Bidding on Her Boss(9)

She hitched the bag over her shoulder. "No, I have a towel."

He nodded and set the keyless lock. They found a spot on the white sand  to spread out her towel. The beach was fairly quiet, so there was no  one else close enough to hear them, but there were still people around-  people swimming in the sparkling blue Pacific, a couple of guys throwing  a Frisbee back and forth, couples on towels farther away, occasional  joggers.

Dylan slipped off his shoes and rolled up his chinos before sitting at  the other end of the towel, leaving plenty of space between them. She  wasn't facing him, which was supposed to be safe, yet her attention  seemed to be located on his bare ankles, which she could see out of the  corner of her eye. Why had she never noticed how attractive men's ankles  were before? Or was it something special about this man's?

She swallowed hard and brought her focus back to her career. These dates were for her career.

"Mr. Hawke, you-"

"Dylan," he said, interrupting her. "'Dylan' is fine when we're alone."

"Are you sure?" A light breeze toyed with the hair that had escaped her  clip, so she tucked it behind her ear. "If we become personal, won't we  risk...?" She didn't know how to end that sentence, so she left it  hanging.

He pulled his legs up and rested his forearms on his bent knees. "I  hardly think using my first name will lead to me leaping on top of you  here on the towel. Besides, 'Mr. Hawke' is too formal for the beach."

As soon as he'd said the words me leaping on top of you, she had  trouble drawing breath. For a long moment, she couldn't get past the  image of him above her, feeling his weight pushing her into the sand.  She bit down on her bottom lip, hard. It seemed that he was right-using  his first name wasn't the problem since she hadn't said it yet.

"Okay. Dylan." She gathered a handful of towel and the sand beneath it  and gripped tight, as if she could draw strength from the beach itself.  "You mentioned that the catalog didn't have anything like the designs  you saw me do when you were at the store."

"That's true," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "We don't have anything like them."

She twisted around a little so she could see his eyes, but more  importantly, so he could see hers and know she was serious about this.  "Will you give me another chance to submit a design? One that's  more...me?"                       
       
           



       

A slow smile spread across his face, and he nodded once. "I was hoping  you'd still want to submit. Hawke's Blooms needs at least one Faith  Crawford design between the covers of its catalog."

"Thank you," she said, excitement building inside. She'd been pretty  sure he'd be open to looking at another arrangement, but even so, she  hadn't wanted to count her chickens before they hatched. This time she'd  blow his socks off.

"But," he said, "explain this to me, because I still don't understand.  You're ambitious enough to use your savings to get access to me, yet you  don't want a promotion." His expression was curious. It didn't feel as  if the man who'd offered her the promotion was asking this time-it was  more like a friend asking.

She looked out over the blue Pacific Ocean, the sound of the waves  crashing on the shore lulling her into feeling at ease. "I like working  with flowers. Flowers make people happy. They make me happy."

"So, what do you want out of your career, Faith?" His voice was soft  near her ear, but she didn't turn, just watched the rhythmic pounding of  the waves.

"I want to keep growing as a florist, to move on to new experiences and  places, to be doing bigger and better arrangements all the time." She  risked a glance at him, wondering if she dared tell him the size of her  dreams. She'd never told a soul-had always been scared people would  laugh at her.

"There's more, isn't there?" he asked, his gaze encouraging.

There was something about him looking at her like that. He could ask  her anything and she'd probably tell him. She nodded. "One day, my  arrangements will grace important places, large-scale events-they'll  reach hundreds, maybe hundreds of thousands of people and bring them  happiness."

One side of his mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. She looked back at  the waves crashing on the shore and the children building sand castles.  "You probably think that's silly."

From her peripheral vision she saw him reach out as if to run a hand  down her arm, but he let it drop a moment before he touched her. She  felt his gaze, however, remain trained on her. "I think it's amazing."

"You're not teasing?" she asked, turning to him, hardly daring to breathe. She wanted so badly for him to be telling the truth.

"I've heard a lot of reasons that people have chosen floristry before,  and most of them were really good. But I think yours is my favorite."  His voice was soft, intimate. Despite sharing the beach with countless  other people, it was as if they were completely alone on the towel. From  a distance, they might look like any couple together for an afternoon,  and the idea was exhilarating.

"Thank you," she whispered.

There was silence for a long moment when all she could hear was her own  breath. Then Dylan rubbed a hand down his face and sat a little  straighter. "So is there a destination for your life's plan? Somewhere  in particular you're headed?"

She picked up a handful of sand and let it fall through her fingers.  "Not really." In fact, the idea of reaching a destination made her  uneasy. "I guess I'm more comfortable staying on the move."

"Hmm... There's more to that answer, isn't there?"

She looked up, startled that he'd seen through her. Again. Then she  nodded. "I've moved so much in my life, changing everything each time,  that I've become something of a rolling stone."

"That makes me wonder, Faith Sixty-Three." He raised an eyebrow. "Are  you moving all the time because you want to, or are you worried that if  you stop, you'll sink?"

She laughed softly. "That's ridiculous. I move because I want to. I like my life this way."

But was that true? Something inside her tensed at the thought. Perhaps  she was more comfortable choosing to move on, being a step ahead of  anyone who might make her leave. That little girl who was always waiting  for the axe to fall was still inside her. A cold shiver ran down her  spine. Honestly, she was only comfortable if she decided to move on her  own terms-jumping before she was pushed. If she jumped, she was in  control of the situation, so since she'd become an adult, she'd been  jumping from place to place. So far she'd avoided being pushed away.

Not that she'd ever admit that to Dylan Hawke-she'd pretty much reached  her limit on sharing. Yet this was still the most open she'd been with  anyone, and it didn't scare her the way it usually did. Why was that,  exactly?                       
       
           



       

She took in his strong profile, his dark hair that was moving in the  gentle breeze, the day-old stubble that covered his jaw. She felt safe  with him.

"You know," she said, feeling this was something that he should know.  "I haven't told anyone this before. About being a rolling stone."

His green eyes softened. "Thank you for sharing it with me." His  forehead crumpled into lines and he swallowed. "And it seems only fair  that I repay your honesty in kind."

"Yes?" she said and held her breath.

"The night we met, you asked if I'd ever had a dream of my own." His  voice was stilted, as if he hadn't put these thoughts into words before.  "I didn't answer you, but the truth is, no. The only dreams I can  remember having are the dreams I have in common with my family for our  business." His gaze was piercing, looking deep within her. "Are you  shocked?"

She swallowed hard to get her voice to work. "I'm honored you shared that with me."

"And if we're being completely honest," he said, his chest rising and  falling faster than it had only minutes ago, "I have to tell you that  I've never wanted to kiss a woman more than I do in this moment. But I  can't let myself."

She squeezed her eyes shut against the truth, but he deserved to know  he wasn't alone. Deliberately she opened her eyes again and met his  gaze. "I've never wanted to kiss a man this much, either. Ever since the  moment our lips first touched, I've been thinking about doing it  again."

He groaned and let his head fall into his hands. "I'm not sure if I  prefer knowing that, or if it was easier not thinking you felt the  same."