strode to the food court and ordered a roast beef sandwich, then took it back into his office to work through lunch.
But all through his meal, he was angry with himself for his body’s intense reaction to Crystal’s sexiness in the first place.
She was just exactly the wrong type for him.
BY THE TIME Crystal turned out the store lights for the night and twisted the key in the lock, she was excited. She had crammed her day with learning something new every hour, and it had paid off. Her creative juices were flowing like Niagara Falls.
Her aunt’s business was good, with repeat customers making up at least sixty percent of the business. Her small knickknacks and floral decorations were beautiful, if a bit bland.
But Crystal would love to buy a few different, oddball items, mix them in with the bland stuff and dress up the store with unusual, one-of-a-kind decorator touches. Do some different stuff, as her friend, Ouida Vestal, used to say.
Still thinking of things she’d like to do, she drove to her aunt’s home. It was on the side of a hill with the desert stark and beautiful in one direction, and the beginning of a wide canyon filled with trees at the back door. Her aunt and uncle had been lucky enough to find a piece of property that had the best of both worlds and had made the most of it. Her aunt owned enough of the land to block out someone’s building and ruining her view.
When Crystal walked into the house, she took a deep breath. The chill outside air counterpointed the scents wafting from the kitchen. Pot roast, fresh bread and some kind of pie.
“I’m home!” she called, taking off her sweater and hanging it in the hallway. “And you’re supposed to be resting!”
“I’m glad you’re home and I am resting!” her aunt called back.
Crystal walked into the large den area and found her mother’s twin sitting in a deep-yellow upholstered chair with her feet on the matching ottoman. Her arm was in a cast and swathed in a beautiful silk scarf instead of the usual, hospital-issued, cotton sling. It was coordinated with her matching maroon silk pajamas. She was watching the fireplace and listening to the television.
“How was the shop?” she asked, lifting her head for her niece’s kiss. Her hennaed hair was cut short in the back but long on top, with soft curls going in every direction. Aunt Helen was a good-looking woman. Her eyes were much like Crystal’s, a rich deep brown, but radiated the wisdom and maturity of her fifty years.
“It was the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on.” Crystal got a slap on the bottom for that wild remark.
Instead of commenting on the hit, she took the matching chair, propped up her feet and leaned back, loving the luxury of doing nothing. “It’s a great little store. I brought the receipts home with me so you can show me what to deposit and how to call in the charges, then enter them into Hugo, over there.” She aimed her chin toward the computer hidden in the armoire section of the wall unit. “Were you so afraid of my cooking you had to put yourself through hours in the kitchen?”
“Not at all,” Aunt Helen said calmly. “Michael brought over a pie, Kenneth and his daughter made a pot roast with potatoes and carrots, and Mab, next door, just made homemade rolls.” She grinned. “So we have dinner compliments of my friends.”
“How nice. Better still, what nice friends.” Crystal meant it. Her aunt seemed to draw people to her like moths to a flame. It was no wonder, she had warmth and a sense of fun that was contagious.
“I’m lucky, and in more than one way, darling. Most of the men my age are looking for a wife, and they’re ready to do whatever it takes to have one so they’re not alone.”
“And you’re willing to help them in this?”
“Not at all. I don’t have time,” her aunt replied calmly.
“No? Come on,” Crystal said, disbelieving.
Her aunt sighed dramatically. “So many men, so little time.”
“I can’t believe you really said that.”
Aunt Helen chuckled. “Don’t worry. It’s not true. I’m a widow and at an age when most single men are getting panicked because they don’t have someone to take care of them in their old age. They’re beating the bushes at the same time they’re showing eligible women how self-sufficient they are.”
“And are you?” Crystal said, finally stirring enough to realize her aunt probably needed a little something to drink. “Eligible, I mean.”
“Never. Not on a bet.” The older woman laughed. “I’m not about to ruin a good thing by allowing someone to think of me as a wife instead of a marvelous, seductive woman to be sought and captured…almost.”
Crystal stretched and sat up. It had been a long day. “Can I get you a glass of ice water?”
“No, thank you. I already drank enough to make a camel jealous.” She watched her niece walk into the kitchen. “Check the pot roast would you?”
Crystal did, then came out with two glasses of white Chablis. “Dinner will be ready whenever you are, Aunt Helen.” She handed her aunt one of the glasses.
“So, tell me about your day,” Helen asked eagerly as she took a sip of the cooled wine. “Did you meet Blake yet?”
“I certainly did. He’s as handsome as you said he was, but with very little humor and even less of an easy manner. In fact, he was the most uptight man I’ve ever met.”
“Blake?” Her aunt sounded confused.
That obviously wasn’t strong enough to make an impression on her aunt. Crystal decided she had to emphasize the fact that she felt cheated by his attitude. “Even the millionaires I work with aren’t that uptight.”
Helen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Blake?” she repeated.
“Blake,” Crystal reaffirmed. “I spent half an hour with him this morning, then we walked around the mall a little.”
“Walked around the mall?” Now Aunt Helen sounded downright disbelieving.
Crystal nodded then continued. “In all that time, he smiled twice—well maybe three times. But that was it. The rest of the time he looked at me as if I were a two-day-old fish.”
“I’m so surprised,” Helen stated. “He’s always been so warm and fun with me. Although we’ve never walked around the mall, we’ve been friends ever since we first met.”
“Maybe he’s interested in you,” Crystal suggested. The words didn’t taste any better on her tongue than the thought had.
“If he was,” Helen stated, “it’s the best kept secret in the mall. Even I don’t know about it. But then, there’s too much of an age difference between us.”
“Men and women have had eighteen-year age differences before, and overcame it.”
“Yes, but not women and men. This is a different difference, and I’m not willing to have a relationship with someone that young any more than I’m willing to have one with someone that much older than I am.”
Crystal giggled.
“Now stop ignoring the topic of conversation and tell me what else happened with Blake.”
“Not much.” Crystal gave a shrug and glanced out the back window at the sharp edge of forest. “All he did was give me disapproving looks and tell me what he thought was wrong with my way of thinking.”
“Now, I wonder why I don’t believe that.” Her aunt didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, she rearranged her scarf. “You spent a long time with the man. Longer than anyone else he doesn’t know.”
“Really?” she asked, trying to ignore the flash of delight her aunt’s words delivered. “I didn’t notice. It’s probably because