Bidding on Her Boss(8)

That fitted the emerging profile of this woman, but she shook her head.

"I don't want a desk job."

"But you want your career to go places," he pointed out.

"The places I want to go are filled with flowers and customers."

He took a sip of his coffee and replaced the cup on its saucer, giving  himself a moment to think the situation through. "I honestly thought  you'd want this job."

She frowned, her head tilted to the side. "If you'd wanted to do  something nice for me, instead of doing something you thought I'd like,  you could have done what I asked for in the first place."

"Put one of your designs in the catalog of standard arrangements." It seemed obvious now, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

"Bingo." She lifted her coffee cup to her lips, smiling over the rim, her dimples peeking out.

He regarded her as she took a sip and then ran her tongue over her  bottom lip to catch a droplet. In her vivid purple dress and with the  smattering of pale freckles over her nose, she was the brightest thing  in the whole café, as if her own personal beam of sunshine followed her  around and shone down on her wherever she was. Yet the arrangement she'd  made for him to consider had been as conservative as they came. It was a  contradiction he wanted to understand.

He leaned back in the booth and interlaced his fingers on the table.  "Why did you show me such a conservative design that night? It's not who  you are."

For a brief second, her eyes widened. "Who am I?"

He thought back to the first time he'd met her, near the stage at the  auction, to the night he'd kissed her, to the day he'd watched her work  in his store. "You're crab apple, carnation and mint bouquets. You're  mixing wild colors with flair that's uncommon. You're edgy and fresh."  And so much more. "Why didn't you show me any of that?"

Her eyes lit from within. "I didn't think you'd want to see that. I  thought you'd prefer more conservative designs, like the ones already in  the catalog."

"But that's the point." He leaned forward, wanting her to understand  this if nothing else. "We already have designs like that. We don't have  your designs. Hawke's Blooms needs your vision."

An adorable pink flush stole over her face, from her neck up to her cheekbones. "So, you're not mad I turned the job down?"                       
       
           



       

"Mad? No." He rubbed two fingers across his forehead. "It was my  fault-I leapt ahead without talking to you. With any other employee, I  would have researched first, found out what they wanted before making a  decision."

"So, why didn't you?" she asked, her voice soft.

Good question-one he'd been asking himself. And she deserved the real  answer. "To be honest, you've had me off center from the start."

She gave him a rueful smile. "I know how that feels."

He smiled back, and their gazes held for one heartbeat, two. Part of  him was glad he wasn't the only one off kilter-that it was the result of  some inconvenient mutual chemistry-but another part of him wished it  had been more one-sided. That he could justify to himself that reaching  across the table for her now would be an unwelcome advance, and  reinforce that he had to keep his hands to himself.

What they needed was a new start. He drew in a deep breath and pushed  his cup to the side. "How about we forget the promotion and you continue  working in this store for now. I know the customers here will be glad  to keep you."

"I'd like that," she said with a quick nod.

She glanced in the direction of her store, and a thought suddenly  occurred to him. This wouldn't be a new start for her-he already  suspected Faith's manager might resent her, and now she'd be heading  back into that same environment after turning down a promotion. That  could get awkward fast. He'd made a complete mess of this from start to  finish.

"You know," he said, thinking on his feet, "another option is to move  to a different store. I can think of a few managers who'd welcome  someone with your skills and ability to form rapport with customers."

"Thank you, I appreciate the offer but I'm happy here." She turned her  wrist over and checked her watch. "Speaking of which, I'd better get  back."

He resisted a chuckle. Many of his employees would try to drag out  their one-on-one time with him, especially if they'd already spent money  on an opportunity to impress him. Not Faith. "You realize you're out  with the person in charge of the entire chain of stores, right? You're  not playing hooky."

She shook her head, unmoved by his reasoning. "We have a lot of orders to fill before I clock off."

"What time do you finish today?" he asked, an idea forming in his head as he said the words.

"Three o'clock."

"That's in two hours. How about I pick you up then and we go on our  second date?" Since she wouldn't let him buy the dates back from her, it  was probably better to get them out of the way as soon as was  practical.

"Sure," she said as she stood. "But do me a favor and don't come back to the store. It won't help my popularity in there."

It was a reasonable point. He liked that she thought that way. She  could have used the opportunity to gain points against her manager,  perhaps engage in a game of one-upmanship, but he'd come to see that  wasn't the way Faith operated.

He pushed a paper napkin across the table and took a pen from the  inside pocket of his jacket. "Give me your address and I'll drop by your  place at about three-thirty."

She leaned over and wrote her address on the napkin before pushing it back to him and leaving.

He watched her walk out, taking in the sway of her hips as she moved,  and then looked down at the napkin in his hand. After her address, she'd  written four words. I like the beach.

A grin spread across his face. He was already looking forward to this afternoon way too much.





      Four

By three-twenty, Faith was waiting at her front door. She wanted to be  ready to dash down the front steps when Dylan arrived because the last  thing she needed was him knocking on her door. Being alone with him  would lead to the possibility of her dragging him inside and repeating  that kiss. And knowing there was a bed in the next room couldn't be good  in that situation...

The beach suggestion had come from the same train of thought-she knew  they had to go somewhere public. Though she'd also wanted it to be  informal so she had a chance to question him casually and get more  insight into what he was looking for with the catalog, to make her next  attempt more likely to succeed. She had high hopes of getting the  information while sitting next to him on the sand and not having to look  him in the eye.                       
       
           



       

At three twenty-seven, his Porsche convertible drew up, and she pulled  her front door shut behind her, hiked her beach bag higher on her  shoulder and jogged down the concrete stairs to the road. She loved the  idea of owning a convertible, of having the wind in her hair as she  drove, but the sheer expense of the model Dylan owned simply served to  reinforce the differences between them.

"Have you got your swimsuit in that bag?" he asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

Was he kidding? Being half-naked in his presence could be disastrous.  And seeing him in board shorts, his bare chest dripping with water...?  Yeah, that was only going to lead to trouble. Whether they'd be in  public or not, her willpower had its limits.

Though, she thought as she glanced over and took in the  red-and-white-striped T-shirt that bunched around his biceps and  stretched across his shoulders, perhaps his covered chest wasn't going  to be much easier to cope with.

She faced the windshield and shrugged. "I was thinking more along the  lines of sitting on a towel with the sand between my toes."

"That sounds safer," he said as he pulled away from the curb.

So he was still having trouble, too. Interesting. They talked about the  weather and made other small talk until he found a park and they  stepped out into the sunshine.

He looked down at her Hawaiian print bag. "Did you bring a towel, or should I get the picnic blanket?"

"You keep a picnic blanket in your car?" She couldn't help the smile-it  seemed such a sweet thing for a playboy like Dylan to do. Although  maybe he used it to seduce women under the stars...? Her smile faded.

"My brother Liam and I took his daughters, Bonnie and Meg, for a picnic  a couple of weeks ago. The blanket is still in the back."

Her smile returned. She'd read the newspaper stories about Liam Hawke's  engagement to Princess Jensine of Larsland-everybody had-and seen the  photos of Liam's tiny baby, Bonnie, and Jenna's daughter, Meg, who was  only a few months older than Bonnie. She just hadn't quite imagined  Dylan actually interacting with the little girls. Which was probably  unfair-by all accounts, the three brothers were close.