Читать книгу Million Dollar Valentine - Rita Estrada Clay - Страница 9

“SO FAR, your floral designs with the wild color combinations have sold like hotcakes!” Standing at the cash register, Linda sounded just a little shocked by that fact as she watched a woman holding one of Crystal’s floral arrangements walk out of the store.

Crystal, standing at the work counter, laughed. “It’s the price, Linda. My creations don’t sell for as much as Aunt Helen’s or yours because they’re not as elaborate.”

“Oh, I’m sure, and the colors aren’t found in the usual Entrée type of arrangements.” She sounded so puzzled that Crystal almost felt sorry for her.

“I know, but you see, customers get to walk out of here with an original from a very exclusive shop and feel as if they got a bargain.”

Linda’s face lit up. “Of course. They get the Entrée name without paying the full Entrée price or getting the Entrée colors.” Her words finally sunk into her own thoughts and her eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t mean that your efforts weren’t good! I mean, they must be or they wouldn’t have sold at all and they’d still be sitting on the shelf and not being sold….”

Crystal gave her new friend a hug. “Don’t worry. I understand what you’re trying to say and I appreciate it. But I know they’re not the same as what the store usually stocks.”

Then yet another customer came up to the counter with one of Crystal’s creations and set it down. Without saying a word, she pulled out her Visa card and offered it in payment.

“The yellow, blue and cream,” Linda said, as amazed as she’d been earlier.

It took everything Crystal had to make sure she didn’t laugh aloud. “That will be thirty-six dollars,” she said as she ran the card through the machine.

Within seconds she had a funny feeling. A very distinct and definite funny feeling.

Blake was close by.

She handed the woman a pen while her gaze searched the front door area. But she’d waited too late to spot him there. He was already inside the shop and standing to the right of the register area, studying one of her creations with a quizzical look on his somber handsome face. Obviously, he didn’t understand the attraction, either.

Crystal would have bet that the colors and design were just a little too wild for Blake to take a liking to. It wasn’t his taste at all. Just like its creator.

Just then, he looked up and locked eyes with her. He stared at her as deeply as he had examined the arrangement. Just for a change of pace—and to shock him a little by proving she could do it if she wanted to—Crystal had worn makeup at full war-paint level and had wrapped her hair to the top back of her head, securing it with an Oriental hair pin. It ached to be let loose and fall and tumble about her shoulders. Small, golden tendrils curled around her hairline, emphasizing her features. Then she topped it off with a short-skirted navy suit with a bright-red blouse. And high—very high—heels.

It was an occasion. She donned this outfit maybe once a year and reveled in the double takes she got from people who knew her. Until Blake said something about it, she wasn’t going to comment, either. But his reaction was worth a thousand words. She just wanted to prove she could look the executive when she wanted to. He’d probably never see it again.

“Are you here to identify me in a lineup, or to take me to lunch?” she asked casually while separating the paper receipts. She turned back to her customer before he could answer. “Thank you for your business, and if we can help you customize an arrangement, please let us know. We’ll be glad to make one with your personal colors.”

“Thank you,” the woman said delightedly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, you remembered we were having lunch today?” he asked, after the customer had left the store.

“Of course. I was just waiting for you to tell me where to meet you.” She grinned. “You could have saved yourself the trip and called with the info. I could have met you.”

His gaze wandered down her body, straying here and there and causing heat to rise in her like sap in spring. It was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to light his fire. But he never cracked a smile at her choice of wardrobe. “I always pick up my dates.”

“In that case, Blake, I’m ready.” Ignoring his formality, she moved over to his side, took his arm and gave a short wave to Linda, who was watching as if there was nothing else going on in the world.

“Where are we going?” Crystal said as they passed through the store and into the mall area.

He tightened his arm at his side as if to keep and capture her hand. “To my office. Do you mind?”

Crystal stopped and, unwilling to let her go, Blake stopped with her, waiting for her to speak.

“Are you attempting to ravish my body during lunch without permission?” she asked, cautiously.

A light flared in his deep-blue eyes. “No. I’d never do that.”

Darn. He was still in control and still building tension between them. Blake was some kinda guy. “Are your intentions honorable?”

His sculpted mouth twitched. “Of course.”

She laughed softly. “Liar.”

“That’s not true. If I say it, I mean it.” He finally let a small smile through. “Although I can only guarantee now, Ms. Tynan. I can’t guarantee later.”

An almost joke. He was warming up, and warming up her heart, too. She tugged on his arm. “Let’s go, then. You can’t do anything without getting between me and my food. I won’t stand for it.”

“Now I know where your priorities lie,” he said, his steady gait once more leading her toward his office.

She kept pace by taking two rickety steps to every one he took. But she wasn’t going to admit how hard it was for her to walk on stilts. Instead, she continued to trip along. “You seem like the kind of guy who always knew where you stood. Since the age of two, anyway.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, obviously surprised at her observation.

“Because you’re so controlled. So…” she began.

“Rigid?” His husky voice sounded as dry as dust.

This wasn’t the time to lie. After all, she didn’t know him well enough to lie, yet. For something like that, you had to have a history and want to save someone’s feelings. “So you know.”

“If I didn’t know before, I’ve got that feeling now.”

“From me?” she asked.

He held open the office glass door. Marilyn wasn’t at her desk. “Especially from you.” He took her arm and led her firmly past his office into the conference room.

“I’m so sorry if I…” Crystal stopped. The walnut conference table had a thick, white tablecloth draped over one end. The table was set formally, right down to crystal water glasses. “Oh, my,” she breathed.

She had expected cafeteria food on a tray or from a metal basket lined with paper. Or maybe sandwiches in clear, plastic sleeves. But this…well, this was far more than she’d imagined. The privacy, good linens, formal setting—all, made it so very special.

Plain white containers covered in shiny metal sat in front of the place settings. Crystal lifted a cover and sniffed. Then lifted another cover and sniffed again before looking over her shoulder at the man who watched her so intently. It smelled heavenly. “Thai?”

“Vietnamese.”

Her eyes lit up. “Um, spicy.”

“Yes.” He grinned. “I figured it fit you.” His slow grin was catching, to say nothing about sexy as all-get-out.

She gave a short curtsy, proud of herself for not letting her stiletto heels tip her over. “Thank you.”

Blake pulled out a side chair and offered her the seat. Feeling like the princess in a fairy tale, Crystal took it. Blake sat at the end of the table and reached for his napkin. Crystal followed suit, a little slower than Blake. She was so conscious of his every move—until the tantalizing scent of well-prepared food wafted her way again and reminded her stomach just how hungry she was.

Without hesitating any longer, she helped herself to sampling the containers on the table. “Is this from one of the mall restaurants?” she asked, taking a double helping of the freshly steamed vegetables.

“No, it’s from a restaurant downtown.” Blake helped himself from a far container, then passed it to her. “Have you eaten Vietnamese before?”

“Yes, and I love it.” Crystal took a bite and rolled her eyes, drawing another smile from Blake. Good. Getting a good reaction from him was more satisfying than a full stomach.

They talked about foods and restaurant experiences they treasured. Crystal watched his mouth move, his changing expressions flow across his face and enjoyed his smile and twinkling blue eyes as he relaxed. Even if he was a little uptight, the man was far more fascinating than anything he could state about food. Not that she didn’t like the topic.

“This is my second favorite topic of conversation,” she announced, then watched his eyes light up again.

“Can I ask?”

“No.” Her smile softened the negative reply. Why would he want to talk about massage therapy right now?

Blake reached for a small thermal coffee pot and poured them both some. She indulged him in it. She hadn’t said no, and certainly hadn’t mentioned in their conversations that she only drank green tea. Besides, a couple of sips of coffee wouldn’t hurt.

“Do you always wear suits?” she asked, noting his sophisticated blue suit.

“Most of the time. Especially when I’m at work.”

“Why not more casual?”

“You have something against suits?” Those thick brows rose in challenge.

But she wasn’t stopping now. “They’re very formal. Don’t you find they put the average mall customer off?”

“I don’t run into the average mall customer very often, Crystal,” he reminded her in a voice that said he was teaching someone the rudiments about his job. “I deal with executives across the country who need space for stores, or specialty-shop owners who can afford long leases. I check them out financially and make the best deal for the mall corporation, whom I represent.”

“Then who takes care of any complaints from customers or security?”

“My secretary handles customers, along with a part-time young man who acts as an assistant. And Jet, a retired policeman is head of security and the guards.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t anything like she imagined. Somehow, she’d thought of him as working on a slightly smaller scale. “So you work with the major department stores as well as the small stores like Entrée?”

“Right.”

He was one man against the many. “You must get tired of the pressure by the end of the day.”

“Especially physically.” He smiled, dodging her question. “I get tired of standing on my feet on concrete when I’m negotiating space. Then sooner or later, I get a backache from the tension.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“In fact,” he said, stretching out his legs and heaving a sigh. “That’s what I’ve been doing for the past three days.”

“And are the people you’re dealing with going to rent space?”

“Don’t know yet. I’ve got another two or three weeks, maybe months to negotiate with them. They’re a major department store that the Chamber of Commerce wants to see build in the city. So do I, but not for the same reasons.”

She didn’t think about what she was about to do. She just did it. Crystal pushed her chair back and reached between them, wrapping her palm around his ankle and pulled it up to her lap.

“What are you doing?” he asked, startled.

“I won’t hurt you. Just relax,” she commanded. “I’m rubbing your foot. It’s what I do for a living, remember?”

She untied his wing tip’s shoelaces and slipped off his shoe, ignoring his tugging against her. “Wing tips? I thought they went out with my grandfather.”

He pulled his foot away again, but she resisted. “Crystal…” he began.

He called her Crystal. That made her feel so much better. The formality was finally over, and all it had taken was exposing his foot. Patting the sole, she reassured him. “Can’t you take a gift? I usually charge people to do this—and they line up for the opportunity.”

Blake hesitated only seconds more before resigning himself to her touch. She began rubbing the bottom pads of his well-clad toes, one by one.

“I’m not sure this is done on a first date.” Blake eventually sighed, leaning back and completely giving in to her touch.

“Really?” She rotated the ball of his foot, then his ankle. “Are you saying this is a real first date?”

“Mmm. What did you think? That I ask all store managers to lunch?”

“No, I thought you were doing this because of my aunt,” she said. All her concentration was on his foot. He had a good, strong foot with a high arch. An excellent sign of a healthy body. She made a fist and rubbed the arch to heel, then back again.

Blake groaned in delight. The deep, rough sound was erotic, sending chills down her spine. He cleared his throat. “This isn’t very romantic, Crystal.”

She rubbed her knuckles along the side of his foot. “Really? What do you think is romantic? Sex?”

He looked startled, his blue eyes widening. “Are you always so blunt?”

She wouldn’t tell him that her curiosity wouldn’t settle for less. “Would you rather I act coy and charming and not let you know what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling?” She rubbed the ball of each toe, especially the big one, to stimulate his brain.

He gave a small satisfied grunt as she hit the spot that marked his inhibitions. He was most tense there. Good. He could stand loosening up a little. “Does it have to be one way or the other? Isn’t there a happy medium?”

“There is, but most people don’t recognize it when they see it.” She rubbed his toes again, taking slow care to work each underside pad for his spine. “For instance, I never said a word about your shoes before now. Nor did I mention sex. I kept it to myself and got no credit for doing so, until now.”

“Thank you,” he said.

She gave a smile that told him she wasn’t giving up on the discussion. “You mentioned romance and I wanted to know your opinion. Is sex the same as romance to you?”

Giving a quick glance through her lashes, she found him carefully studying her. If she hadn’t looked, she never would have known that his skin seemed to have tanned and flushed highlights. He was blushing.

Interesting.

“Sex is a part of romance.” It sounded more like a strangled confession than a conversation. He obviously didn’t talk about it much. If ever.

Crystal’s fingers stroked the back of the heel, then worked up to the ankle bone, rubbing and stimulating that part of his foot which, according to reflexology, was connected to his sexual organs. Her fingers massaged softly yet firmly. She knew what she was doing, but he didn’t.

His flush increased.

It wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t be stimulating him this way. After all, she wasn’t willing to do anything about the sexual feelings she was creating.

“Let me have your other foot,” she said, patting the top of his foot to let him know she was through.

“Hmmm?” he asked absently, observing his foot as if it belonged to someone else.

She lowered his foot to the floor. “Your other foot?”

Blake sat up straight. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” he said briskly.

“You’d better take advantage of me now, Blake. I’m here and I’m willing, so give me your other foot and let me complete the job.” Crystal leaned forward to reach for his other foot, but stopped in midreach.

Blake stared back, his eyes delving into her in a way that washed chill bumps down her spine. Thoughts better left unsaid passed between them. Vivid, heated images flashed through her mind, and all of them had to do with making love with the man in front of her.

Keeping his eyes locked with hers, very slowly, Blake leaned forward. He came closer and closer to Crystal. Without a doubt, she knew what was going to happen. It was written in his eyes and flooded through her in the form of want. Want to taste. Want to touch. Every warning bell in her went off loudly. This man wasn’t for her. He wasn’t wealthy, he wasn’t free and easy. He wasn’t funny or people-oriented. No. Not at all.

Yet, while thinking all this so clearly, she leaned even closer, meeting him halfway across the space that divided them. His warm breath flowed across her face like a caress. His sculpted mouth was so close to her own that she could touch him with her lips to sip just a little taste of him. That ought to soothe her appetite.

Just one taste…

Blake’s mouth pulled back, just inches from hers. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his voice rough and deep, running like a shivering-cold river through her.

“I wish you would.”

He was no longer Mr. Nice Guy. “Come here,” he ordered.

And she did.

When his mouth touched hers, Crystal’s breath caught in her throat. A wonderful zing slipped down her spine, then pulsated through the rest of her. He brushed her lips, then brushed again before capturing hers, holding her captive with the touch of his mouth alone.

Mouth clung to mouth, his daring hers to remain passive and to ignore the intense chemistry that pulsed between them. She felt warm and bubbly and smooth and sweet and sexy, melting and melding with him. So many more emotions flowed through her—most she could not even begin to analyze. She couldn’t; her mind wasn’t working properly. It was engaging emotions without thought….

Blake’s hand touched the side of her face, his fingers burying themselves in her thick strands of hair, holding her even closer. Crystal knew she wanted so much more of him than was possible. Right now.

Again, she ignored the clanging sound of warning bells. With both hands, she reached up to hold his head close while her tongue darted out to explore his. “More,” she finally whispered. “I want more.”

The moan that echoed from deep in his chest was her answer.

Before she could take action, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her into the firm haven of his lap. He settled her within the confines of his legs.

She went willingly, circling her arms around his neck and holding on as if he were the lifeline in a turbulent sea.

Blake took command, teaching her quickly that she only thought she had initiated his interest. His lust. His own special brand of sexiness. His tongue led her in a sensuous dance that told her who was boss and why. The alpha male, the lone leader of the pack.

But she couldn’t let him think that she was giving in. After all, she was female and also in charge. With hands that shook, she ran her fingers inside his jacket, lacing them across his chest, teasing his nipples through his lightly starched shirt as much as he teased her with his tongue and hands that circled and touched everywhere but on her heavy breasts.

Heaven. Heaven was the image of Blake lying her on the conference table and…

“Boss?” a female voice called.

Although Crystal heard the voice, it didn’t register right away.

Blake pulled his mouth from hers and dragged in a harsh breath. His heart pumped heavily beneath her hand. “I’ll be right there, Marilyn. Give me a minute, will you?”

“Right,” she said. “You’ve got an appointment in half an hour.”

It finally registered. Blake’s secretary had almost walked into the room and caught them in a clinch that had far more to do with sex than sweetness.

She rested her forehead against his shoulder for a moment as she caught her breath. “You miscalculated,” she murmured, afraid to raise her voice for fear it would crack with emotion.

“How?”

Crystal gathered her emotions together and tucked them away, to be diagnosed later. Right now she had to get out of here with dignity intact. “You should have kissed me earlier.”

She stood and smoothed her skirt back down, pretending she was concerned with wrinkles when she couldn’t even see them. Her eyes refused to focus.

“I should have,” he replied, softly.

“My curiosity would have been appeased and we’d be back at work right about now.” She dodged his gaze by looking at her watch. It was past her time to be back at the store. “Now we’re both late.”

“I should have kissed you the moment we walked in here,” he repeated. “Then we could have had more time to play around.” This time his tone was grim. There wasn’t a shred of humor in his voice.

Her hand arrested his movement as he turned. “Hey, you,” she teased softly. “Lighten up.”

“I am lightened up.”

His frown made lines directly over the bridge of his nose. “Good grief, I’d hate to see you in a mean mood.” She turned and began closing the lids to the containers.