not enough. It was selfish of me to kiss you when you wanted me here for a completely different purpose. I give you my word it won’t happen again.”
“I appreciate that,” she said, trying to conjure a professional facade.
He was silent for a couple of beats, his gaze assessing. “You seem quite certain, considering you just said you’d wanted me to kiss you only a few minutes ago.”
She wasn’t sure where he was coming from—it didn’t look like flirting, but she couldn’t read him well enough to know. Maybe he was testing her, wanting to ensure she wasn’t going to change her mind and make waves in the company. Whatever it was about, she had to be absolutely clear so he understood her position.
She drew in a breath and lifted her chin. “Boyfriends and lovers aren’t hard to come by, Mr. Hawke. What I need more than a man is someone to appreciate my talent. I hope this isn’t offensive, but I want you professionally more than personally.”
He flashed her a self-deprecating smile. “Understood. Which means I’d better have a look at this arrangement.”
She stood back to give him some room. Everything she’d done recently, from making the plan to attending the auction to spending most of her savings to meeting Dylan here tonight, had led to this moment. It was the do-or-die moment, and all she could do was step back, cross her fingers and hope he’d still give an honest assessment after he’d kissed her.
Dylan dug his hands in his pockets as he faced her arrangement. He moved around, looking at it from several angles before straightening with a grimace.
“That bad?” she asked, her stomach in free fall. “You’re grimacing.”
“No, it’s not bad.” He leaned back against the bench and crossed his arms over his chest. “If I’m not smiling it’s because I really wanted to put your arrangement in the catalog.”
She felt the words like a slap. Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them form. “But you’re not going to.”
“I’m sorry, Faith,” he said, his voice gentle. “Especially after...” He gestured toward the other end of the bench, where they’d been when he’d kissed her.
She bit down on her lip. She might feel bad, but she didn’t want him to feel bad as well. He was only doing his job. “Don’t apologize. If it’s not good enough, that’s my problem, not yours.”
“The thing is, it’s good, really good, but it looks a lot like the arrangements that are already in the book. If we add something new, then it needs to be unique. It has to offer our customers a genuine alternative to the options already there, and this arrangement, though beautiful, is—”
“Too much like what they can already choose,” she finished for him, understanding his point, but still deflated.
He moved closer and laid a hand on her shoulder, his eyes kind. “But I’ll reimburse the money you paid at the auction. You shouldn’t have to pay to have an appointment with someone at the head office.”
Her back stiffened. He wasn’t going to wriggle out of this that easily. “I won’t take the money back. I have two more dates left and I plan to use them.”
There was no way she was giving up this direct line to the head of the Hawke’s Blooms stores. It had been a good plan when she’d made it, and it was still a good plan...as long as she hadn’t blown her chances by kissing him.
Sure, tonight hadn’t been the raging success she’d hoped for, but there were two more dates yet. When she set her mind to something, she didn’t give up until she’d achieved it. She’d impress him yet and get one of her arrangements in the catalog.
He dropped his hand and sighed. “The thing is, Faith, I can’t force you to take the money back, but it would be easier for me if you did.”
“Perhaps,” she said and smiled sweetly. “But it wouldn’t be easier for me.”
“Look, can I be honest?”
He thrust the fingers of both hands through his hair and left them there, linking them behind his head. This wasn’t the same man who’d kissed her moments before, or the man who ran an entire chain of retail stores, or even the man who’d confidently strutted the stage at the auction. This one seemed more real.
She nodded. “Please.”
“I’m in the process of trying to rehabilitate my image.” He gave her half a smile, and she tried not to laugh at how adorable he looked now.
“From playboy to the future brother-in-law of a princess?”
He shifted his weight to his other leg. “Yeah, something like that.”
“So to stop people seeing you as a playboy, you auctioned yourself off to the highest bidder?” She jumped up to sit on the bench, enjoying his discomfort more than she would have expected, but also enjoying seeing this private side of him.
He coughed out a laugh. “Yeah, when you put it like that, it sounds crazy.”
Suddenly she was more than intrigued. This man was a mass of contradictions and she wanted to know more. To understand him. “Then how would you put it?”
“I’m throwing myself into our new charity. The auction was only the first step, but I’ll be involved every step of the way.”
“A respectable, upstanding member of the community.” She could see him pulling it off, too. Going from a playboy to a pillar of the community.
“So you can see that the very last thing I need is a scandal involving a staff member, especially given that we have a policy about management being involved with staff.”
A scandal? She frowned. What, exactly, did he think she wanted from those other two dates? “Dylan, I’m not expecting romance on the other dates any more than I expected it on this one.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “But image is everything.”
That was true. She cast her mind around for a solution. There was no way she was giving up her remaining dates without a fight. “What if no one knows? We could do them in secret.”
“That boat pretty much sailed when the auction was covered by the media,” he said and chuckled. Then he sobered and let out a long breath. “But it’s more than that.”
Understanding dawned. “Our kiss changed things.” She said the words softly, as if acknowledging the truth too loudly would make a difference.
He nodded, his gaze not wavering from her eyes. “And it’s very important that I see you only as an employee, and you see me only as a boss.”
“I won’t have any trouble with that. Are you saying you will?” She arched her eyebrow in challenge, guessing Dylan Hawke was a man who didn’t shrink from a challenge.
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “If you can do it, I can.”
“Then it looks like we don’t have a problem, do we?” Knowing he was trapped in the logic of it, she jumped down from the bench and grabbed the trash.
She felt him behind her, not moving, probably assessing his options. Then finally he took the trash can from her and began to sweep stem cuttings together with his free hand.
“It appears you’ve won this round, Faith Sixty-Three,” he said from beside her.
She flashed him a wry smile. “Dylan, if I’d won this round, my design would soon be featured in the catalog. All I’ve done is kept the door open for another round.”
“You know what?” he said, his voice amused. “Even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m already looking forward to the next round.”
She turned and caught his gaze, finding a potent mix of humor and heat there—something closer to the real man she’d glimpsed earlier. Quickly she turned away.