Head Over Heels for the Boss (Donovan Brothers)

by Susan Meier

  Oh, crap. Maybe that was why she was having such a hard time dealing with him.

  He wasn’t the kind of man to have long-term relationships with women, but he also wasn’t the kind of guy who deliberately hurt women. He really hadn’t meant to hurt her. But all the circumstances around that prom invitation had been weird. He hadn’t been himself…

  She looked away. “So we’re both warned.” She set the fifth bouquet on the shelf by the door with the other four. “Since you’re here, how about going with me to deliver these?”

  Needing more time to figure out how to fix this, he glanced at a corkboard and saw a set of keys under a label that read Delivery Van Keys. He snatched them off the hook. “I drive.”

  “That’s right. You think I’m a bad driver.”

  “My insurance company thinks you’re a bad driver. And when my insurance provider talks, I listen. Let’s go.”

  “Now who’s sassy?”

  Her answer made him laugh, but he caught himself. If her hesitancy around him had anything to do with that old prom invitation, this was not a laughing matter. They’d have to have a conversation about it eventually, and it would be awkward for both of them.

  Damn.

  Devon’s laughter hit Isabelle like a punch in the heart. She hadn’t seen him laugh since before he left for the Marines. He hadn’t even laughed at his brothers’ weddings. The pleasure of it was nearly unbearable. Then serious Devon had returned, confusing her. So she pointed at the arrangements they needed to deliver. “We’d better get going.”

  They loaded the flowers into the van and, though it felt odd, she slid onto the passenger’s seat while he got behind the wheel.

  “So all of these go to McDermott’s?”

  “Yes.” With the pleasure of his laughter still shivering through her bloodstream, and the confusion of him becoming so serious now, she wasn’t really sure of what to say, how to handle this. So they drove down the street in silence.

  When they pulled up to the back door of McDermott’s Funeral Home, Barbara Beth Rush, proprietor, opened the steel double doors. Tall and blonde, with big hair and an even bigger smile, she laughed at Devon who carried in a huge arrangement, a glorious bouquet of lilies and roses that had to weigh a hundred pounds.

  “What are you doing playing delivery boy…and look at you!” She gasped. “You’re in jeans. Where’s your suit?” She turned to Isabelle. “What have you done to the real Devon?”

  A weird feeling cartwheeled through Isabelle as normally overly playful Barbara Beth connected her and Devon as casually as if they belonged together.

  “It wasn’t me. He changed before he came to the flower shop to check on me.”

  Barbara Beth turned to Devon. “You checked up on her?”

  “I bought the florist from her parents,” he said from behind the big red and white bouquet. “Can we get this to where it needs to go? It’s heavy.”

  Barbara Beth scurried to open a second door. “Sure. Sorry. I was just so flabbergasted to see you in jeans that it threw me.”

  “I know your boss,” Devon said, again speaking through the roses and lilies as Barbara Beth directed him through the door. “I can have a word with her about your behavior.”

  “Are you kidding? Ellie’s a peach. She’d never fire me. Or yell at me.” She peeked at Isabelle. “Remember that, Izzy. Good bosses don’t yell.”

  Isabelle smiled. But Devon snorted. “Don’t put ideas in her head. She already bosses me around.”

  Barbara Beth’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  Devon set the bouquet on the floor. Isabelle walked her arrangement over and set it down beside his. “Go get the mums and daisies.” She pressed a finger to her lips, thinking. “I have a really great idea for how to position these so they’re pretty.”

  Devon tapped Barbara Beth’s arm. “See? She bosses me.”

  He left, and Barbara Beth turned to Isabelle. “How the hell did you get him in jeans?”

  Focused on the flowers, Isabelle shrugged. “I told you. When he arrived at Buds and Blossoms he was in jeans.”

  “But he’s helping you?”

  “I need help.”

  “Izzy, you’re not getting what I’m telling you.”

  She glanced over at Barbara Beth. “What are you telling me?”

  “The man never does anything outside his schedule.” She bumped her hip against Isabelle’s. “I think he likes you.” With that, she turned and headed toward the door. “And I’m going to leave the two of you alone to let nature take its course.”

  Isabelle stared at her retreating back. Let nature take its course? What was Barbara Beth telling her?

  Devon returned with the daisy arrangement. He set it on the floor in front of her. “You go ahead and keep staring at those and I’ll go back to the van and get the rest of the arrangements.”

  She turned to look at him. “Stop whining—”

  His mouth opened to say something, but when their gazes met, he stopped. He might not “like” her, but something about their relationship confused him. And whatever it was, it caused him to hold back what he’d wanted to say.

  Devon stepped away from her. One step. Then two. “Like I said. I’ll go get the rest.” He pivoted and was out of the room before she could blink.

  She stared at the empty space until he returned, not sure what was happening between them. But something was happening. She could almost feel them getting to know each other. Or maybe what she was feeling was how natural it was for them to be together? Maybe that’s what Barbara Beth had been hinting at? It didn’t matter, though, if he didn’t like the feeling. And from the way he’d just run out of the room, she was pretty sure he didn’t like it.

  He set two arrangements in front of her, then left to get the final bouquet. When he returned, he set it at her feet. “I don’t understand why this is so complicated.”

  Not sure if he was talking about them, about dealing with each other, or the flowers, she peeked up at him. “Just trying to make them pretty.”

  “You really think anyone notices?”

  When it came to crushes and relationships in Harmony Hills, everybody noticed everything. And that was why her being attracted to him was so wrong.

  “Yes. They notice.”

  She turned away and positioned the flowers. When she was satisfied, she motioned to the door through which they’d entered. They left, neither speaking, and didn’t talk on the short drive back to Buds and Blossoms.

  He parked the van and got out. “So now what?”

  “What do you mean, now what?”

  “Did you already close for the night or do we have to go back in?”

  “I have to go back in to clean up the prep room.”

  He tossed the keys in the air. “Okay. I’ll help. That way you’ll get home at a decent hour.”

  Great. Not only was he behaving oddly around her, but now he didn’t think she could do her job.

  They entered Buds and Blossoms through the back door. She swept up the stems, leaves, and old flowers. He gathered the cardboard boxes and carried them to the Dumpster.

  “I’m guessing you’ll get more of these tomorrow.”

  “More like Friday for Saturday’s wedding.”

  He grimaced.

  “Don’t worry, you don’t have to help.”

  “The Benjamin Brats are available by then?”

  She nodded.

  He turned away. “That’s good.” He paused for a second, took a long breath, and casually said, “You know, I think maybe we might want to talk about that night you asked me to the prom.”

  Her breathing stopped, then her heart. Hoping she’d heard wrong, she said, “What?”

  He faced her. “Okay. Look. I know you only asked me to your prom to save face about Jimmy breaking up with you.”

  She wished the earth would swallow her whole.

  “But I didn’t turn you down in a very nice way.” He shook his head. “I had just gotten home. And, let’s face it, I
was twenty-seven. No twenty-seven-year-old guy wants to go to a prom. But I should have been kinder.”

  The part of her that was embarrassed that he remembered was struck dumb that he’d apologized. And not weirdly. Sweetly.

  “That’s—” She cleared her throat, not at all sure what to say. “That’s actually very nice of you.” She half smiled. “I did understand you were just getting home.” She carefully glanced over at him. His serious dark eyes held hers. “And I was trying to save face.” That and trying to get a date with the most gorgeous man she knew. But there was no reason to mention that.

  “So we’re good?”

  She took a long breath, surprised at how much his apology had meant to her. “We’re good.”

  He smiled. “Thanks.”

  Oh, man. Did he have to say thanks? The sweetness of his apology coupled with the sincerity swelled her heart so much she thought it might explode. She didn’t just like the guy she dreamed him to be. The real Devon Donovan was a hundred times nicer.

  They finished cleanup. He made sure she got to her car safely, even though she’d been walking the alley behind Buds and Blossoms for decades.

  She pressed the button to unlock her car door, but before she could open it, he did it for her.

  First an apology. Now a perfect gentleman. If he didn’t stop being so sweet, she was absolutely going to drool on him. She smiled and said, “Thanks.”

  “For helping you?” He glanced away then looked at her again. “I like to take care of my own.”

  The way he said “my own” sent an arrow to her heart. As if Cupid himself had been waiting for the moment, her crush morphed again. She really was talking to Devon Donovan. He really was standing by her car door with her. She really did like him. The real him. Not the guy she’d made up in her imagination.

  He quietly said, “Good night.”

  In the silence of the dark alley, her heart thundered. Their hands were millimeters apart on the car door. Six inches separated their bodies. He was tall enough that she had to look up and he had to look down, and that somehow that put their faces into a proximity that made her heart beat even harder.

  But he pulled away. He tapped her Hyundai fender twice as he took two steps backward. “See you tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

  Then he turned and walked to his Porsche and Isabelle slid into her car. She started it, and, waiting for it to warm up, she pulled out her cell phone and called Piper.

  “You know how we had that little chat this morning about me working for Devon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Call Ellie and meet me at Petie’s Pub. I need some advice.”

  “We gave you advice.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s a new wrinkle.” She sucked in a breath and decided to just go for it. “I like him. I always have.”

  “Like him?”

  “As in I have a crush on him the size of Ohio and I’d like a shot with him.”

  Piper laughed. “No kidding.”

  “He helped me deliver flowers this evening and I made him laugh.”

  “You made him laugh? Devon actually laughed with you?”

  “Yes. A couple of times.”

  “Ellie and I will be at Petie’s in ten minutes.”

  After Isabelle explained her day with Devon, Ellie sat back with a sigh. “He isn’t going to want this.”

  The jukebox played a sad country song, but wasn’t so loud that anyone had to shout to be heard. Wednesdays were Jenny Forsythe’s night to serve drinks and she easily handled the crowd of rowdy guys sitting at the bar, as well as the two guys playing pool.

  Piper patted Isabelle’s hand. “She’s right. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make a move. He needs this.”

  Ellie shook her head. “Yeah, but he’s been taking care of the family so long that I think he sees anything out of the realm of that job as being frivolous.”

  The door of Petie’s Pub opened and Barbara Beth rushed in. She scrambled over to the table and sat by Ellie. “What did I miss?”

  “Belle likes Devon.”

  Not at all fazed by the change of name, Barbara Beth said, “I knew it.”

  “Yeah, well, trying to put the moves on somebody I’m working with isn’t going to be easy.”

  Barbara Beth laughed. “Or maybe all that time together will make it easier.”

  “I feel like I need a plan.”

  Piper shook her head. “You can’t have a plan. You either feel something for each other or you don’t.”

  Ellie agreed. “That’s true.”

  Isabelle sighed. “Okay, how about this? I think I need a makeover.”

  Former beautician Barbara Beth reached across the table and caught a lock of Isabelle’s long, straight red hair. “You could use a trim.”

  “I think I’d like a whole new look.”

  Ellie’s eyes sparkled. “Really?”

  Isabelle took a long, steadying breath. “Yes.”

  Barbara Beth clapped her hands together with glee. “This is going to be so much fun.”

  Chapter Four

  When Devon heard the sound of Izzy moving around in the outer office the next day, he looked up to say good morning, but the words died in his throat.

  Her long straight hair had been cut in a smooth shoulder-length style that made her look like a woman, rather than a cross between a teenager and a migrant farm worker. So did the stylish top and skirt…really nice fitting skirt that showed off a nearly perfect behind.

  She strolled into his office. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  He rose from the chair behind his desk. “Izzy…Belle…” The name change sank in a little more, cementing in his brain. She wasn’t Izzy anymore. He cleared his throat. “Wow.”

  She lifted the edge of her blunt-cut red hair, as her cheeks turned pink. “It’s drastic, isn’t it?”

  “It’s…” Fantastic. Sexy. Hot… “You look older.” He winced. “I hope that wasn’t an insult.”

  She laughed. “It isn’t.” She casually sat on the chair across from his desk, taking control of the situation, and he slowly returned to his seat, glad one of them was thinking clearly.

  “I looked like a college student the whole way through grad school and the past years working for my parents.”

  She smiled across the desk at him.

  His heart thumped. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

  “It just felt like the right time for my wardrobe to catch up to my age.”

  “You look great. Very professional.” Grateful for the reminder that they were at work and he was her boss, he shifted on his seat. “And speaking of professional, there’s no time like the present to get to work.” He didn’t mean to sound like an old man. Especially since, in Belle’s presence, he didn’t want to be old. Or young. He had no idea what he wanted to feel, but it wasn’t old.

  He cleared his throat. “So how long can you work today?”

  “The funeral is under control, but the wedding’s in two days. So I need all afternoon, tonight, and tomorrow to prepare.” She smiled slightly. “I’m assuming we don’t work on Saturdays.”

  “No. No. Of course not.” She was nothing but professional, but inside he was a bundle of confusion. Her looks had caught up with her age. Her age had caught up to the point where it didn’t matter that she was in her twenties and he was in his thirties. They’d hit that place where people were just adults. She was pretty and happy and smart and everything inside him shouted that he should be allowed to ask her out.

  Which totally confused him. Since when did he have thoughts like this about a co-worker? No. Scratch that. Since when did he have thoughts like this about somebody who worked for him?

  “I noticed the stack of requests for investment money from yesterday is still on your desk,” he said.

  “I think it’s going to take more than two hours to wade through.”

  “Yes. It is.” He leaned forward and put his forearms on the desk. “So why don�
��t you jump into that, while I make a few phone calls this morning.” He tried a professional smile.

  It worked. She rose from her chair.

  “Since I’ll be busy, just poke your head in and let me know when you’re leaving.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned and walked out to her desk. Devon grabbed his collar and loosened it. The room was hot. His usual business demeanor seemed to have deserted him. But, luckily, there was work to do.

  As he reached for his phone, she sat at the desk, turned on the computer, and lifted the first request for investment money from the big stack by her phone.

  He squinted, looking across his office at her. He hadn’t noticed her fingernails the day before, but today they were a shade of pink that matched the pretty top she had on. Which intrigued him. Painting nails was a girlie thing tomboy Izzy wouldn’t have done. But, then again, everything about the way she looked today messed with his mind. Especially the way his thoughts jumped to how those pretty long nails would feel scraping down his naked back.

  Completely oblivious, Izzy put her elbow on her desk and her chin on her closed fist, totally engrossed in her reading.

  He shook his head. Good grief. He was acting like a fool. No. Not just a fool. A sex-starved fool. And this wasn’t him. He was a buttoned-down, hard worker, who took his responsibilities seriously. Sure, he had his adventures with women, but none of them on the job.

  Pretty or not. Sexy or not. Interesting in a way that had him sitting up and taking notice or not… She was still an employee.

  He reached for his phone and hit the speed dial number for Elias Fornwalt.

  Isabelle read for two straight hours. Devon’s reaction had been about what Barbara Beth had predicted. He’d be polite. Say all the right things. And then stare at her while he tried to get his bearings.

  Barbara Beth had also told her not to be in a hurry. To let things happen. She hadn’t tried to push him. She hadn’t put them in close proximity or made up questions so she could go into his office, stand beside his chair, and bend close so he could smell her perfume. She’d been a good girl.

  But the time she could afford to spend at the office today was up. She didn’t just have to get to Buds and Blossoms. She had to go home first and change into something suitable for making flower arrangements.