Читать книгу Million Dollar Valentine - Rita Estrada Clay - Страница 8

“WE’VE GOT to keep meeting like this,” Crystal said, enjoying being in his arms even though his expression resembled a thundercloud. “I love surprises.”

“You weren’t looking where you were going.” His frown made his thick, arched brows meet over the strong bridge of his nose.

And, of course she hadn’t been watching, or she wouldn’t be in his arms now. The way he said it, it sounded like an accusation. “No, I wasn’t, was I?” she said brightly. “But I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.”

“What?” If possible, the crease between his brows grew deeper.

“Well, I ran into the arms of a handsome man who is pure gentleman and with whom I’m safe.”

He continued to frown. Where was this man’s sense of humor? Apparently, her words didn’t please him any more than her actions. “It could have been different.”

Crystal gently pulled away. “But it wasn’t,” she reminded him firmly. “So I won’t spend time worrying about what could have been.”

He dropped his hands to his sides and she continued to walk. “Where are you going?”

Crystal raised her brows. “I beg your pardon?” It was her coolest voice, and it usually worked well with men in stalling any personal question.

It didn’t seem to faze him. “It’s lunchtime. Where are you going?”

“Eventually to the flower shop’s back room. I have my own meal from home.” She took another step back. “But right now, I’m walking the mall and checking out the window displays.”

Blake hesitated a moment, and Crystal realized he didn’t know quite what to say. She took pity on him. “Do you have a few minutes to walk along with me?”

He gave a quick nod. “A few. I’d like that.”

Crystal pulled out a plastic sandwich bag from her purse and opened it, offering him a taste as if it were Godiva chocolate. “Would you like a carrot stick?”

“Carrot?” He peered inside the bag.

He couldn’t be that ignorant. Carrots were good for a body, and he had to know that. “It won’t hurt, I promise,” she said, then something else caught her eye.

Her gaze rested on the next window. It was filled with young children’s clothing; all the latest styles. She stopped and studied the bright colors, the way the mannequins had their soft cotton overall pant legs rolled, and the brilliant neon-colored buckets of sand for decoration. She forgot for a moment that he was standing by her side.

“Do you like children?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She continued studying the window. “Love them. Especially if they belong to someone else and they’re already little people, like these mannequins. See that tunnel?” she asked, pointing to the child-size plastic tunnel that ran around a square inside. It was meant to keep the children happy while their parents shopped.

“Yes.”

“They never had those when I was growing up. I’ve always wanted to go through one of those.”

His brows, so expressive, rose. “What for?”

“For the fun of it.”

“There are other ways to have fun, Ms. Tynan.”

She laughed, then began walking toward the next window, eager to see what the other merchants had done with their windows. “I mean so I could be with kids—kids who can talk and walk and explore the wonders of the world. Not babies,” she said conversationally.

It took him a moment or so to catch up with her thoughts and answer them. “I thought all women liked babies.”

“I don’t know about all women. Just me, and I do. And I will know more about them when I have one of my own. But for now, I like the ones that can tell me what they need.” She chewed her carrot stick, then reached for another one. “My goddaughter, Brenna, is three, and it’s a wonderful age.”

“I thought three was an awful age.”

Crystal stopped and thought a moment. “No. I think those are the terrible twos.”

“You mean they turn three, and the terrible twos are over? Candles, cakes and then the big change?” he asked.

Crystal slowed in midstep. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him in wonder. “You just made a joke.”

He stopped and faced her, blocking out the current window dressing. “And?”

“I’m startled. That’s all.” She was shocked, but she wouldn’t let him know how shocked she was.

“Why?”

“Well,” she began, studying the faint crinkle lines around his beautiful blue eyes. If he ever fully smiled, her heart better watch out! “Until now, you’ve hardly done anything but frown at me since we met this morning.”

“That’s not true.” But the light in his eyes told the story. He just realized she was right, and how stern he’d been with her.

“Yes, it is,” she contested softly, gently, unwilling to begin another argument but not willing to agree for the sake of agreement, either. “And your smile is dynamite, as is the twinkle in your handsome blue eyes.”

Blake gave a rueful sigh. “First you accuse me of being a grouch, act as if I’m anal retentive, and then you tell me I’m handsome. Are you always so direct?”

“I try to be,” she said modestly, pleased that he could at least read her correctly. There might be hope for him yet, even though it’d be with another woman. “And don’t forget honest.”

He gave a laugh, delightful lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes again. His smile truly was dynamite, when he used it. Darn. Taking his arm, she turned him around and began walking again. “Well, in that case, Blake, you can continue with me on this quest of mine for a lesson in window dressing—as long as you occasionally smile.”

“Another sexist remark, Ms. Tynan?” Blake asked dryly. “If a man said that, he’d be considered a pig.”

“So be it, Blake,” she said, laughter in her voice. “But there has to be some retribution for your sex’s behavior over the past two thousand years. I’m just one woman doing my part to show you the way to change your outlook and ego stance.”

“You flatter me. I feel so…”

“Feminine?” she interjected.

“No. Like a sex object.”

“Lucky you,” she said, patting his arm. “You never know when it’s your lucky day.”

His laughter was so delightfully sexy, Crystal had to stop and look at him again. The pride of making him laugh warmed her insides. Without thinking, she went on tiptoe and touched his lips, lightly brushing them with hers. “Thank you for such a delightful sound.”

His laughter stopped and he sucked in his breath. “You’re welcome,” he finally managed to say. But he sounded strangled and the hold on her hand against his body tightened.

She liked that.

One of the women’s lingerie store windows was having a chilly month, displaying seductive bras and panties in cream and white silks and rayons on mannequins also wearing winter hats. Large snowflakes on invisible strings hung from the ceiling and the floor was covered in tiny snowflakes.

Crystal stopped and stared, making mental notes of the techniques that the window dresser had used to emphasize the hot, sexy appeal of the undergarments in the snowstorm scene. She paid close attention to where thumbtacks were secured, what kind of paper was used to create the snowflakes and how the mannequins were positioned and the choices of lingerie on view from affordable to extravagant.

“Ms. Tynan?” Blake’s voice was low but urgent.

“Mmm?” she asked, still staring at the details of the window.

“Can we leave this setting?”

“What?” She looked up at him. It took a minute to recognize a definitely uncomfortable male. “Oh,” she said. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t say anything, but the expression on his handsome face revealed his relief. Crystal chewed another carrot stick to hide her smile as they continued to stroll through the mall.

Blake stopped in front of a cafeteria, where the line was already out the door. “Can I interest you in something to eat?”

“Not today, but if you ask me tomorrow, I’ll be sure not to bring my lunch.” She looked around. “I like cafeterias. They cater to my weird taste.”

“Somehow, I knew that.”

“Good, then we’ll meet tomorrow for lunch?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” he confirmed, glancing at his watch.

If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said he was reluctant to end their meeting until that telltale look at the time. He obviously had an appointment scheduled. That wasn’t good for the digestion, but until she could teach him differently, it was his way.

“See you tomorrow,” she promised with a smile. And with a wave, Crystal set off down the other side of the mall, still peering into windows and studying the various display techniques.

She felt Blake’s eyes on her for a few moments, then she knew he’d disappeared.

He was an oddity. So handsome, yet he didn’t seem to be quite aware of it himself. So uptight in his thoughts and actions, that he believed it was normal to be so shut off from others. So sophisticated in business, yet unable to study a window that had women’s underwear. And he had one heck of a great body, but didn’t eat carrot sticks….

Unusual to say the least.

Crystal knew she was a bit unconventional, but she wasn’t that far out of the loop of normal! And she was told she had a great sense of humor—of course she was told that by friends who shared the same sense of sublime silliness.

Besides, she had as much of a right to be silly or businesslike as much as she had a right to be herself. It took her a while to realize it, but she knew now that she could be anything she wanted to be without having to fit into someone else’s idea of normal or conventional. In the past few years she’d noticed something startling: everyone’s idea of normal was different.

Aunt Helen was right. You can’t please everyone all the time, so please yourself first—as long as it doesn’t hurt someone else.

Her watch told her that if she hurried, she’d have ten minutes to eat her lunch. Yogurt and two pieces of fresh fruit along with a bottle of water flavored with cranberry juice awaited her in the back room.

Surprisingly, her first day on the job at Aunt Helen’s store was the most fun she’d had in a while. She couldn’t wait to see how she felt tomorrow, when she had lunch with Blake Wright.

Crystal grinned. It was funny to call him Blake while he called her Ms. Tynan. But she refused to give up the right to call him by his first name. In every telephone conversation with her aunt over the past two years, Helen had referred to him as Blake. Crystal wasn’t about to learn a new name for the man her aunt had spoken of. Part of her was hoping she’d come to know the same Blake as her aunt did. That Blake had a sense of humor and was a lot of fun, if her aunt was to be believed—and if the peek at him she’d just had was really real. In fact, Crystal was praying for him to be the same. The glimpses of the man she’d seen beneath his disapproving attitude was nice. Sweet. And very human.

It was that stiff attitude he occasionally wore that she wasn’t too sure of being able to handle without giving him directions on where to take it. But then, if she could handle her boss, Tim, at the lodge, she could handle anything. Now there was a stiff. The difference was, she wasn’t the least bit interested in seeing if there was another side to Tim. She had to admit, at least to herself, that she would love to see the other side of Blake…. If only for a little while.

BLAKE WATCHED Crystal walk away, his eyes straying from her small shoulders and tiny waist to her swaying hips. Her walk was free and sensuous and feminine. Her shoulders moved with a rhythm that was also feminine. But if he’d seen that walk on a male, he’d have called it cocky. On this woman, it was just damn sexy.

He gave himself a mental shake, and deliberately looked away. What the hell was on his mind that he would get so wrapped up in a woman’s walk? Especially this woman?

She was his opposite and he was astute enough to know it. Although she was beautiful in a very unusual way, there was more that called to a male than her looks. It was the light behind her eyes. The promise of her constantly uptilted lips. The softness of her body in all the right places.

She was made for loving. Like it or not, he had to admit he was drawn to her physically. And that could never be if he wanted to keep his friendship with Helen. After all, he couldn’t be friends with the aunt, whom he genuinely liked and admired, while making love to the niece until he tired of the kook. It wasn’t right. Crystal wasn’t right for him.

Too free-spirited.

Too casual.

Too…sexy.

Blake 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 of his friendship with you.”

“Of course,” Helen stated dryly. “Why didn’t I think of that? You’re my niece so he’s sworn to spend an hour with you because he is worried about me. It’s his way of sending greetings instead of visits or dinner.”

“Well, it really doesn’t matter,” Crystal stated airily as she stood and walked toward the kitchen. “He’s just a friend of yours who, in his own stiff way, tried to be friendly to me for the day. It’s over and now I’ll get us dinner.”

“Methinks, my niece, that you doth protest too much,” Helen said, a lilt in her tone.

“Methinks, my aunt, that you have a problem perceiving relationship problems.” She refused to mention she was having lunch with Blake tomorrow. It was a secret she wanted to keep to herself for a little while longer.

They ate while watching the news, each one easy with the other’s presence. It was relaxing and nice, reminding Crystal of her teenage years when her own mother had died and Helen had become her surrogate mom. It had been a rough time, but Aunt Helen had made it bearable.

But dancing in the back of Crystal’s mind were some of the windows she’d seen in the mall. She wanted to try her hand at something different than the ordinary and average. She wasn’t sure how, yet. But if she studied the problem, it would come to her.

Solutions always did.

Half an hour after the news, she kissed her aunt good-night. “I’ll see you in the morning, dear. If you need me, call and I’ll hear you.”

“I’ll be fine, Crystal. I broke my arm, not my head. And I feel frustrated enough not being able to the do what I want,” the older woman groused. “Just give me another week or two, and I’ll find my stride again.”

“I’ll give you six weeks, Aunt. No less,” she promised, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

But after Crystal was in her bedroom at the end of the hall for fifteen minutes, she found herself too keyed up to be able to sleep. No matter what, her thoughts wound back to Blake and their talk. She relived everything he said and did. Every movement he made. Every emotion that he brought out in her. And she became more awake by the minute.

He was so frustrating. Was there a wild, devil-may-care bone in his body? Did he ever run naked through his apartment? What about belly laughs that massaged his every organ?

Forcing herself to focus on something else, she lit one of the scented candles she’d brought with her from Santa Fe and sat cross-legged in the center of her bed. With her hands palms up and open to all kinds of possibilities, she took several deep breaths to cleanse her body of all the pent-up carbon monoxide she’d cultivated all day. After a few minutes, she did her transcendental meditation. If it was good enough for half the doctors in the world to proclaim it as calming medication for the heart, then it was good enough for her to quickly erase the provocative image of a more free, spontaneous, Blake Wright running through a field of mountain flowers in joyous abandon—naked.

She hoped.