She couldn’t stop looking at the lilies. She’d never seen anything like them. “This will create a sensation.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m hoping so.”
Unable to resist, she reached out and ran a fingertip over a thick, waxy petal. “What sort of launch are you planning for it?”
“I leave that to my brothers, but Dylan’s office usually has window signs made up for all the Hawke’s Blooms stores when we release a new flower, and Adam’s office will probably put out a press release. Gardening magazines and TV shows usually pick up on it, and occasionally we get lucky and the mainstream media mentions it.”
This flower deserved more than a poster and a press release. This flower deserved fanfare and fame. “Have you ever done anything more to promote your creations?”
“What more is there?” he asked, frowning.
Her mind kicked into gear, suddenly full of possibilities. “Maybe an event. Something to really make a splash. Something that would get you a lot of publicity and make the blue lily the most sought-after flower in the state.”
Liam handed Meg a rubber stress ball from his desk as he asked, “What are you thinking?”
If there was one thing Jenna knew about, it was events. She’d been attending large-scale occasions since she was a child. “It could be almost anything, like a media stunt, or maybe a snazzy release, like the way a bottle of champagne is smashed against the bow of a boat.” She’d christened her first ship when she was sixteen. It was more fun than cutting a ribbon, but there was always the danger of splashing her dress. “Perhaps something elegant. How about a ball?”
“For a flower?” he asked dubiously. “People would go to that?”
“Sure they would if you promise them a good time. Make it the party of the year.”
Meg reached up and grabbed a fistful of his dark, wavy hair, but Liam barely flinched. “What exactly constitutes a ‘party of the year’?”
She thought back over the successful events she’d attended. “Location, guest list, entertainment, food. Just the basics, but done really well.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing.”
“I’ve attended a few in the past. I had a boyfriend who was often invited to big parties and events.” Which was true. In her previous life, whichever guy she’d been seeing had been invited to the events she attended as her plus one.
Apparently accepting her explanation at face value, he sank into a chair in front of a messy desk and leaned back, Meg on his lap. “What else would you do?”
Good question. To start with, they’d need a theme. “Have you named the flower?”
“I was planning on calling it Midnight.”
“That’s perfect,” she said, feeling a little buzz of adrenalin. “You could make midnight the theme of the ball. The decorations would all be in midnight blue, and maybe the official launch would be at the stroke of midnight, perhaps someone cutting a ribbon, and every guest could be given a gift and a cut Midnight Lily. Naturally, you’d make sure there was press coverage, perhaps some influential bloggers, anyone who would talk it up beforehand and afterward.”
He made some notes on a jotter on his desk, then turned to her as Meg tried to grab his pen. “I’ll run it past Adam and Dylan, but I think it’s a great idea. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” She smiled. It had been a while since she’d used her brain in that way and it was fun. “I’m sure you’ll make it a success.”
He ran a hand over his chin, then tapped a finger against his jaw. “Would you consider overseeing the event? You have your hands full with Bonnie and Meg, but my admin staff can put all your plans into action. It would be more about being the ideas person and giving advice about the whole thing.”
Jenna chewed the inside of her cheek. The very last place she could be was a party covered by the media. If a single photo of her leaked back to her homeland, her whole plan would come crashing down around her and she’d have to return before she was ready.
“The thing is,” she began, thinking on her feet, “I hate being in front of people, talking to the media, that sort of thing. And crowds. So I’m not the best person to organize it.”
He shook his head, obviously not seeing her objection as an obstacle. “Adam or Dylan would do all the public speaking, and Dylan’s office, which oversees the Hawke’s Blooms stores, has a PR person. She can be the liaison with the media. And if you’re worried about the crowds, you wouldn’t even have to attend. You can be as behind the scenes as you want to be. It’s your ideas I want.”
A bubble of excitement filled her chest just thinking about it, and she held her breath for a beat as if that could contain it. She had heaps of accumulated knowledge about events, which was currently of no benefit to anyone. She could make use of her knowledge and help Liam and Dylan, who’d both given her a home and a job when she’d needed them.
Then again, her conscience protested, she’d never actually organized an event of this size on her own. She’d feel like a fraud. Her excitement deflated.
Reluctantly, she admitted the truth. “The best thing would be to hire an event organizer, someone with experience and training.”
“True, but I’ve never been known for traditional hiring practices. Just look at the process of hiring my brother’s housekeeper to be my nanny, and that’s working out just fine. Besides,” he said with a pointed look, “you’re the one who convinced me that we should do it differently this time, so it’s pretty much your responsibility to see that through.”
She laughed at his attempt at levity. “Okay, all right. I’ll give it a go, but I can’t promise that I’ll do it as well as a professional would.”
A spark of triumph flared in his eyes, and he grinned. “You just do it your way—that’s all I’ll be expecting. I’ll run it past Adam and Dylan and get a team together to meet with you.”
A few minutes later, Jenna pushed the stroller out of the building into the brilliant sunshine and the scents of the flower farm and wondered what she’d just gotten herself into.
“Girls,” she said, looking down at the two babies, “sometime soon I might need to learn to say no to Liam Hawke.”
* * *
When Liam arrived home that night it was almost eleven o’clock. The house was quiet, calm. He felt an ironic smile creep across his face. A few months ago, quiet and calm had been his house’s natural state. Then his daughter had arrived, bringing sunshine and happy chaos with her. Meg had only added to that.
Jenna, however, had interrupted his calm in a different way. In a wholly unexpected and unwelcome way. Even now, thinking about her, his pulse accelerated against his will.
He headed up the stairs and down the hall and noticed the light in Bonnie’s nursery was on. Bonnie must be having her bottle, which was good timing—he could stop in and help with that before falling into bed. But when he reached the room, it was empty of furniture and Jenna stood with her back to him as she painted the walls daffodil yellow. In a simple white T-shirt and cut-off denim shorts stretching nicely over her rounded bottom, she was the most alluring woman he could remember seeing. His mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed once, twice.
“Well, this is unexpected,” he said, leaning on the door frame.
She whirled to face him, eyes startled and face covered in splatters of bright yellow. A large spot sat lopsided on her nose, and drips decorated her white T-shirt.
“I thought you said it was okay for me to paint this room,” she said in a rush. “The dark browns—”
He held up a hand. “It’s fine. You’re right, I wanted the nursery redecorated—I just thought you’d get a contractor in to do it. Painting walls isn’t in your job description.”
She shoved some hair that had fallen from her ponytail away from her face, but it flopped back straight away. “I wanted to do it. I’ve never painted a room before.”
He couldn’t hold back the laugh—she was so earnest. “It’s hardly up there with life goals like climbing Mt. Everest or touring a medieval castle.”
“I suppose,” she said with a secret smile dancing around her mouth, “it depends on what a person has and hasn’t experienced before.”
“I suppose so.” He pushed off the doorframe and wandered around the room, scrutinizing her handiwork.
“It’s not too bad, is it?” Her hand fluttered as she tucked the stray strand of hair behind her ears. She seemed more uncertain than she had about anything since he’d met her.
The edges were crooked in places, but given it was her first time, it looked remarkably neat. “You’ve done a good job.”
She beamed at the simple praise as she pointed to the windowsill. “I know the edges need some work. I’ll go over them when I’ve finished here.”
“How about I change my clothes and give you a hand? I know some tricks that will make it easier.” He was sure he’d regret this later, but in that moment, seeing her glowing from within, he couldn’t walk away.
“Oh, no,” she said emphatically. “I couldn’t ask you to do that after a long day at work. I’ll be fine.”