Bidding on Her Boss(27)

"Hello?"

"Hi, is that Faith Crawford?"

Seven minutes later, Faith disconnected the call and fell onto the sofa.

She'd just been offered a job. A dream job. A nationally syndicated  gardening variety show in New York had been looking for a florist to add  to their team of gardeners and landscapers, and they'd seen her work on  the San Diego show. Her role would be to teach people about flower  arranging in a regular segment, but also to travel with a producer and  record stories on high-profile floral arrangements-the ones found in the  White House, in cathedrals, at big events. She'd be paid to study up  close the very designs she hoped to be making one day, make contacts and  share her love of flowers with a huge audience.

Yet she'd hesitated. The producer had given her a day to think about  it-if she wasn't interested, they needed to know soon so they could  approach someone else.

The job was full-time and in New York. She'd have to move across the  country. Leave Dylan. A white-hot pain pierced her chest and she had  trouble drawing a breath. Could she do it? It was unthinkable. But what  if she turned the job down and stayed? When this thing with Dylan  fizzled out, she'd be left without him and the dream job. And in the  meantime, she'd still be working for him, so they'd have to keep  sneaking around so no one guessed they were breaking company rules.

Outside, his car pulled up. She stood, tucking her hair firmly behind  her ears and trying to pull herself together. What would she say to him?  She'd never been more torn in her life. She might love Dylan, but her  career had been her constant, the rock in her life. She had to take the  incredible job offer in New York. To do anything less would be cheating  herself and banking on a dream that could never come true.

She pulled open the front door and was confronted by the only man who'd  ever touched her heart. He leaned down and kissed her and she sank into  him, trying to create a memory, because she had no idea how he would  react once she told him.

* * *

When they finished dinner, Faith gathered the plates and headed for the  kitchen, almost as if she was escaping. Dylan followed, determined to  find out what was on her mind, since she'd avoided his prodding while  they ate.

"You've been distracted all through dinner," he said, standing behind  her at the sink and massaging her shoulders. "Which is a shame, because  that was the best vegetable lasagna I've had-and I'm not sure you even  tasted it as you ate."                       
       
           



       

She turned in his arms, searching his gaze. "There's something I need to tell you."

"I'm right here." He smiled indulgently and smoothed a bright red curl back from her face.

"I had a job offer today." Her gaze didn't waver-she was watching for his reaction.

He rubbed her arms up and down, wanting to reassure her. He didn't own  her. The businessman side of him hoped she'd stay at Hawke's Blooms, but  the man in a relationship with her just wanted her to be happy.

"I'm not surprised. You've been doing high-profile work-one of our competitors was bound to headhunt you at some stage."

"It isn't one of your competitors," she said, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Who was it?"

She named the show and he let out a long whistle. "Isn't that recorded in New York?"

"The job is located there. I'd have to move."

His gut clenched as her words hit home. "What did you tell them?"

"That I'd think about it." She looked at the counter as she spoke.

He withdrew his hands and dug them into his pockets, not liking where this was headed. "And have you thought?"

She hesitated, then said, "There are so many factors to consider. I don't know what to do."

He let out a relieved breath and pulled her against his chest. "If you're not sure, then don't take it."

"Why?" she asked, her voice partly muffled by his shirt.

"I think we have something special here. Between us. If you stay, we  can see where it goes." In fact, this conversation had been something of  a wakeup call. He'd been happy enough going along, spending time  together, making love when they could, but now that the possibility of  separation had been raised, he was completely aware of how much she  meant to him. He wasn't letting her go.

"Dylan," she began, but he cut her off.

"Don't decide just yet." He leaned in and placed a trail of kisses  along the line of her jaw. "Give us a chance." He moved to her earlobe.  He tugged it gently with his teeth and then pulled it into his mouth.  She gasped and he smiled against her skin. What they had was too  strong-she wouldn't leave him. And he'd never leave her.

Digging his fingers into her wild curls, he tipped her head back and  claimed her mouth. Even though it had been less than twenty-four hours,  it felt like forever since he'd kissed her, and he made up for the lost  time. Weeks of having her in his bed at night hadn't slaked his desire  for her; if anything, they had increased it. Whenever his mind wandered  at work, it was always Faith it went to. The sound of her laugh, her  dimples, the warmth of her mouth on him, the way her hips moved when she  walked.

Her arms snaked around his waist, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt at the  back, holding him in place. He loved the way she wanted him as fiercely  as he wanted her.

He spun them around, away from the counter, and pressed her against the  wall, kissing her, relishing the feel of her curves against him. He  hooked a hand under her knee and lifted, pulling her pelvis closer, and  he groaned at the delicious pressure. No woman had ever affected him  this deeply or made him want this hungrily.

When her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, fumbling in her  haste, his heart beat so hard against his ribs that she must have felt  it under her hands. Finally she made it to the last button and pushed  aside his cotton shirt, spreading her palms over his chest. It was as if  her hands were magic; everywhere she touched she left a path of sparks,  drawing him further under her spell.

Her top had a bow behind her neck, and when he pulled the end, the knot  came undone. She wasn't wearing a bra, so as he peeled the front of her  top down, he bared her breasts to his gaze. He cupped them with  reverent hands, lifting them to meet his mouth, making her writhe  against him and murmur his name. His blood heated, his pulse raced, he  was helpless and she was everything.

As she undid the top button on his trousers and dipped her hand inside  his pants and encircled him, he hissed out a breath between his teeth,  then again as she slowly moved her hand up and down. He dropped his head  to her shoulder. He was hers. No question, she owned him. After  tonight, he'd make sure they were always together.

Suddenly unable to wait a moment longer, he grabbed the condom from his  pocket and took off his trousers and boxers before doing the same with  her underwear, not bothering to remove her skirt, just lifting it out of  the way. She took the condom from him and rolled it down his length,  wrapping a leg around his waist again. This time he lifted her hips,  supporting her weight so that she could wrap her other leg around him as  well, and then brought her down on top of him. Her sharp intake of  breath mirrored his, and he paused to take in the beauty of the moment,  of the sensations she evoked in his body and in his heart.                       
       
           



       

Tensing her legs, she moved up and slowly down again, and he whispered raggedly, "I love you."

The only sign that she'd heard was that her movements became faster,  and he met her stroke for stroke, telling her how beautiful she was,  loving the way the flesh of her bottom filled his hands. He grew more  frantic, loving her, feeling the rising tension in his entire body.

He was near the edge, so close to falling over, but he held on,  hovering, unwilling to go alone. He reached down between them, found her  most sensitive spot and caressed until she exploded, moaning his name,  contracting around him so tightly that he couldn't hold a moment longer.  He let go, calling out the name of the woman he loved.

* * *

When Faith woke the next morning, she was alone. She reached out to  feel the other side of her bed and found it rumpled but cold. Rising  quickly, she slipped on a robe and padded through the apartment, finding  no trace of Dylan.

A small part of her was relieved. She'd made a decision during the  night to take the job and didn't think she could face telling him just  yet. She knew that was cowardly-of course it was-but how could she face  the man she loved and tell him she was leaving? Instead, when they'd  made love, she'd said goodbye with her touch. In every silent way she  could.