Читать книгу Winning Her Love - Harmony Evans - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThe bell on the door tinkled, and Vanessa’s head snapped up. No matter how she felt on a particular day, the merry sound always cheered her and made her smile. But when she saw who had entered her shop, her lips drooped into a frown.
In his entire term in office, Mayor Langston had never once set foot in her store. Why now? she wondered, her eyes narrowing.
He shut the door, looked about the room and wrinkled his nose.
Didn’t the man like flowers? she thought with dismay, watching him walk toward her.
She regarded him coolly while at the same time trying not to gawk. She had to admit that despite what she thought and felt about his politics, Gregory was as breathtaking as a drive down the Pacific coast.
His skin, burnished an even deeper brown from the California sun, held not a bit of shine. He wore a dark gray suit that looked as if it had leaped from the hanger right onto him. It was so clean and perfectly tailored. And though she knew he wasn’t much older than she was, he oozed the wisdom and class of powerful men twice her age.
Mrs. Barnell, the widowed owner of Bay Point Bed & Breakfast, was at the counter fussing over her daily floral arrangement. She always had a fresh bouquet in the foyer of her establishment, and even though Vanessa offered to deliver it right to her door, she insisted on picking it up herself. Vanessa suspected the woman was lonely.
“These California poppies are just gorgeous, don’t you think?”
Vanessa barely heard Mrs. Barnell’s question, so focused was she on Gregory, who was now standing a foot or so behind the elderly woman.
He swept the hat from his head, a careless gesture that also managed to seem purposeful at the same time. It made her knees feel brittle, even though she was standing perfectly straight, and she grasped the edge of the counter to maintain her balance.
“I agree. Utterly gorgeous.”
Vanessa parted her lips in shock. Instinctively, she knew that hidden in Gregory’s seemingly offhand response was something meant to be discovered by her alone, though she had no way of proving it. In the confines of the small room, his deep bass seemed like a hum, both sustaining and drawing energy, and the vibrations from his tone played low and pleasurably in her belly.
His hazel eyes held hers in a way he had no right to do, and a buzz of heat rose in her cheeks. She discreetly swallowed and her insides lit up, kindled by his intense gaze. It was clear that his comment had nothing to do with California poppies and, strangely, everything to do with her.
Mrs. Barnell turned and her mouth dropped open. “Mayor Langston! I was so busy fooling with these flowers that I didn’t hear you come in,” she gushed, her smile warm and genuine.
Vanessa’s heart beat faster as Gregory approached the counter. He rested one palm on the glass, not too far from her hand, and cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, ladies.”
“No need to apologize, Mayor,” Mrs. Barnell insisted brightly. She patted her silver-laden black hair. The style, though outdated, was attractive on her and reminded Vanessa of an ’80s soap opera where the women were catty and mean.
But Mrs. Barnell wasn’t anything like those characters. She was softhearted and kind. Still, her face virtually beamed in the presence of Bay Point’s most esteemed political official. It made Vanessa want to gag.
“Right, dear?”
She forced a tight smile. “Absolutely not. What can I do for you, Mayor? As you can see, I’m with a customer.”
Vanessa hated to sound so impersonal. Maisie was more than a customer; she was a good friend. But for some reason, she found it exasperating that Maisie was being so nice to the mayor, that she was being the only person she knew how to be. Didn’t the woman realize he was trying to destroy Bay Point?
Gregory smiled, his teeth gleaming white and perfect behind lips that held untold secrets.
“I need an arrangement, and I know you’re the best florist in town.”
Vanessa ignored the flush of heat that spawned in her cheeks and began tying a large purple gingham bow around the vase in front of her. In addition to California poppies, the bouquet held a collection of white roses, baby’s breath and leafy sprigs of fresh ferns. She inhaled lightly—the fragrance seemed to infuse her troubled spirit.
So he didn’t like flowers, but he wanted a bouquet for someone else. She hoped that Maisie, who was often nosy, would inquire who the lucky woman was. But to her disappointment, she didn’t.
“As long as it’s not like mine,” Mrs. Barnell insisted. “Vanessa makes these special for me, and they’re different every day. She is truly a gifted artist.”
Vanessa felt Gregory’s eyes trace the length of her shoulder-length dark brown hair. Goose pimples broke out on her arms under his careful inspection. She’d recently splurged at the salon and had her stylist add golden-brown highlights. She loved her new look. When he lifted his brow slightly, she knew he did, too. That pleased her, although she didn’t know why, and she almost smiled with satisfaction.
He laid his fedora on the counter, stirring the air just enough to softly tickle the fine hairs on her arms.
“I agree, Mrs. Barnell—she’s one of Bay Point’s greatest treasures.”
Vanessa narrowed her eyes again slightly and tightened the bow with a dull snap.
Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t we, Mayor?
There was an awkward pause, and it seemed as though Gregory wanted to say more. His towering presence so close to her, with only the counter between them, was distracting in a way she didn’t understand.
Vanessa sniffed lightly. Unless her sensitive nose was failing her at the moment, Gregory seemed to be wearing no cologne, and she almost sighed with relief. The musk of male skin was far more pleasing and would require a more careful inspection of him than discreetness would allow. She blushed at the thought, and the glass felt oddly warm against her lower abdomen as she braced herself against it.
Yet Mrs. Barnell didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong, and Vanessa was grateful when she slipped her purse over one arm. She turned and regarded Vanessa.
“That’s beautiful, dear. I’ll be on my way now.”
Maisie’s toffee-colored skin was a striking contrast to the milky-white vase as she clasped her veined hands around it.
“Need any help with that?” Gregory offered.
Mrs. Barnell shook her head. “These flowers and the walk I take every day to get here are the reasons I’m still active. After my husband, Frank, died...”
Her voice faded away, and she seemed lost in her thoughts. A few seconds later, she straightened her shoulders and looked Gregory up and down.
“It’s a shame you’re not married.”
Vanessa’s mouth dropped open slightly at Mrs. Barnell’s remark.
Anyone overhearing the conversation and who didn’t know her would probably think Maisie was just some old busybody handing out commentary nobody wanted to hear on matters that were none of her business.
But Vanessa knew better. The woman was the unofficial matriarch of Bay Point. Locals deemed anything she said either wacky or wise. Despite her eccentric personality, Mrs. Barnell was well respected in the community.
Gregory dropped his hands and smiled patiently, as if he wasn’t at all shocked at her question.
“Right now I think the town needs me more than I need a wife.”
Mrs. Barnell nodded. “That we do, Mayor,” she agreed, a trace of wistfulness in her voice. She glanced down at the flowers. “But without love, even the most beautiful things can wither away and die.”
Vanessa stepped around the counter and said nothing, refusing to let the old woman’s words infiltrate her heart. She knew what it was like to live without love, and she was surviving just fine. It was when she was in love that she felt as if she were dying.
As she guided Maisie the short distance to the door, Gregory followed, as though he were afraid neither woman would make it. While she appreciated his consideration, it felt like an imposition, too. She wasn’t used to a man like him looking out for her, at least not without wanting something in return.
She kept her eyes focused on the store window, where the name of her beloved shop, Blooms in Paradise, was gracefully scripted in frosted white letters on the glass. She opened the front door and a mildly warm breeze, tinged around the edges with the chill of an impending storm, rushed into the room.
“It looks and feels like it’s going to rain any second,” said Mrs. Barnell, her teeth chattering slightly. “I’d better hurry.”
Vanessa stuck her head outside. “It certainly does. Give me a call when you get home so I know you arrived safely.”
When her friend was gone, she swiftly closed the door. The bell was still tinkling as she flipped the small plastic sign over from Open to Closed.
Vanessa took a deep breath before turning and brushing past Gregory, and she could feel his eyes on her back. It warmed and seared her most pleasurably, spine to calves, making her want to run away, a sensory danger sign.
She stopped in front of the two refrigerated cases that protected and displayed her inventory of flowers. Without turning, words tumbled out as if she were in a hurry, even though she had all the time in the world.
“What sort of arrangement do you need, Mayor? If you want something simple, I can put it together for you now. If you want something special, I can have it delivered tomorrow.”
She opened the door of one of the cases. The rush of air seemed unusually cold. As she reached in and switched off the fluorescent light for the evening, her nipples hardened.
Vanessa knew she should have worn a padded bra underneath her outfit, but the sheer one was the only one in her collection that was clean. Besides, she’d opened the doors of her flower cases countless times all day, and her breasts had never reacted so obviously before.
Stepping back, Vanessa shut the door and watched his reflection morph in the glass, flattening and changing before her very eyes.
“I don’t need flowers, Ms. Hamilton. I need a favor.”
Disappointment lodged in her throat. I knew it. At the same time, she was oddly euphoric that he wasn’t there to buy flowers for another woman.
She quickly turned to face him, her navy maxi skirt swishing around her slim legs and calves.
Gregory’s eyes dropped to her cowl-neck blouse. Even with a quick glance down, she could see that the white silky fabric had tented ever so slightly around her nipples.
Her head snapped up and so did his glance, and she blushed.
It’s not him. It’s the cold air! she told herself.
Though her cheeks burned hot and his lips curved into a playful smile, she brazenly refused to cross her arms and instead placed her hands on her hips. She didn’t want him to know she was embarrassed by what he saw, and yet she didn’t want to cover up, either.
“What kind of favor? If it’s a bodyguard you need, clearly that’s not my expertise,” she replied, forking a thumb to the case behind her.
“I would imagine that the thorns of a rose would make a pretty good weapon,” Gregory replied, and then laughed. “Besides, why would I need a bodyguard?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “I read the Courier this morning. The whole town is talking, especially the people who own businesses along Ocean Avenue.”
He clasped his hands behind him, turned and walked to the window. “Ah yes, the downtown redevelopment project. And what are the people saying?”
“That you’ve back-ended them. That you’ve put the wheels in motion without any input from the people your plan will be affecting the most.”
Gregory heeled around, unclasped his hands and held them palm open against his chest.
“There’s been talk about redeveloping downtown for years. I’m only doing what my predecessor always wanted to do but could never seem to get done.”
Vanessa shook her head in disgust, opened the second flower case and turned out the lights. Under Gregory’s watchful eyes, the refrigerated air in the case seemed even chillier now. Her nipples tightened painfully beneath the silk of her bra, but she no longer cared.
Her spirit drew strength from the colorful blooms, reminding her of what was important.
Protecting her livelihood. That was what mattered.
She closed the door, sealing the air and the flowers for the night. “Passing the buck of blame? Watch it, Mayor Langston,” she warned icily, her breath misting against the glass. “You’re starting to sound like a politician.”
Vanessa saw his reflection move toward her, so she abruptly turned and went behind the counter, grateful for the barrier between them.
Gregory approached and raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Barnell didn’t mention one word about the redevelopment. If anyone would have anything to say, it would be her.”
Vanessa stabbed at the buttons on her cash register until the drawer opened. “Maisie is a kind, decent-hearted woman. Sadly, she has too much respect for you to call you out on what is a sorely misguided plan.”
Gregory chuckled, rankling her nerves. “Revitalizing Bay Point’s downtown to make it more attractive for everyone is a misguided plan?”
“Don’t oversimplify things, Mayor,” she snapped, narrowing her eyes. “You’re going to tear down some of our beautiful historic downtown buildings and replace them with ugly, tacky condos.”
“Lifestyle centers,” he corrected.
“Strip malls and overpriced plywood boxes,” she shot back. “Both completely devoid of any structural beauty.”
“No, Vanessa,” Gregory replied in a slow and even tone. “Gorgeous contemporary living spaces where residents have access to everything they need.”
Instead of replying, she shook her head and quickly counted the cash and coins in the drawer. Then she grabbed her ledger book from underneath the counter and notated the amount.
Focusing on the task at hand, before too long she’d added up her profit for the day, and she stuffed the cash plus a few checks into a zippered leather envelope. As soon as Gregory left, she was going to walk down to the bank and deposit the meager amount. Then she was going to go home, take a hot bath and try to forget that he was ever here.
“It sounds like a jail to me,” she said finally, not looking up at the man.
Gregory cleared his throat. “People want modern amenities and a home with an ocean view,” he explained with smooth calmness. “Now they’ll get both in Bay Point.”
She lifted her eyes and sniffed in annoyance. “Yeah, for a price. You know, most people around here can’t afford their own home, let alone buying a new one.”
“There will be tax-abatement incentives that will help,” he insisted. “And we’re partnering with banks that will be willing to lend with little to no down payment.”
“It’s not enough. And it will never work,” she replied with a vehemence that made her proud and sad at the same time. She normally wasn’t a negative person. Politicians, even gorgeous ones, seemed to bring out the worst in her.
“It will work,” he insisted. “With your help, that is. I want you to be my campaign manager.”
She slammed the cash drawer closed, and it felt as if her heart had jumped off a cliff. Although she and Gregory had grown up in the same town, she didn’t even know the man, and now he wanted her at his side?
“You must be joking.”
Her words came out clipped, but it felt as though they were spoken through mud. Gregory placed both palms on the counter. “I assure you, I’m not.”
Vanessa’s throat tightened almost painfully, and she could have drowned in the confident intensity of his hazel eyes.
“And I can assure you that I’m not interested.”
Gregory took a step back. “Really? I’m surprised. Your father told me that flowers are not your only talent. You also have a knack for public relations, and you’ve been especially successful helping politicians in a crisis, I hear.”
Vanessa’s stomach burned with resentment. Her father had no business talking to the mayor about her, but she’d deal with him later.
In Gregory’s voice, she heard no trace of disdain, and that was good. There were only two people who knew the sordid details of her stint in political public relations, and that was the way it would remain. She was a pro at hiding the secrets of powerful and successful men, and even better at hiding her own.
Vanessa tilted her head. “Oh, so you’re admitting your reelection campaign is in trouble?”
“Not trouble,” he insisted, lifting one finger. “Just a bit of a rough spot.”
She broached a wry smile. “I’d say you’re at the top of a raging waterfall about to crash to the rocks below.”
Gregory leaned in closer. “I like to live dangerously,” he murmured in a low voice.
At his words, her pulse raced anew, chasing something elusive and sensual.
She was relieved when he stepped away from the counter and peered into one of the refrigerated cases.
“How’s business been lately?”
It sucks, she thought as she took a sip from her water bottle. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. Had he seen the ledger? She wished she’d waited until he was gone to count the cash drawer.
“Steady. I can’t complain.”
That much was true. Between her walk-in customers, internet orders and those from the hospital, Blooms in Paradise was just breaking even. She hadn’t had a paycheck in months, though, so she was teaching a floral design class at a community college the next town over just to make ends meet. Still, the bills were piling up with no end in sight, and her emergency savings account was almost tapped out.
“Steady,” he repeated to the glass. “That’s good, but growth is even better.”
“At least it’s reliable,” she retorted, and thought she saw his shoulders twitch back.
She hadn’t meant her words to be a slam against him, but when she quickly thought about it, maybe she did. Why couldn’t he just let things in Bay Point stay the same? Sure, things were rough now, but the economy was on the upswing. People would start shopping and eating downtown again. Tourists would rediscover Bay Point’s charm.
Wouldn’t they?
Vanessa squeezed her bottle of water until the plastic crunched loudly. Gregory faced her and opened his mouth, but no words came out.
She felt her blood pressure rise and readied herself for an argument, but he simply turned and walked over to the window.
From where she stood, she knew he was looking at Lucy’s Bar and Grille. Located directly across the street from her shop, it was the only remaining restaurant on downtown Ocean Avenue. All the others had either closed or moved somewhere else.
Gregory chuckled, the sound strangely poignant. “When I was little, my father and I had dinner at Lucy’s often, especially when my mom was in Washington trying to drum up support for her latest cause.”
“She was a lobbyist, correct?”
“She still is.” He nodded, his back ramrod straight. “Anyway, most nights it was so crowded the only reason we got a seat was because we always had a reserved table.”
He turned to Vanessa, and his expression was difficult for her to read.
“I guess it pays to be one of the richest families in town,” she mused.
His eyes found hers, and she was surprised at the whisper of guilt that crossed his face.
“Those were the good old days,” he said, as if he didn’t hear her.
Vanessa skirted around the counter, hoping to put an end to his walk down memory lane. Sometimes the past wasn’t meant to be revisited—it was meant to be forgotten.
“What are you talking about? The Langstons are still one of the wealthiest families in Bay Point. Nothing has changed for you.”
She faced him, folding her arms across her chest. Her body was still heated, but not from desire, from anger.
“If you’re so concerned with memories, what about the Bay Point Carousel?” she accused. “Don’t you know what it means to the community?”
He didn’t answer, but a scowl crossed his face, and she wondered why.
“The carousel is part of our town’s history,” she continued. “You can’t tear it down!”
He turned and leaned against the counter. “I have to do what I think is best for Bay Point.”
Her heart sank, but she remained undeterred. “Are you looking for a vote of approval for your plan? Because you don’t have mine, and you never will.”
He stared at her a moment, and she thought she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes.
“You don’t have to agree with the redevelopment. I just need you to help me convince everyone else in Bay Point. Despite what you think, I am trying to make things better.”
His earnestness almost made Vanessa believe him. But she knew from past experience that guys like him, with their good looks and charm, could suck the heart and independence from a woman. He’d do the very same thing to Bay Point.
“By destroying the legacy of the place you and I grew up in?” she railed. “Somehow I missed that part of your campaign speech, and so did the rest of the town.”
His eyes widened slightly, and he picked up his hat from the counter. She thought he was going to put it on and leave, but then he put it down again.
“Like the carousel, many of the homes are dilapidated and in need of repair. They’re an eyesore on the community.”
The determination in his voice, measured and even, tried to convince her of the practicality of his statement. It also appeared to be a veiled warning that there was no way she could change his mind.
“Those ‘eyesores’ have been in the respective owners’ families and in this community for generations,” Vanessa countered.
She crossed her arms, determined to be just as practical and just as stubborn. “Now you’re going to raze them, and you expect me to help you? Get real, Mayor.”
Gregory moved toward her. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
He touched her shoulder with one fingertip. She jumped back in surprise, but it was too late. The brief contact had already leached a single pulse of fire into her bare skin.
“Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”
“You’ll want to hear this.”
She found it hard to avoid his eyes, so gentle yet commanding attention.
“You remember when we used to play together, right? When we were kids?”
“It was one time, Mayor. Just once.”
“Right. Anyway, remember how we were making mud patties in the back of your grandma’s yard?” he continued, a grin on his face. “I’d water the dirt, and you’d stir it all together with a stick until the ground turned all wet and gooey. Then we’d take our shoes off, step in and squish the mud between our toes. And you’d laugh and laugh.”
“Yeah, so?” she replied, keeping her expression and her tone light.
His lips curved up. “Whether or not you decide to manage my campaign, I’d pay any price to see you smile like that again.”
Her stomach dropped as if she’d just plummeted over a steep hill, yet she managed to ignore the feeling. She brushed past him and opened the door of her shop.
“Leave and I’ll smile for free.”
Gregory turned back to the counter and grabbed his hat. Her eyes settled on the collar of his crisp white shirt, his trim waist and then his pants, which fit nicely over his backside.
He stopped in front of her. When he slid his hat onto his head, it took everything in her power not to take a step back. Though her feet remained rooted to the floor, she felt drawn to him, like a young seedling yearning toward the sky. She could wilt like a flower against him—probably lots of women could and did, but not her.
“Too bad I won’t be around to see it,” he said softly.
Gregory looked into her eyes, and once again she found it difficult to look away.
“Come on, Vanessa. You remember what Bay Point used to be like when we were in school.”
She sniffed. “I barely knew you then, and I don’t know you now. So don’t even act like we were friends, Mayor.”
Gregory laughed. “You act as though we Langstons were kings and everyone else in Bay Point were our serfs. You know that’s not true. Your father was, and still is, a well-respected physician. You certainly weren’t poor,” he pointed out.
“Leave my father—and my family—out of this.”
The frostiness in her tone was unwarranted, and she knew Gregory wasn’t accusing her. Still, his statement galled her. Her family might not have been poor, but they also never had the air of entitlement cloaked around them that the Langston family always had. Or at least, Gregory’s mother and father.
Gregory’s expression sobered again as he plucked one of the red roses from the fresh bouquet she always kept by the door.
“Look, neither of us have any control over our backgrounds, but together you and I could bring back the magic of Bay Point.”
He ran the barely open bud along her jawline, arousing her tender skin until it felt as if it were on fire. She bit the inside of her lip as the heady scent wafted toward her nose, seeming to swirl like a dervish around her head.
“Think about my offer, Vanessa. You won’t regret it.”
Gregory gently tapped the bud on her chin, just once. It was enough to make her throat go dry and wish it were his lips.
He bowed slightly and left, taking the rose with him.
She locked the door, then carefully gathered up the remaining roses and walked over to the refrigerated case. One by one, she placed the stems inside an empty vase. When she was finished, she closed the door and placed her palm against the glass.
She stared at the bouquet of roses. Twelve had become eleven, and she felt as though she’d lost some kind of intimate battle. A war within herself—a war she was tired of fighting.
“We can’t live in the past, Gregory,” she said softly, her warm breath misting against the glass. “But we can’t completely erase it, either.”
Ever since she was a child, she’d always felt safe in the garden. Or now as an adult in her shop. Tending to her flowers. As if they could hide her from anyone, protect her from anything. Help her to remember. Make her forget.
That time was gone. So was her sense of security.
When, Vanessa wondered sadly, had everything changed?
