Page 31 of Love Undercover
He’d already scoped the rows and found foods that probably would suit her—organic, non-GMO, etc—and briefly wondered what was wrong with him that he was catering to her this much. But he could admit as he swung down the coffee aisle, scoping the bags for something organic and fair-trade, that he was stalling.
Did he want to pick out underwear and a bra for a woman staying in his home? Absolutely. But under the right circumstances. Not like this. Not when he knew he couldn’t do anything about the way his hands hungered for the feel of her bare skin, the contours of her hourglass figure.
He gritted his teeth, knocking the bag of coffee into the basket he held, and practically stomped his way to the intimates section.
She’d said comfortable. Cotton. But he was met with too many choices. Sports bras, underwire, no underwire, cotton, lace—fuck. That wasn’t a mental image he could have in his head and remain sane.
“You look a little overwhelmed. Do you want some help?”
He jerked to look at the shriveled old lady who’d approached. The panic must have been apparent on his face.
“Ah, yeah. A bra for. . . my girlfriend. Something comfortable? These things don’t seem comfortable,” he said, holding one up that was stiff and structured, labeled as an underwire.
“What’s her size, sweetheart? Sometimes it doesn’t matter that it doesn’tseemcomfortable. A certain size requires a little more support.“ She gave him a wink.
He held the paper for her to see.
“Yes, she’ll want the underwire. But you are right that this one isn’t as comfortable.” She took the one he held and set it back on the hook, reaching for a different one. “This one is popular with the young ladies.”
“Sold.” He took it from her. “How about underwear?”
She led him to a different rack and pulled a pack of six off the hook and handed it to him. Good enough for him.
“Thanks,” he said, squinting at her name tag, “Edna.”
“Sure thing, honey. It’s very sweet of you to shop for your girlfriend, but you know, it’s a lot easier for a lady to pick her own undergarments.”
“Yeah. Believe me, next time she will.” He dipped his head because it seemed like something a gentleman would do, and she grinned like a fiend, showing off her overly white, unnaturally straight dentures.
He felt something tickle along his hairline and swiped at it, surprised to find that he was sweating. Damn, what this woman was doing to him in a mere forty-eight hours.
Breaking plan, putting his entire undercover operation in jeopardy, making him think thoughts he’d left little room for, had him buying her freaking underwear, organic coffee, all-natural toothpaste.
And all he could think about suddenly was the way she’d bitten her lip and looked up at him from under her lashes. The first few times hadn’t been intentional on her part, but it still slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
But that last time. . .
Oh, this woman. She hadn’t known it then, but she knew now.
“Sir?”
Chase jerked out of his thoughts at the prodding of the woman behind him and walked to the available self-checkout register.
He yanked everything across the scanner, practically throwing every item into the grocery bag. Several shoppers glanced over at him, mildly alarmed.
He was used to being gawked at—being as tall as he was. He was foreboding in stature alone, but his years of work building a muscular physique and his naturally broody expression sometimes made him look downright dangerous.
And here he was grumbling and grunting, angrily throwing stuff around. He needed to chill out before he drew unwanted attention to himself.
As he tossed the bags into the passenger seat of his car, he began to wonder why lace wasn’t comfortable. And then, realizing just what it did to him to think aboutthatimage and how uncomfortable it made him, he decided it wasn’t a thought worth pursuing.
He checked the clock as he turned into the long, winding drive, gauging that he’d been gone about an hour, maybe a little more.
The house came into view, and his gut suddenly twisted with nerves. The relief he’d felt at her guessing the truth had been so consuming, it nearly knocked his knees loose.
But he knew she wasn’t one hundred percent certain he was trustworthy. Still, it was a start, and he’d take what he could get. Especially if it meant she wouldn’t attack him again.
He put the car in park and absently rubbed at his throat where his skin was still a little tender to the touch. He had to give her some serious credit for the effort and what she’d accomplished against him—a much larger opponent who had more hand-to-hand training.
