Bidding on Her Boss(5)

He sighed and stepped from his car. No use wasting energy wanting what he couldn't have. She worked for him. End of story.

But that didn't stop him from wondering how this particular store was  doing. Despite rejecting Faith's arrangement himself, he'd been left  wondering if her manager was doing all she could for the advancement of  her staff if Faith had put in twenty applications to the catalog of  standard arrangements and not one had made it through to the head  office.

Sure, he'd rejected the one he'd seen last night, but given Faith's  enthusiasm and skill, a good, supportive manager should have found a way  to guide her toward a more appropriate arrangement by now. Perhaps even  submitted one or two just to encourage her. Yes, it was definitely time  he had a closer look at how this store-and the other stores-were doing.

As he stepped through the front door and removed his aviator  sunglasses, the manager, Mary O'Donnell, looked up and waved  enthusiastically.

"Mr. Hawke!" she called, her voice obsequious. "So good to see you.  Here, Faith, take over this arrangement. I need to talk to Mr. Hawke."

At the mention of his name, Faith froze, then looked up like a deer  caught in headlights. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and he  was assailed by memories of her mouth. Of how incredible it had felt  under his. Of how it had opened to allow his tongue entry. Before he  could forget all the reasons not to kiss her again, he determinedly drew  his gaze to Mary O'Donnell.                       
       
           



       

"No need," he said. "I'm here for the day. Don't stop what you're doing-I just want to get a feel for the store."

"You haven't done an all-day inspection for quite a while." Mary shot a  suspicious glance around the room. "Is there a problem?"

"Just continuing a procedure that worked well for us in the past. I've  let it slip a bit as we've grown, but I'll be working my way around to  all the stores in the coming months."

"And we're first?" she asked, pride beaming from her features.

"Yes, you are." He'd let her think it was a compliment. Plus, it was a  much more professional reason than the fact that he hadn't been able to  stop thinking about one of her employees.

"Well, in that case, let me introduce you to the team." She grabbed a  middle-aged blonde woman by the wrist and dragged her over. "This is  Courtney. She's our senior florist. If you want any bouquets made to  take home at the end of the day, Courtney's your woman."

"Good to meet you, Courtney," he said, shaking her hand.

Courtney smiled openly. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Hawke. Though, if  you don't mind, I need to finish this order before the courier arrives  in a few minutes?"

"Of course," he said and watched her go back to work on one of the long  benches. She seemed efficient and nice enough, and the arrangement she  was working on was good.

"And this is our other florist, Faith Crawford," the manager said,  pointing in Faith's direction. He watched the reactions of the other two  women closely, checking to see if they knew Faith was the person who'd  won the bid at the auction, but neither gave anything away. Interesting.  Faith obviously hadn't told them, and the company grapevine hadn't  caught up with the news yet. Most of the staff from the head office had  been at the auction the other night, but even if they'd managed to get a  good look at Faith in the dim light, it seemed none had recognized her.

He glanced over at her now. She had a bright yellow Hawke's Blooms  apron covering the halter top he could see peeking out from underneath.  Her curly red hair was caught up in a clip on the top of her head. She  looked up and he paused, waiting to see her reaction. Her eyes flicked  to her manager, then back to him. He wasn't comfortable with an outright  lie to his employees-it was probable that the information would  circulate around the company at some point, and he didn't want to be  caught in a lie-but that didn't mean he had to share all the details of  their short history.

"Ms. Crawford and I have met before," he said as a compromise.

The manager's eyes darted between them, looking for snippets of  information, so he cut her off at the pass. "Do you have an apprentice  in this store?"

"Oh, yes. Sharon. But she's not in until lunchtime on Mondays."

He nodded and took off his sport coat. Instead of his usual work attire  of a business suit, today he'd worn a polo shirt and casual  trousers-closer to the clothes the staff in-store wore. "Before she gets  here, I'll do the sweeping and answering the phone. Wherever you need  an extra pair of hands."

Unbidden, his gaze tracked to where Faith worked at her bench, and he  found that she'd looked up at him at the same time. Wherever you need an  extra pair of hands... He could still feel his hands in her hair,  cupping her cheek, under her chin.

A pink flush crept up Faith's neck to her cheeks, and he knew she was  remembering the same thing. He cleared his throat and looked away.

If he was going to make it through the day without letting everyone  know he'd kissed his employee, he would have to do better at keeping his  thoughts firmly under control.

* * *

It had been two hours since Dylan had appeared in the doorway, looking  as if he'd just stepped off a photo shoot for a story entitled "What the  Suave CEOs Are Wearing This Season." She'd spent those two hours trying  to pretend he wasn't in the room, just so she could get her work done.

But every time he swept up the clippings from where she was working, or  he handed her a slip of paper with an order that had come in over the  phone, she lost the battle and was plunged back into those moments when  they'd been in this very spot, at night, alone.

And occasionally, when their eyes met, she thought she saw the same memory lurking in his.

But she couldn't let herself be sidetracked. She needed to impress the  businessman, Mr. Hawke, not the red-blooded Dylan who'd kissed her  senseless. Men came and went, but this particular man could help her  career. It was Mr. Hawke she needed to impress with what she could do.                       
       
           



       

They'd had a steady stream of orders in person, over the phone and on  their website, and she was glad. It gave her an excuse not to talk to  Dylan-no, Mr. Hawke-just yet. He'd sat with Courtney earlier and had a  cup of coffee, asking her about her job and ideas for the store, and  said he'd be doing the same with all the staff members.

The bell above the door dinged, and she looked up, smiling to see one of her favorite customers.

"Hi, Tom," she said, heading for the fridge. "How was your weekend?"

"Not long enough," he said ruefully. "Yours?"

Her eyes flicked to Dylan, who was thumbing through their order book,  his dark reddish-brown hair rumpled, his sport coat gone and his tie  loosened. His hand hesitated and his chest expanded as if he'd taken a  deep breath.

"How about I go with interesting," she said, turning back to her customer.

Tom laughed. "Sounds as if there's a story there."

"My life is never dull." She reached into the fridge and drew out the  assorted foliage she'd put to the side earlier. "I found some fresh mint  at the markets this morning, as well as these cute little branches of  crab apples. How does that sound?"

"Like a winner. Emmie loved the daisy and rosemary bouquet last week."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan watching the conversation  and then moving to her elbow. He put his hand out to Tom. "Hi, I'm Dylan  Hawke, CEO of the Hawke's Blooms retail chain."

"Wow, the big boss," Tom said, winking at Faith.

Dylan turned to her. "You bought crab apples and mint yourself for this  bouquet?" His tone was mild, but his focus had narrowed in on her like a  laser pointer. "This sounds interesting. Can you talk me through the  thinking behind your plan?"

Her stomach clenched tight. She'd wanted the attention of the  businessman side of him, and now she had it, which was great. But if he  thought what she was doing was too bizarre, then she might have lost her  chance to win his approval. A second strike against her in a row might  be too much to overcome.

All she could do was paste on a smile and do her job.

"Tom comes in each Monday to pick up some flowers for his wife," she  said, her gaze on the work her hands were doing. "Emmie is blind, so I  always put some thought into combinations that she can enjoy."

"You picked up the mint on your way in?" Dylan asked, his tone not giving anything away.

She nodded. "Monday mornings I leave home a bit earlier and drop in at  the flower markets, looking for some inspiration. We usually go outside  the standard range of flowers that the store stocks to get the right  elements for Emmie's bouquet. I like something fragrant-" she picked up  the mint "-and something tactile-" she pointed to the crab apple branch  "-along with the usual assortment of flowers."