by Jill Shalvis
His gaze swept over her, noting the smooth, creamy skin that showed just a hint of cleavage, the way the dress hugged her feminine form to her hips then flared to flirt around her knees, the sexy peep-toe silver heels, the red-polished toes that matched her dress. Damn, even her feet were beautiful. And those heels made her legs look endless. He raised his gaze back to hers, and noted her looking him over. He hoped his dark gray dress pants and white dress shirt met with her approval because she sure as hell met with his.
He wanted to add that she looked amazing. Gorgeous. Classy. Incredible. Instead he could only repeat, “Wow.”
Color rushed into her cheeks. “Thanks.” Her gaze wandered over him again and her lips twitched. “What happened to your high-water pants?”
“I retired them. Apparently I need to look for something by Armani.”
He stepped behind her to hold her chair, and found himself less than a foot away from her bare shoulders. The expanse of smooth, satiny skin beckoned his fingers like a siren’s call and he had to grasp the back of the chair to keep from touching her. The subtle scent of flowers wafted toward him and he couldn’t keep from leaning a bit closer to catch the elusive fragrance. She smelled incredible. Like a garden in the sunshine.
She shot him a half smile over her shoulder, murmured, “Thank you,” then gracefully sat. After pushing in her chair, he resettled himself in the seat opposite her. And wondered how he was going to make it through the meal without giving in to the overwhelming urge to touch her. The craving to kiss her. How the hell was he even going to make conversation with her when all he could do was stare? She’d done something to her eyes…applied some sort of smoky makeup that reeled him in like a fish on a hook. Made it impossible to look away from her.
“For you,” she said. He managed to drag his gaze from hers and saw that she held out a single red rose. “As the Twelve Steamy Nights of Christmas flyer promised, if you come into Blooming Pails the day you use your gift card, you receive a rose. Since you came in-several times-I thought it only fair that you get yours.”
He reached for the bloom, taking the opportunity to brush his fingers against hers. An electric tingle rushed up his arm. One that kept on going and settled in his groin. She stilled at the contact and he wondered if she felt this same…whatever the hell it was…that he did.
“No woman has ever given me a flower before.”
“How many flower-shop owners have you taken to dinner?”
“You’re the first.”
She flashed a smile. “That could be why.”
“I have something for you, too,” he said, reaching down for the small silver-and-green gift bag he’d set by his feet.
She frowned when he placed the bag on the table in front of her. “That’s a…gift.”
“Well, ’tis the season. You gave me one.”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I brought you the flower you were entitled to.”
“Then don’t consider this a gift. Consider it a favor.”
Still frowning, she peeked in the bag. Then looked at him over its bright foil edge. “The gift card for the thong at Mimi’s Intimate Apparel?”
He nodded. “Seriously, you’d be doing me a huge favor by taking it off my hands. It’s not like I can wear it.”
“There must be fifty other women you could give it to.”
“Actually, no. And even if there were, I want you to have it. Since it came off the tree in your store, it’s only fitting it be yours.”
She said nothing for several seconds and he could almost see her internal debate as to whether she should accept the present. Finally she said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He shot her a wink. “I hope you’ll think of me when you wear it.”
Another crimson blush suffused her cheeks and he nearly groaned. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen a female over the age of fourteen blush, and came up blank. Silence swelled between them and he frantically searched his mind for something to say. Something other than I want to kiss you so badly I can hardly think straight. He was saved when the waiter appeared with their menus and the wine list.
“Do you prefer red or white?” Brad asked her. “Or maybe champagne?”
“Chardonnay, please.”
He consulted the list and ordered a bottle. After the waiter departed, Brad opened his menu, but couldn’t concentrate on it since he was so busy looking at her. After a quick perusal of her menu, she closed it and set it aside. He gave up and did the same. Before he could think up anything brilliant to say, the waiter reappeared with their wine. After he’d poured them each a glass, he turned to Toni to take her order. Brad’s gaze zeroed in on her glossy lips, watching her form each word, imagining that gorgeous mouth pressed against his.
“And for you, sir?” the waiter asked, turning toward him.
“The same for me,” Brad said, unable to look away from Toni. He had no idea what she’d ordered, but since he pretty much liked everything except broccoli, it didn’t really matter. Hell, he’d even eat broccoli if that’s what she’d ordered. As far as he was concerned, this meal definitely fell into the category of “it doesn’t matter what you’re eating, it’s who you’re eating with.”
After the waiter left, he picked up his wineglass and held it aloft. “To…” He hesitated, unwilling to say what he really wanted to for fear of scaring her off. Us. Beginnings. An incredible night.
“An enjoyable evening,” he finished.
She inclined her head and touched the rim of her glass to his. After taking a sip, he set down his drink and said, “So, tell me why you don’t like firefighters.”
She raised her brows. “Boy, you don’t waste any time.”
“If this is the only date I’m going to get, I don’t have any time to waste.”
“This isn’t a date,” she reminded him. “It’s just-to use your words-one little dinner.”
Not if I can help it. If he had his way, this one little dinner was going to turn into one hot night followed by one hot morning. Then repeat same. Until neither of them could move and this fire she had lit in him was put out.
Obviously a plan best not put on the table right now.
“Okay,” he agreed. “So since this is the one little dinner I’m going to get, tell me why you don’t like firefighters.” He studied her for several seconds then guessed, “Bad breakup?”
“I suppose you could describe it like that, but not in the way you’re suggesting. It’s nothing to do with a boyfriend.” She drew a deep breath, then with her gaze steady on his, said, “I used to be a firefighter.”
Brad couldn’t hide his surprise. “Used to be? What happened? Were you injured?”
“Not physically, although it came close. You sure you want to hear this?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right. During college I dated a firefighter-nothing serious, but it whetted my interest, and even after the guy was gone, the interest in a firefighting career remained. I enrolled in fire school and became certified as a paramedic. Four years ago, I was hired by a station in Woodton, a small city about one hundred miles east of Santa Barbara, which is where I’m from. It was my first experience living away from home, and I thought everything was going to be perfect.”
She paused to take a sip of wine and he sat back, waiting for her to continue. “But I take it everything wasn’t perfect,” he said.
“Everything was a disaster. I was the first woman to be hired at that station. I think the only reason I was is because the chief felt pressured to break that gender barrier. Unfortunately, almost without exception, the men I worked with resented having a woman there. I was the interloper in the all-boys’ club and they let me know from day one that they weren’t going to make it easy on me.”
Brad nodded. As much as he disagreed with that mentality, he knew it existed. “They made your life difficult.”
She made a humorless sound. “Difficult would have been a blessing. It was hell. I have three brothers so
God knows I can take teasing, practical jokes and potty humor. But this was…mean. Even vicious. The guys who weren’t actively harassing me just turned a blind eye to what was going on. In spite of passing every physical and written test with flying colors, none of them believed that a woman who ‘looked like me’-” she made air quotes around the words “-could do the job. The stress was incredible, but I was determined not to quit. The abuse got so bad I finally filed a sexual-harassment suit, figuring things couldn’t get much worse. I was wrong.”
She looked away from him and ran her finger around the base of her wineglass. Sympathy for her plight, the unfairness of it, filled him, and unable to keep from doing so, he reached out and touched her hand. Her skin was warm and silky and a tingle sizzled up his arm. “What happened?”
“It got to the point where I actually feared for my life because I didn’t trust any of them to have my back.” Her eyes bored into his. “You know that your life depends on your partners. I didn’t have any. It was a small station and we all needed each other, but I couldn’t depend on them. Not one of them. I knew that with every fire, every rescue, my life was endangered. I accepted that risk. But I wasn’t willing to accept that I could be injured or even die because my coworkers wouldn’t have my back. So I quit.”
Outrage on her behalf joined sympathy and he squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Toni. How long did you tough it out?”
She slipped her fingers from his and again picked up her wineglass. Her hand shook slightly. Obviously the memories still distressed her. “A year and a half.”
He nodded, impressed. “I give you a lot of credit for hanging in that long.”
She looked at him over the rim of her glass. “You don’t think I’m a quitter?”
“Hell, no. Given the impossible circumstances, I think you did the right thing. What became of your sexual-harassment suit?”
“I dropped it. Once I quit, I didn’t want anything to do with any of it. I packed up my things and moved back home to Santa Barbara.”
“And that’s why you don’t like firefighters,” he murmured. “Now I get it. But, Toni, you know we’re not all like that. If I’d been at that station, I would have had your back.”
She shot him a clearly skeptical look. “You wouldn’t have gone along with the crowd?”
Her question hit him like a slap. “No. Not my style. Never has been.” He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on hers. “As much as I’m sympathetic to what happened to you-and believe me, I think it sucks-you’re making assumptions about me based on the bad behavior of people I don’t even know. I’ve been a firefighter for seven years and during that time I’ve worked with some great people and some real jerks. Here’s a news flash-there are great people and real jerks in every profession.” He cocked a single brow. “Probably even in the flower business.”
She blinked. Then narrowed her eyes and studied him for a long moment. He strongly sensed he was about to pass or fail some test he hadn’t studied for, so he remained silent under her regard and wished he knew what she was thinking. Finally, a sheepish expression crossed her face. “You’re right, of course. I don’t know you. You might be a prince among men-”
“My mother will tell you I am,” he broke in.
“No doubt. But it’s her job to think so. My mother would say the same about my three brothers and all of them are pains in the butt.”
“And as their sister, it’s your job to think so.”
“Touché,” she said with a quick laugh, then sobered. “I…I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m afraid that given my experiences, I cast a dubious eye on everyone in your profession.”
“Understandable-I’d feel the same way. But I’m not one of those guys. So I’m asking you not to feel that way about me. At least until you get to know me better. Then if you think I’m an asshole, well, okay.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Deal?”
Her gaze shifted down to his hand then back to his face. He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. Could tell that she was fighting her desire to stay away from anything that had to do with firefighters, and what he hoped was desire for him. Or at least a desire to give him a chance.
Finally she extended her hand. “Deal.”
His fingers wrapped around hers and a combination of relief and anticipation raced through him. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips against the back of her fingers. Her breath caught slightly at the gesture-definitely a good sign.
“I’ll have you know it took some effort for me to put aside my prejudices and make that deal,” he said. “I’ve had some very difficult dealings with florists. Most recently today.”
She nodded. “I don’t doubt it. Florists can be notoriously hard to deal with.”
“Lucky for me I like a challenge.”
Encouraged by the fact that she didn’t pull her hand away, he lightly brushed his fingers against hers, exploring their softness. Her hands were small but capable-looking, which they’d have to be for her to have passed the grueling firefighter tests. Clearly, on top of having an incredible shape, she was in good physical condition.
“So, continue your story,” he urged, scooting closer. He snagged her other hand and slowly played with her fingers. “How did you get from returning home to Santa Barbara to owning a flower shop fifty miles away in Santa Rey?”
“My family owns the largest nursery in Santa Barbara, so I grew up learning the business.”
Damn, she had the softest hands he’d ever touched. He slowly traced the length of each of her fingers with his fingertips. “You didn’t want to work at your family’s place?”
“I did. But after a few years I wanted to be my own boss. Create something that was mine. Plus, I needed to put some distance between myself and my loving but smothering family.” She looked down at their touching hands then back at him. “That’s, um, really distracting.”
He brushed the pad of his thumb over the velvety skin of her inner wrist. “Distracting in a good way?”
“Distracting in an I-can’t-remember-what-we-were-talking-about way.”
“That’s a good way. You were telling me how much you like me.”
Amusement glittered in her eyes. “Was I?”
“Yup. And you were about to tell me how it’s possible that a gorgeous, intelligent woman like you isn’t taken.”
“What makes you think I’m intelligent?”
“I’m a very good judge of character.” He smiled. “Besides, the fact that you accepted my invitation proves it.”
She rolled her eyes, but then smiled. “You know I didn’t want to.”
He turned one of her hands over and lightly traced the lines on her palm. “Yeah, I got that. I’m hoping you’re not sorry.”
“Not yet. But the night’s still young.” Her eyes seemed to darken. “That feels really…hmm…nice.”
The smoky tone of her voice had him shifting in his chair. Damn. Just her voice turned him on. What would happen if she touched him? Stupid question. He knew damn well what would happen. He’d go up in flames.
She slowly spread her fingers wider, a gesture that shouldn’t have struck him as sexy as it did. But then, he found everything about her sexy and had since minute one.
“So, why aren’t you taken?” he asked, continuing to caress her fingers.
“Actually, I am-by my business. It requires all my time and attention. Now, and for the foreseeable future.”
Obviously a not-very-subtle warning that she didn’t have time for him. A warning he was determined to ignore, and convince her to ignore, as well. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. How is it possible that an intelligent woman who looks like you, who smells as good as you do, whose skin is as soft as yours, doesn’t have a boyfriend?”
“After I discovered my last boyfriend required a dictionary, I gave him the heave-ho and haven’t felt inclined to replace him.”
“Dictionary?”
“Yes. He didn’t know the definition of some pretty basic words
. Like honesty. And integrity.” She leaned a bit closer and lowered her voice as if imparting a great secret. “He thought monogamy was a type of wood.”
Brad could only shake his head. “What kind of idiot would cheat on you?”
She flashed him a smile, one which raised his temperature several degrees. “Compliment noted-thank you.”
“Compliment sincerely given-you’re welcome. How long ago since you heaved him?”
“Six months. What about you? How is it possible that an intelligent man who looks like you doesn’t have a girlfriend?”
“Sadly, my last girlfriend couldn’t even spell monogamy, let alone mistake it for a type of wood. Like you, I gave her the heave-ho and haven’t felt inclined to replace her.”
“Not to repeat your words verbatim, but what kind of idiot would cheat on you?”
“Not to repeat your words verbatim, but compliment noted-thank you. I’m lucky I came out of it as unscathed as I did. I wasn’t heartbroken. Just royally pissed off. I’d considered the guy a friend.”
She winced. “Ouch. At least my dirtbag ex didn’t cheat with anyone I knew…” Her words trailed off and her gaze dipped to the table where he was lightly massaging her fingers, one at a time.
“That feels…ahhhh…incredible, especially after putting together dozens of arrangements today.” When she looked at him again, her eyes were half-closed. She made a low, sexy sound of approval that had him shifting against the swelling going on behind his pants’ zipper.
“So why haven’t you replaced your girlfriend?” she asked. “Obviously you don’t lack opportunity. Firefighters attract women like bees to honey, and this town and Ocean Harbor Beach are both littered with young, gorgeous women, who wear bikinis most of the time. You can’t walk two feet without bumping into a dozen of them.”
“Exactly. And after a while, they became…interchangeable. They can’t seem to talk about anything other than clothes, their drama-filled lives, their girlfriends and former boyfriends and celebrities. I think the operative word you used is young. When I was in my twenties, that was fine, but since hitting thirty…my tastes have changed. So I guess it’s actually more accurate to say that I hadn’t met anyone in a long time who really interested me.” He lifted her hand and with his gaze steady on hers, pressed a kiss against the warm palm he’d been caressing. “Until three months ago. When I walked into Blooming Pails.”
