by Ava Miles
At the door to the house, he watched as Amelia patted Carrot on the flank and told him to go back to the barn. “Does he really listen to you?” he asked.
“Of course. He’s my special pony. Watch. He knows where the barn is.”
Sure enough, Carrot wandered down the sidewalk and turned right down the snow-covered drive, straight toward the red barn.
“Impressive.”
“Mom says women in touch with their true power can do anything.”
Biting his lip again, he knocked on the door decorated with a festive holiday wreath. “Your mom is a wise woman.”
“She’s the best.” Amelia grabbed the doorknob and tugged him inside. “No need to knock. You’re with me.”
Still, as she opened the door and stepped into the small foyer, he called, “We saved the snowman and come bearing gifts. Are you ready for me?”
He heard the tap of high-heeled boots. When Annie appeared, the welcoming smile on her face seemed to run off slowly in the other direction.
Something stilled inside of him, as if all sound had ceased except his breath. His chest filled with a feeling so unique and wonderful he felt as if he’d come home after being away for a long journey.
Their eyes met, and he watched as she swallowed thickly. Was she nervous? She lifted a hand to her blond hair and touched the ends where they curled like corkscrews before lowering it back to her side.
His heart started to pound with vigor in his chest. Up close, her quiet beauty stole over him, along with an intoxicating flowery note that seemed to fill the air around him. She wore no makeup, but her fair skin seemed to glow with the same vibrance as her sapphire blue eyes.
Even though he knew it wasn’t professional, he couldn’t resist the temptation to take in the rest of her. Her curves made his palms sweat, an occurrence so unusual he took note. This was attraction, a kind so powerful it was as rare as coming across the new “it” thing in fashion.
His sister Caitlyn’s question about meeting a woman he wanted to soul kiss—to commune with in a manner both physical and spiritual—rose in his mind. He hadn’t met her yet, he’d told Caitlyn at the time. He’d also said his reaction to meeting such a woman would be to run like hell in the opposite direction or to marry her the same day.
With an utter clarity he’d only felt a few times in his life, he knew this woman was the one he wanted to keep soul kissing forever. She was his soulmate. Maybe it was crazy to think so, but it was the Merriam way: they all seemed to know their soulmate upon sight.
Well, he’d found her, and he certainly wasn’t going to run.
He might be here for holiday gift baskets and to potentially buy her company, but deep down, he was certain he was here for more.
She was one of the answers to his existential question.
Chapter 2
Annie couldn’t stop staring.
She’d seen Flynn Merriam’s picture before, but in person, he was magnetic. Besides, he was sweetly holding Amelia’s hand alongside a giant gift basket. Amelia didn’t do that with just anyone. Her youngest was like her in that way.
Flynn’s green eyes reminded her of the water around Pano Koufonisi, one of Greece’s tiny islands she’d visited so long ago, back when all of her dreams had seemed possible. His stylish cashmere coat and Italian shoes seemed like they’d been plucked out of that happy time too. But his thick, sandy hair and golden skin marked him a beach lover.
Her skin warmed as he continued to look at her, almost as though the hot Greek sun was sinking into her flesh. She could hear the waves alongside the incessant pounding of her heart. She realized she was short of breath.
She’d never been this attracted to a man. Ever.
“Mom! Why do you look so funny? This is Flynn. He’s nice and he’s my new friend. Plus, he fixed Olaf. And he brought this huge basket from a city named after an apple. Isn’t that crazy?”
She held out her arms to her daughter, who rushed into them without hesitation. “This one soaks up everything like a sponge, but I’m teaching her and her sisters about being independent women, aren’t I? Now, let’s get you out of your Elsa suit so I can talk with Mr. Merriam about business.” Glancing up at him, she added, “Thank you for bringing a gift. You didn’t have to.”
“You can call him Flynn, Mom. Right?” She looked over her shoulder as Annie unzipped her snowsuit.
“Yes, please,” he said, his eyes dancing. “Mr. Merriam makes me feel old. And something made me think you might like Zabar’s New York City basket.”
Her skin pebbled with goose bumps, and before she could thank him again, Amelia yelled, “Hey, Mom! Flynn’s as old as you. Right?”
Oh, her daughter. Since Flynn was struggling not to laugh, she knew he wasn’t offended, thank goodness. “Honey, it’s not professional to talk about people’s ages.”
“But he said he understood you feeling old because he’s turned thirty too.” She sat on the ground to tug off her boots. “I never want to turn thirty. It sounds awful.”
“Well, I personally hope you have many birthdays after thirty since I love you so much,” she said, tugging off the last wet boot and helping her daughter back up on her feet. “Now, how about you go watch a movie like we discussed?”
Amelia ran over to Flynn and hugged his leg. “Okay, but Flynn’s got to say goodbye before he leaves. Have a good meeting.” Then she thundered back to Annie and hugged her and was off in the direction of the family room.
“Thank you for being so kind to her,” Annie said, feeling shy now that she was alone with him. “I was preparing for our meeting, and I thought she—”
“I loved making a new friend, Annie.” He set the basket down and shrugged out of his coat as he stomped his boots on the rug. “Where can I hang my coat? It’s a little wet from the snow. Do you want me to take off my boots?”
“I can hang your coat in the laundry room so it can dry,” she said, awkwardly reaching for it. “You don’t want to crowd cashmere when it’s wet. I’m sorry she had you trekking through the snow in your Italian shoes. If I’d known—”
“Don’t give it another thought.” He pressed his coat into her hand and held her eyes again. “Please.”
She fought the urge to gulp under the intensity of his magnetic green gaze. “Again, thank you for the basket. I’ll take your coat and then meet you back in the kitchen if you want to bring it. It’s the second door down the hall past the dining room.”
In the laundry room, she leaned against the door, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. His scent wrapped around her, the notes of vetiver and clove making her body tighten with need. Goodness, how was she supposed to be professional when she wanted him? She’d thought this part of her was dead. Knowing she could feel this way about a man was enlivening.
He’d even brought her a present—something she loved. When Ben had given her gifts, they’d always been something he’d wanted her to like or something for him: lingerie more on the slutty side in the beginning or a slow cooker for family dinners later on.
How many years had it been since she’d been to Zabar’s with Emily? The twins had only been three, she realized. How she’d loved the gourmet eatery packed with artisan cheeses, breads, and other sundries from around the world.
The gift also confirmed what Emily had told her: despite his playboy reputation, Flynn was one of the nice guys.
Not that it mattered. Flynn was here for business. Her attraction to him was inconvenient, to be sure, but nothing could come of it. Nothing beyond the hope that perhaps her life could one day incorporate something more—the kind of passionate, lasting love she’d once dreamed about. Only it couldn’t be with him, of course. She was a thirty-year-old widow with three girls living on her in-laws’ farm. Who wanted that?
When she entered the kitchen, he was standing in front of the refrigerator studying the mural she and the girls had set up. The Zabar’s basket was sitting on the counter, and her fingers itched to explore it. She would save that for
later, when she was alone, but she spotted chocolate babka, bagels, cinnamon rugelachs, and smoked salmon. Her mouth watered. Goodness, was that a bag of their coffee? She was going to have to parcel those beans out for special occasions when she was in the lab.
“I like the vibe. You have positive sayings all around, from the plaques on the walls to the signs on your refrigerator,” he commented, turning around. “Your girls are lucky to have a mom who’s so interested in helping them shine. Like it says right here.” He tapped the hot pink magnet inscribed with bold black script.
Let your light shine.
Those positive affirmations were for her children, because she believed they were important lessons, but in the beginning, when she’d first come out of hibernation, they’d been for her too.
As she gazed at Flynn’s golden skin, her fingertips almost burning to touch it, she heard another saying in her mind: go after what you want. But it was a wild, errant thought, and she knew she needed to get herself back in line.
Taking a deep breath, she made herself smile. “Helping them shine is one of my happiest roles as a mother. Thank you again for the basket.”
“My pleasure.”
Oh, the way he said that made her face heat. “I made coffee. How do you take it?”
“How strong is it?” he asked, coming closer to her, his presence filling up the room like oxygen in her lungs. “That’s usually my deciding factor.”
“It’s an Italian roast,” she said, crossing to the mugs she’d laid out by the coffee machine to get a little room. Keeping space between them seemed key to getting through this meeting without making a fool of herself. “Valentina brings me some when she visits.”
“Then mostly milk with a drop of coffee,” Flynn said. “My brother lived in Rome for years. It was his favorite way to take his coffee at night, but I like it in the morning. I prefer espressos later on when I need a boost.”
“A lágrima,” she said, wanting to sigh as memories of roasted coffee and Rome’s sophisticated streets flashed through her mind.
“You know Italian coffee?”
“Yes, but it’s been a while. I think I’ll have one too.” She pulled out a pan to heat the milk, careful to keep her back to him. If he saw her now, he’d see the longing on her face.
“Can I help?”
“No, I’ve got it. I thought we could talk in my office in the lab, but maybe we should have the coffee here. Please sit.” She gestured to the maple table in the kitchen nook.
She’d cleaned up the kitchen last night, stuffing the usual clutter on the counters in the kitchen drawers and scrubbing the countertops until they sparkled. She’d had to scrub the table again this morning after Iris spilled maple syrup, but that was kids for you. She’d drawn the line at disassembling their treasures on the refrigerator. She was the mom of three young girls in addition to being the owner of Bilberry & Co. There was no reason to downplay that.
Today everything from the microwave to the glass in the cabinets sparkled, she was proud to see. Rather like she felt inside, having a sophisticated, handsome man come to visit her about business.
“Valentina had only good things to say about you,” she said, stirring the milk until it heated. “If I slip and call her Emily, it’s only because that’s how I knew her growing up.”
As she poured the milk in the mugs and added a teardrop of coffee, she found herself wondering just how well he and Emily knew each other. All her friend had told her was that they’d hung out from time to time after meeting at a fashion show in Milan. Since Annie had looked up Flynn Merriam in anticipation of this meeting, she knew he often dated international models. Of course, she knew Emily wasn’t serious about him. Her best friend would have mentioned it.
But was he someone Emily had taken as a lover?
Oh, what was she thinking? She wasn’t going to make a move on him regardless.
“I didn’t know her real name was Emily,” Flynn said, taking the coffee she handed him. “So you two grew up together. I’d wondered if you’d met because of your products.”
She pulled out her chair, and suddenly Flynn was standing up and helping her into it. The gallantry was as foreign to her as the Greek alphabet. “Thank you. Emily doesn’t talk about her old life much. She’s carved out a new identity. The most successful international models usually do.”
“And she’s certainly successful,” Flynn remarked. “If you two grew up together, now I understand why she’s so down-to-earth. Is she from here too?”
Annie cleared her throat. “I don’t know whether to say. Perhaps we should talk about why you’re here. You mentioned wanting five thousand holiday baskets when you called. I’m so sorry I thought you were Steven and hung up. As you might have guessed, I’m not used to orders of that volume.”
He eyed her as he sipped his lágrima.
God, he really was gorgeous. Having trained as a makeup artist, she could catalogue defining features on a dime, and he had several: square jaw, strong cheekbones, and an angular brow line. He also had that elusive turn-the-head factor. If he hadn’t been from a business empire, he could have catwalked for houses like Gucci or Dolce & Gabbana. He wore clothes like some people drove race cars, with an unmatched careless artistry someone like her could never pull off.
She’d done her best to look fashionable for their meeting, but there was no concealing her curves. In other times, she would have been adored for being Rubenesque. In these times, she was just a slightly chubby mother of three girls.
“I have so many questions about you,” he finally said, never taking his gaze off her. “But let’s start with why I’m here. I do want to order some holiday gift baskets for our senior Merriam executives. Did you think it was a joke because this Steven fellow likes pranking you, or because you can’t put together that many baskets?”
She thought about Emily’s friend, Steven. He was another model whom Emily had introduced her to over FaceTime. He liked to tease her, but according to him, it was only because he thought she was “too cute for words” living on a farm in Ohio. Still, she appreciated how much he adored her company, plus the fact that he’d offered to tell everyone about the product she’d tailored for his signature shiny, sleek caramel hair. When she was ready, of course.
“A little of both, I’m afraid,” she said, setting her mug down. “I wish I could fulfill an order of that size.”
In truth, her business was mostly her alone. When the orders were too large for her to fulfill herself, she recruited two teenagers who sometimes babysat for the girls to help with shipping labels and post office runs.
“Still, I’m glad you liked the products.”
“I love them,” he said, also setting his coffee aside and folding his hands on the table. “We’ll get back to how much in a minute. What would it take to get you to fulfill an order like that, for five thousand one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar baskets? Extra staff? I’m an expert at coming up with solutions—albeit mostly tech ones—to handle workflow and expansion constraints.”
She hadn’t expected this approach even though she’d known he couldn’t be just a pretty face. Emily didn’t put Annie in touch with just anyone. “I wish it were only a matter of technology and staff solutions, Flynn. I make every batch myself. I’ve hired short-term help for handling the orders, labeling the products, and shipping if needed, but all quality control is in my hands.”
“Understandable,” he said, nodding. “What if you could train a few quick studies on some of the easier products? I could provide the help. I’m spitballing here because I don’t know if any of your products are easy to make. Forgive me if I’m insulting your craft. I only know hair and skincare products from the marketing side.”
She tapped her upper lip, thinking. “That would mean sharing my formulas with people I don’t know. They’re proprietary.”
“As they should be. The extra help could sign a nondisclosure agreement. Would that suffice?”
“I suppose. My lawyer could draft something. No
w, as far as the products go, the serums are easy to blend. They’re largely a mixture of oils and extracts. I suppose the shampoo would be simple too. A few surfactants blended with this and that. The body butter is also pretty easy.”
He nodded, and she could feel him making mental notes.
“Lotion, soap, and conditioner—not so much. Soap would be out anyway, now that I think about it, because every batch takes four to six weeks to cure. I have inventory, but nowhere near enough to fill an order like that.” She had about two hundred bars of soap according to her last count.
“Forget the soap then,” he said, “although I really liked the thought of including that goat milk one on the website.”
“I’ll be sure to include a bar or two in your gift basket before you go,” she said, giving him a conspiratorial wink. “Seems only right since you brought me one.”
His green eyes fired ever so sexily, and she realized she hadn’t been in the presence of a man this good-looking or compelling since her previous life, the one she’d left behind.
“Thank you! I won’t risk telling my brother I got one. Quinn said some of your products reminded him of London. He used to live there, and I think he misses it some. Something about them smelling like the halls of power.”
She blinked at the surprising description, and her heart warmed as her mind conjured the smell of London, forever imprinted in her memory. “That’s a wonderful way to describe how London smells. Well, the parts that smell good at least. It was what I was going for with that line.”
“Originally we thought your company might be British because of the name,” he said, kicking back in his chair.
“I was going for that, too, to be honest,” she said, shrugging. “I wanted timeless elegance, and the Brits have it in spades, in my humble opinion. It’s one of the things I loved about London.”
