d like you to meet Victoria, who has been kind enough to help a poor, old blind man find the dry cleaners; Victoria, my dearly devoted, overly protective assistant, Catherine Isaacson.”

Catherine glanced over
at the girl, a slight frown marring her smooth forehead as she looked at Victoria. Smoothing her expression, Catherine held out her hand and smiled dispassionately, “It’s a pleasure to meet you; and thank you for helping this stubborn man; I swear, he’s making me go prematurely gray. Thank God he pays me very well.”

With an amused
grin, Victoria shook the other woman’s hand, the cool fingers in such contrast to her own over-heated flesh. Catherine was awfully stylish and exceedingly beautiful, just like Taylor. Feeling a bit self-conscious in her casual outfit, Victoria pulled her hand back, blushing, “It wasn’t a problem. It was nice to meet you, James. Catherine.”

She turned to leave, feeling very frumpy compared to the stunning duo standing there. Warm, strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm preventing her immediate escape. Looking over her shoulder, she saw James looking at her.
Er, um, well, he seemed to be looking at her, even though he couldn’t see. This was so awkward. Turning, his hand still on her arm, she looked at him. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me.” Pausing, he
grinned a rueful little smile. God, it was sexy. “You know, so I can thank you for helping out.”

“It really wasn’t a problem,” she said, not understanding why he would want to spend more time with her; she was simply
Victoria. But then the realization dawned on her; he couldn’t see her. That thought should have made her feel guilty but when had a man as intriguing as James ever shown any interest in her? Or more to the point, how many men continued to show interest in her after meeting Taylor? That really wasn’t fair. Maybe the men she dated were idiots. Besides, there was something to be said about that
zing
. Licking her lips, she swallowed, “I mean, that would be nice.”