"I'm coming back at seven. I'll bring food. Unless you call me and say otherwise. Seven, here."
"Okay. All right. I'll check my book when I regain the power of cogent thought. But-"
"Seven," he repeated and kissed her again. "If we need to talk, we'll talk."
"It may have to be in short, declarative sentences and words of one or two syllables."
"We can do that." His grin shot fresh heat straight to her belly. "Do you need anything out of here?"
"Yes, but I can't remember what. Give me a second." She pushed her hands through her hair, closed her eyes. "All right, yeah. Those, those. Then you've really got to go away. I can't work if I'm thinking about you, this. Sex. Any of it."
"Tell me about it. Seven," he repeated, and helped her carry out the flowers.
"I'll, uh, get back to you on that," she told him when he set the flowers in her work area. "When I'm not so . . . busy."
"Great." The warm gray eyes lingered on her just a moment longer. "See you, Tink."
"You bet." Tink clipped another few stems while Jack left, then slid them into their holding tub. "So, when did you and Jack start doing it?"
"Doing what? Oh. Tink." Shaking her head, Emma turned to her shelves to select the proper container for the fireplace arrangement she had planned. "We're not."
"If you tell me he didn't plant a big yummy one on you back there, I'm going to call you a liar."
"I don't understand why you . . ." Stupid, Emma told herself, then reached for her flower foam. "How do you know?"
"Because your eyes were still glazed when you came back, and he looked like a guy who'd only gotten a few nibbles when he's ready for a great big bite."
"Bite. Ha-ha."
"Why aren't you doing it? He's prime."
"I'm-we're . . . You know, sex doesn't fluster me. I mean talking about sex, because if actually having sex doesn't fluster you at least a little, you're missing something. But this flusters me."
As she continued to work, Tink nodded sagely. "Moving from friends to friends with benefits has the advantage of knowing who the hell you're getting naked with."
"There's that. But it could be awkward, right? After."
"Only if one of you's an asshole about it." She gave her gum another cheerful snap. "So, my advice-don't be an asshole."
"On some odd level that's actually wise." Emma set the foam to soak. "I need to check something in my appointment book."
"Okay. I'd schedule that nookie in for tonight," Tink called after her. "You'll be the happy flower lady tomorrow."
And there's another point, Emma thought.
She saw by her book she'd left the evening open. She'd marked the date with a large X after five o'clock, her way of warning herself not to get talked into going out. Too much work lined up for a date.
But this wasn't actually a date, she decided. He'd come by, bring food, and then . . . they'd see. She didn't have to change or think about what she should wear or . . .
Who was she kidding? Of course she'd worry about what to wear. There was no way whatever was going to happen with Jack was going to happen while she was wearing her work clothes and her nails were green from stems and foliage.
Plus, she'd need fresh flowers and candles in the bedroom. And she'd be more relaxed if she could take a nice bubble bath. Choosing an outfit was a vital element in an evening like this, not just what went on top, but what was under it.
She closed the book.
When she thought it all through, a not-actual date required more work than an actual one.
She hurried back to her flowers. She had to finish her workday, give the client her best. Then she needed plenty of time before seven to make everything perfect, without making it obvious she'd gone to any trouble at all.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE SETTLED ON A DRESS IN A BREEZY PRINT. CASUAL, EMMA determined, simple and almost sweet with the little cropped sweater she paired with it.
And what she wore under it was lethal.
Pleased with the results, she did a final turn in the mirror before giving the bedroom a close inspection. Candles for soft, romantic light, lilies and roses for romantic scents. The CD player set on low with a quiet, romantic mix ready to play.
Pillows plumped, shades drawn.
It was, she decided, a female den of seduction. She was damn proud of it.
Now all she needed was the man.
She walked downstairs to make sure everything was ready on that front. Wine, glasses, candles, flowers. Music again, still low but more upbeat than the mix waiting upstairs. She turned it on, adjusted the volume, then circled around lighting the candles.