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on the back wall, where she’d hung merchandise for kids. The coat hooks were empty at the moment. But when Jeff slammed against the wall, somehow his slightly threadbare jeans got snagged, so when the ladder pivoted again, Jeff didn’t pivot with it. Instead, he was left behind, hanging there on the wall for a moment, suspended by the seat of his pants.
    That didn’t last very long. There was an audible riiiiippp as his jeans split. Jeff came down, dumped unceremoniously onto Melissa’s favorite beanbag chair. His pants stayed put, snarled in the coat hook, his legs still caught in them.
    “Good God,” the duchess said.
    Which was totally an understatement, because Jeff had started his day without underwear.
    Melissa was momentarily stunned by the view, which probably explained why she was a little late in coming to Jeff’s aid. But that was okay because the beanbag chair had cushioned his fall. He shucked off his shoes, disentangled his legs, and covered his private parts with those manly hands of his.
    Even so, the view was stirring. Especially when he stood up and streaked into the back room, slamming the door behind his incredibly hot backside.

Chapter Five
    D amn.
    It was bad losing his pants. Although he still wasn’t sure exactly how that had happened. One moment he’d been up on the ladder, and the next he’d been stuck to the wall and then falling.
    A flush of embarrassment heated his body from head to toe. This was his penance for not doing his laundry. Although he had to admit he didn’t mind Melissa seeing his junk, and in the nanosecond before he covered himself, she’d certainly been looking. With interest.
    Being half naked in Melissa’s presence didn’t suck. Not so much with Aunt Pam though.
    Why the hell was Pam here? Of all the places in Shenandoah Falls, this was the last place he’d ever expected his aunt to visit. Had she recognized him?
    He eased the door open a crack, just large enough to see the checkout counter where Pam and Melissa were talking.
    “So, Melissa,” Pam said in her Tennessee drawl, “I see you’ve been making improvements. I’m so glad. Maybe my visit is well timed.” She cleared her throat, then glanced toward the scene of his disrobing. “Who was that man?”
    He tensed. Pam would figure it out if Melissa said his name.
    “Just the new helper,” Melissa said, thank God.
    “Uh-huh.” Pam paused for a long moment as she swept her gaze over the store’s interior before turning back toward Melissa. “Darlin’, I know your grandmother had a blind spot about some things. But we both know her determination never to mortgage this property was old-fashioned.”
    “She had her reasons,” Melissa said, crossing her arms over the Sleeping Beauty T-shirt she was wearing today.
    “Well, yes, I suppose she did. But look, we need your help. The Town Council and the Liberty Avenue Property Owners Association have agreed to move forward with a request for a block grant to revitalize the historic structures downtown. That means we need every property owner between Lord Fairfax Highway and Sixth Street to agree to a special assessment that will provide the matching funds for the project.”
    “Every property owner? That means the Lyndon Companies and me, right? And when you say a special assessment, you mean a special tax, don’t you?” Melissa sounded downright belligerent. Her body language said it all. She didn’t like Aunt Pam.
    Pam spoke again. “It’s true that the Lyndon Companies owns more buildings than anyone else, but there are a total of five additional landowners, including yourself. And an assessment is not a tax.”
    “Oh, okay, how is it different?”
    “To begin with, it’s voluntary. But those who chip in will get matching funds to renovate their storefronts. By participating, you’ll save a lot of money on the storefront renovations needed to get this building listed on the historic register. And, darlin’, this building is worthy of that