Bidding on Her Boss(15)

"There's something about the way that man moves," Faith's new friend said. "You can tell he'd be a great lover."

Faith's heart skipped a beat. Just at that moment, Dylan glanced their  way. He must have seen her looking a little flustered because he  mouthed, "You okay?"

Amanda's words replayed in Faith's head, and she imagined lying naked  with Dylan Hawke. Touching him without reserve. Being touched. Her mouth  dried. Dylan frowned, taking a step toward her, and she realized she  hadn't replied to him yet.

Summoning all her willpower, she found a smile and nodded, and he went  back to overseeing the shoot. Amanda was called away and Faith tried to  focus on something, anything that wasn't Dylan. Luckily, several people  stopped to comment on her arrangements, so that gave her a ready-made  distraction.

By the time the photographer said she had enough shots and called a  halt, Faith had successfully avoided looking at Dylan since he'd asked  her if she was okay. So when he appeared in front of her, tall, dark and  smiling, she lost her breath.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

She blinked. "Yeah. You sure you don't mind dropping me home? I can catch a cab."

"Actually, I was thinking we should do something to celebrate the success of your designs first."

"Like what?" she practically stammered. Celebration and Dylan were two words that could be dangerous when paired together.

He ran a hand over his jaw. "A fine champagne should do it."

She looked around. "Here?" Maybe it wouldn't be so dangerous if the others were involved as well.

"I need to drop these flowers off at my place so the delivery van can  be picked up-the iris is still under wraps, so I can't let them go  anywhere else. But there's a bar downstairs in my building. How about we  drive over, I'll race the arrangements upstairs and then we can have a  bottle of their best champagne in the bar before I drop you home?"

The plan sounded harmless-he hadn't suggested she go up to his  apartment with him, so they'd be surrounded by people the whole time.  They couldn't get carried away the way they had at the store on their  first meeting. And truth was, she was too buzzed about the day's events  to go home just yet. This would be the perfect way to end the day: a  small celebration with the person who understood how much making those  arrangements and having them photographed for the publicity posters  meant to her.

"I'd love to," she said.

They set the flowers back in the boxes and carried them out to the  delivery van, said their farewells and set off for Dylan's building.  Once they got there and parked, he went around to the back of the van  and opened the doors.

"How about you grab us a table while I take these up," he said as he drew out the boxes. "I'll only be a couple of minutes."

"Sure," she said. Part of her wanted to go with him and see his  apartment, and the other part knew how dangerous that would be. Best to  stay to public areas.

It was still fairly early, and the bar mainly had the after-work crowd,  not the evening revelers yet, so she didn't have any trouble finding a  booth. She was perusing the cocktail list on the wall behind her when  she heard the sound of fabric moving over vinyl. Dylan slid onto the  bench seat across from her. His sculpted cheekbones and sparkling green  eyes seemed to make the whole world brighter.

"Would you prefer a cocktail?" he asked.

It wouldn't be very smart to drink stronger alcohol when she was alone  with this man. "No, I think you're right. Champagne is perfect to  celebrate."                       
       
           



       

"Good, because I just ordered a bottle." His grin just about had her  melting on the spot. And over the course of a couple of glasses of  champagne each, the effect of Dylan Hawke on her system only  intensified.

His cell beeped and he fished it from his pocket. "That was quick," he  said as he thumbed some buttons. "The photographer has sent some  preliminary shots over."

Her pulse jumped. "Can I see?"

He turned the cell screen to her, but the images were small, so she  couldn't see much detail on how the individual iris looked at the center  of the shot. "I can't tell much," she said.

He turned the cell back to himself and rotated it as he swiped the  screen, flicking through the photos. "We could run up to my apartment  and look at them on my computer screen."

He'd made the suggestion almost absent-mindedly, not lifting his gaze  from the photos on his phone, and she wondered if he realized the  enormity of the possible consequences of his offer.

"Is that wise?" she asked and laced her hands together in her lap. "We agreed it was best to stick to public places."

He stilled. Then his gaze slowly lifted to meet hers. She was right-he  hadn't thought it through. He blew out a breath and shrugged. "It'll be  fine. It would only be a few minutes, and we'll be focused on the  flowers. Then I'll bring you straight back down and drop you home."

She chewed on her bottom lip. She really did want to see those photos,  and since the flower was a secret, she wouldn't ask him to forward them  to her own email address, so this was the only chance she'd have to get a  sneak peek before the posters were produced. Surely she could control  her reaction to this man for a few minutes. In fact, when she thought of  it that way, her caution seemed crazy-she wasn't ruled by her lusts. Of  course she could keep her hands to herself.

Decision made, she nodded. "I'd appreciate that."

She followed him out of the bar, then down a short corridor to a bank  of elevators. One was waiting and he ushered her inside, then punched in  a code before hitting the P button, which she assumed stood for  penthouse.

They were silent as they stood side by side in the small space, both  watching the doors. Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all. Even  these first few moments of being alone were filled with tension. A  feeling of leashed anticipation.

She opened her mouth to suggest they skip this and he drop her home  when the doors whooshed open. He held out a hand to let her precede him  into another hallway, and she hesitated.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Her mouth was suddenly dry, so she swallowed before speaking. "I guess I'm having second thoughts."

"You know," he said, reaching out to hold the lift doors, "we've been  alone quite a bit of time, if you think about it. In the car, the  delivery van, the room where you've been working at Liam's. And not once  in those times did I lose control and leap on you."

But each of those times there had been the threat of someone entering  the room or people in other cars looking through the windows. This time  they'd be utterly alone. She moistened her lips.

"If it helps," he said, one corner of his mouth turning up, "I swear to keep my hands to myself."

She believed him. In the time she'd known him, he'd proved to be a man  of his word. So she nodded, but as he unlocked his door, she admitted to  herself that it wasn't his control she was worried about...

* * *

Dylan pushed open his door and hoped like hell he could keep the promise he'd just made.

"Do you want anything? A drink? Water?"

She shook her head. He closed the door behind her, then led the way  through his living room to a study off to the side. As he booted up the  computer, he pulled a second chair over to the desk, but Faith was still  in the doorway, standing at an angle, looking out into his living room.  He moved to her side, curious to see what she was looking at. Following  her line of vision, his gaze landed on the flower arrangements she'd  made only hours before.

"You did a really good job," he said, his voice low. "They're beautiful."

She didn't move. "Mainly due to Liam's work creating the Ruby Iris."

"No, mainly due to you. You forget what line of work I'm in." With a  gentle finger, he turned her chin to him so he could see her eyes. So  she could see his and know he meant this. "I've seen beautiful flowers  rendered awkward by a bad arrangement. You, however, have enhanced the  Ruby Iris's beauty."                       
       
           



       

Her eyes darkened. He realized she was close enough that he could lean  in and kiss her again. Hell, how he wanted to. But he'd made her a  promise to keep his hands to himself. So he dropped his hand and stepped  back.

He cleared his throat to get his voice to work again. "Speaking of your skill, let's have a look at those photos."

He held a chair out for her, then sat in his and opened the email.

There was a tiny gasp from beside him, and he turned to watch her reaction. "What do you think?" he asked.