a story there.”
“My life is never dull.” She reached into the fridge and drew out the assorted foliage she’d put to the side earlier. “I found some fresh mint at the markets this morning, as well as these cute little branches of crab apples. How does that sound?”
“Like a winner. Emmie loved the daisy and rosemary bouquet last week.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan watching the conversation and then moving to her elbow. He put his hand out to Tom. “Hi, I’m Dylan Hawke, CEO of the Hawke’s Blooms retail chain.”
“Wow, the big boss,” Tom said, winking at Faith.
Dylan turned to her. “You bought crab apples and mint yourself for this bouquet?” His tone was mild, but his focus had narrowed in on her like a laser pointer. “This sounds interesting. Can you talk me through the thinking behind your plan?”
Her stomach clenched tight. She’d wanted the attention of the businessman side of him, and now she had it, which was great. But if he thought what she was doing was too bizarre, then she might have lost her chance to win his approval. A second strike against her in a row might be too much to overcome.
All she could do was paste on a smile and do her job.
“Tom comes in each Monday to pick up some flowers for his wife,” she said, her gaze on the work her hands were doing. “Emmie is blind, so I always put some thought into combinations that she can enjoy.”
“You picked up the mint on your way in?” Dylan asked, his tone not giving anything away.
She nodded. “Monday mornings I leave home a bit earlier and drop in at the flower markets, looking for some inspiration. We usually go outside the standard range of flowers that the store stocks to get the right elements for Emmie’s bouquet. I like something fragrant—” she picked up the mint “—and something tactile—” she pointed to the crab apple branch “—along with the usual assortment of flowers.”
She cast a glance at the buckets bursting with bright blooms around them, looking for inspiration. Something white, perhaps?
Dylan raised an eyebrow and she hesitated. Maybe he didn’t like florists going this far off the beaten track? Her manager hadn’t been particularly supportive and always complained if she tried to get reimbursement for the extras from petty cash, but Faith loved the challenge of something new each week, and the fact that Tom wanted to do this for his wife always melted her heart. Were there other men like Tom in the world? Men who were so dedicated to bringing a smile to the faces of the women they loved that they’d go the extra mile every single week? That sort of constancy was a beautiful thing to be a part of.
Perhaps Dylan Hawke didn’t see the situation the same way. She held a sprig of mint out to him. “If that’s okay, Mr. Hawke?”
“More than okay,” he said, taking the mint and lifting it to his nose. “I think it’s a great example of customer service.”
Dylan’s approving gaze rested on her, and her shoulders relaxed as relief flowed through her veins. But she was also aware that his approval was having more of an effect than it should...
As she worked, he blended into the background, but she felt his eyes on her the entire time she was making the crab apple, mint and white carnation arrangement. After Tom left, pleased with the results, Dylan cornered her near the cash register.
“Please tell me you get reimbursed for those extras you purchase on Monday mornings,” he said, his voice low.
She maintained a poker face. Getting her manager into trouble was a quick route to reduced hours, but she couldn’t lie, either. He could check the store’s accounting books and find that she hadn’t asked for reimbursement after the first few times, not since Mary had finally put her foot down and said she should use stock that was already in the store. And being caught in a lie by the CEO would be even less healthy for her career than not covering for her immediate manager.
“Sure, but sometimes I forget to hand the receipts in,” she said in what she hoped was a casual, believable tone.
“I see,” he said, and she had a feeling he really did see.
“I don’t mind paying for those extras,” she said quickly. “I know I should only use what we have in stock, but I get such a kick out of Tom’s expression when he knows he’s taking home something Emmie will love. It’s like a present I can give them.”
“It’s your job, Faith. You shouldn’t have to pay money to do your job.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you have the receipt from this morning?”
She picked up her handbag from under the counter and dug around until she found the crumpled bit of paper. “Here,” she said, passing it to him.
Their hands brushed, and she couldn’t help the slight gasp that escaped at the contact. Tingles radiated from the place they’d touched, and she yearned to reach out and touch him again. On his hand, or his forearm. Or—she looked up to his face—the cheek she’d stroked with her fingertips when they’d kissed. His eyes darkened.
“Faith,” he said, his voice a rasp, “we can’t.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“Then don’t—”
“Anything I can help you with, Mr. Hawke?” Mary asked from behind them.
Without missing a beat, Dylan turned, his charming smile firmly in place, where only seconds before she’d seen something real, something raw.
“I was just chastising your florist about not submitting her receipts for the extras she’s been buying for that customer’s weekly order.” He handed over the receipt. “Ms. Crawford has promised she’ll turn them in to you from now on, haven’t you, Ms. Crawford?”
“Ah, yes,” Faith said, not meeting her manager’s eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another order to make up.”
She slipped away and left them to their discussion, finally able to take a full breath again only when she was immersed in her next arrangement. This day couldn’t end soon enough. He was too close here. In her space. Making her want him.
Yet even if he weren’t the owner of the company, the last man she could give her heart to was a man whose love life had no stability. She’d heard the rumors about Dylan, that he changed female companions regularly, never seeming to form attachments. She couldn’t fall for someone like that—she wouldn’t do it to herself. She’d spend the entire time waiting for the moment he’d move on. Better to stay independent and create stability by relying on herself.
She repeated the words to herself over and over while she worked, the whole time trying to ignore her body’s awareness of where he was in the room. And resisting the urge to walk over and touch him again.
By late afternoon, Dylan was back in his office, staring out the window at the LA skyline. He had achieved what he’d set out to that morning—a detailed understanding of how the Santa Monica store was operating. He’d managed to sit down with all four employees during the day and chat about their perceptions and ideas, and had seen for himself that the customers were pleased with the floral arrangements being produced.
He’d also discovered one other thing—this fledgling attraction for Faith Crawford wasn’t going to fade away. From the moment he arrived, he’d fought to stop his gaze traveling to her. Wherever she was in the store, he could feel her. And occasionally he’d caught her watching him with more than an employee’s interest. His heart picked up speed now just thinking about it.
He’d cursed the Fates that he’d had to meet her while she worked for him.
He’d also noticed she was far from an average employee. He’d been taking orders over the phone and in person all day from people who wanted