Which meant there was very little to keep her from acting on desires she’d tried so hard to suppress.
“These aren’t on the list, but they are rather nice,” Darian said, reaching out to run his finger over the delicate petal of a purple flower.
She watched him move, imagining those fingers brushing along her skin with equal care. Darian wasn’t a relationship sort of man, but she’d known that going in. There were no illusions about what could or couldn’t happen with him. And really, fun, casual sex might be just what she needed.
Gillian was right. She was in a rut, and sleeping with her sexy boss seemed like one hell of a way to get out of it. After all, he’d appeared in more than a few naughty dreams over the years, though she’d deny it to her grave.
Unfortunately, Darian seemed immune to the wedding cheer and romance that had surrounded them for the last week. If there really had been a moment in the gazebo, it might just have been a fluke. One he was trying to put behind them.
Which left her with a decision. Accept that some fantasies were best kept behind locked doors and out of sight.
Or do something about it.
The thought sent butterflies rioting through her stomach. Hell, maybe if she made a move and he turned her down, it’d be easier to get her dismissal. He might want rid of her as fast as possible.
The thought wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.
“These are pretty,” she said, moving on to the next stall.
He leaned over her shoulder to see what she’d selected. “Too yellow,” he replied.
“They’d brighten up the reception hall,” she argued, looking over her shoulder.
Only to find his mouth a breath from hers.
Darian straightened so fast one would think she’d electrocuted him.
“Not yellow,” was all he said as he walked away toward another seller.
Allison watched him move away from her, the butterflies dying in her stomach. Her fantasies had all been premised on the idea that Darian would sleep with anyone so long as they made no relationship demands of him. But what if that rule didn’t include her? Yes, she’d be leaving soon, but until she did, she’d have to suffer the soul-crushing humiliation of knowing he’d fall into bed with anyone but her.
Bars were full of strangers hoping for one night stands. If she needed a man in her bed that badly she’d be better of propositioning one of them. She could get out of her rut and wouldn’t put either of them in an embarrassing situation. A far safer option, even if it cast a cloud over her flower filled morning.
Be his perfect assistant, she admonished herself. Keep any desires you’d be embarrassed to explain to a child to yourself.
“So far I’m not seeing anything on your list,” he told her when she caught up to him. “We might be out of luck.”
“We’re only halfway through. I’m sure someone will have something we can use.”
“Ever the optimist.”
A wry smile twisted her lips. On the contrary, she was usually the one pulling his ideas back down to earth. Darian was the shining golden boy who could make money out of nothing. She was the practical shadow that figured out ways to carry out the more boring steps of his vision.
“I suppose we could come back next Saturday, though I know it’d be asking a lot,” he said.
“Does that mean I’d get another dinner out of the deal?”
His eyes flashed to hers before he glanced away. “Sure.”
She paused as he moved farther down the stalls. Dinner was on, then? He hadn’t breathed a word of it since their car ride to Sahra. She’d half expected him to forget, but then again, not much slipped Darian’s mind unless it was deliberately forgotten.
“Ali.”
Her head swung up, orienting toward her name. Darian waved at her, his arm stretched high over the heads of their fellow flower shoppers.
Threading her way through the crowd, she quickly crossed the distance to him.
“What have you found?” she asked.
“Dahlias.”
White and blush colored flowers filled the small stall. Perfect for a bouquet.
“I like them,” she said.
Darian picked one up and twirled it around in his fingers. “It’s actually a decent stand in.”
“Do you think Jenny would mind?”
He leaned closer, inspecting the fragile blooms. “I think she’d love them. And considering what we’ve seen so far, these might be the best bet we’ve come across.”
“You’re sure?”
He glanced down the few stalls left before the end of the market and nodded. “I am.”
Eying the blossoms, she tried to picture them at Sahra. They could weave them into the table centerpieces, and they were sturdy enough they could be used in other decorations as well. And the flowers came in multiple colors to match whatever theme Jenny had in mind.