Head Over Heels for the Boss (Donovan Brothers)

by Susan Meier

  He shoved away from the desk. “Okay, you think about it.”

  “No.” Disappointment skittered through her. Though he really had told her at the wedding that he was an affair kind of guy, that hardly seemed like reason enough to give up a business opportunity. She wasn’t so stupid as to think he should immediately ask her to marry him, but she’d hoped the time they had together would be a time to get to know each other, consider things. But if he was this set in his ways, then this was a no-brainer. She rose and headed to her office to work.

  His laugh followed her out the door. “I’m very persistent.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Like a dog with a bone.”

  “Don’t make lewd comments.”

  He laughed again, but the silence from his office told Isabelle he went back to work.

  She opened the file she’d been reading the day before, but remembering Buds and Blossoms had another wedding on Saturday, she flipped the page over in her notebook and began a to-do list. Seeing that Devon was deep in thought and technically she was working for him when she did flower shop business, she placed a few calls ordering flowers and checking up on the Benjamin Brats. At ten, Devon told her he had a conference call and closed his door. She rose from her desk and got a cup of coffee. At noon, she told him she needed to go to the flower shop, but would be back and, true to her word, she returned a little after one.

  The next day fell into a similar comfortable rhythm with both of them working and neither one of them talking about their attraction. Isabelle was glad. Even without any interaction between them, she thought about their kiss at least once an hour. But when days went by without any personal interaction, it started to bug her. Not because she was warming to his idea of an affair. She wondered how a guy could basically proposition her one day and then leave her totally alone the next.

  Had he changed his mind?

  She remembered their kiss, the passion, the heat, and fanned herself. She didn’t think he could change his mind after that…

  So what the hell was he doing, ignoring her?

  At five till five on Friday afternoon, he called her into his office. She took the seat in front of his desk.

  “So…”

  She frowned. “So?”

  “Have you thought about what we talked about?”

  Only every ten minutes. The part of her that had crushed on him for what seemed like forever pouted that the intelligent part of her refused to even consider it.

  “I thought you’d forgotten.”

  He laughed. “Not hardly. What I was doing was showing you we could work together and still…you know…have a relationship. I was showing you I could keep the two separate.”

  Well, wasn’t she the simple girl for not figuring that out on her own. “Oh.” She let it all sink in. “It was a rather easy work week.”

  “I notice you also did some flower shop business from your desk.”

  “I do work for you in both capacities.”

  “I’m not criticizing. I’m noticing that you’re becoming better at time management. That you’re getting accustomed to working in an office. To having a boss.”

  She sat back. One of her biggest concerns about working for him seemed to have solved itself. “Huh. I guess I am.”

  He got up and walked to the front of his desk. “You’re showing signs of having the makings of a very good employee.”

  Though she loved being her own boss, the thought that she was developing a new skill pleased her enormously. “I really am.”

  “And you thought this would be difficult.”

  “It was difficult the first week. It was odd and confusing.”

  “And like a champ you stuck to it and this week you’re a star.”

  “I wouldn’t say star.”

  “Oh, come on, take a compliment.”

  Realizing how normal she felt, she basked in the thought that she really was adjusting. She had a job, worked in an office, wore clothes that didn’t look like they came from a Dumpster. She was becoming the adult Isabelle that she’d always wanted to be.

  She deserved this.

  “Okay. I take the compliment. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He glanced at his watch. “And it’s five-oh-one.”

  “What?”

  He displayed his watch. “Little hand’s on the five. Big hand is on its way to the one. It’s after five.”

  She rose from her seat. “If that’s a hint that I need to go, I’m going.”

  He pushed away from the desk. “I pointed out that it’s after five because as of about a minute ago, I stopped being your boss.”

  “You did?”

  He sighed. “Isabelle, get with the program. From nine to five we work together. After that, all bets are off.” He took a step closer. “And now we’re just ourselves. Two people who are really hot for each other.”

  When his voice dipped, goose bumps rose on her back. “You’re talking about the affair again, aren’t you?”

  “Why not? We’re young. We’re attracted to each other. No, let me correct that. We’re hot for each other.” He smiled. “Aren’t you even a little curious?”

  With him standing this close and memories of their kiss flitting through her brain, hell yes, she was curious. But she didn’t want an affair. She wanted so much more from him. “I can’t risk it.”

  His head began to lower. “Really?”

  His lips met hers.

  And she melted. This kiss was slow and romantic, and maybe sexier for it. His lips brushed hers sweetly, sending heavenly tingles of delight down her spine. She raised her arms and slid them around his neck. He put his hand on the small of her back and edged her closer. Sweet, syrupy delight filled her with warmth that would soon turn into a fire. Her breasts tingled for his touch. Every inch of her yearned to be naked against every inch of him—

  “Yoo-hoo! Anybody back here?”

  LuAnn.

  Again.

  This time Isabelle and Devon broke apart slowly. The volume of LuAnn’s voice told them she might be coming down the hall but she had some distance to go.

  Shaken, barely getting her wits about her, Isabelle said, “This is the second time your mother’s interrupted us. If that isn’t proof we need to back off, I don’t know what is.”

  “We don’t need to back off. We just need to find a place we can be alone.”

  Isabelle marveled at the shine in his eyes, the happy expression on his face. “You’re enjoying this!”

  “Hey, my mom and Bob said sneaking around is fun. I’m just getting into the spirit of things.”

  LuAnn rounded the corner and entered Isabelle’s office. “There you are,” she said as she walked into Devon’s. “I’m so glad you’re here, Izzy. I was thinking a million thoughts about the wedding today, and I realized I have got to get a hitch in my get along.”

  Isabelle said, “I’m sure we have plenty of time,” but LuAnn interrupted her.

  “Did Bob and I not mention that we booked the fire hall for the last week in July?”

  Devon’s eyes bulged. “The last week in July? This July. Six weeks from now?”

  “We’re in our fifties, Devon. Time flies as you get older. We’re done wasting it. Otherwise, we’d still be having fun sneaking around.”

  Devon caught Isabelle’s gaze, as if to ask her if she’d picked up on the having-fun-sneaking-around comment.

  Before she could roll her eyes, her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her skirt pocket, glanced at the caller ID, and said, “It’s my mom. I’d better take it.” She pressed the button to answer the call. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, Izzy.”

  “How’s it going in the golf capital of the world?”

  As she spoke, Devon pulled his mom to the side. “You can’t seriously be getting married in six weeks.”

  LuAnn said, “Devon, I’ve already told you. I’ve been dating this man for two years,” at the same time that Isabelle’s mom said, “I’
m not calling to push you for an answer about the flower shop.”

  Thank God. “Good.”

  “But your dad and I think we found a condo we want to buy.”

  Isabelle covered her left ear with her hand so she couldn’t hear what Devon said to his mother. “No kidding!”

  “The only problem is our house hasn’t sold.”

  “It will.”

  “Yes. But I’m starting to worry.”

  Isabelle’s brow furrowed. “Worry that it won’t sell?”

  “No, worry that somebody’s going to realize the damn thing is empty and break in.”

  “It’s Harmony Hills, Mom. You’re fine.”

  “I don’t think so. That’s why I’m calling. I need a favor.”

  “What would you like me to do?”

  “Could you live there?”

  Isabelle laughed. “No. I have my own place. And your house will be fine.”

  “Could you at least go by at nine, leave your car in the driveway and turn on a bunch of lights so that people see you’re checking in on the place?”

  “Okay. I’ll stop by every other night or so to turn on lights.” She glanced up and noticed Devon looking at her. His mom had her arms crossed on her chest, and she was staring out the window.

  Were they waiting for her to get off the phone to argue?

  Or was he asking for help?

  “Look, Mom, I have to go to the fire hall and deliver centerpieces for the Bingham wedding. How about if I call you tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Will you check on the house before then?”

  “I’ll go tonight. After I deliver the flowers.”

  “Great. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She clicked off the call, and LuAnn faced her with an unexpected smile. “You’re delivering centerpieces tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d love to see them.”

  “I’m leaving now.”

  LuAnn glanced at Devon, then quickly faced Isabelle. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Devon groaned. “I’m not done arguing this out.”

  “Well, I am. I’m fifty-eight years old. I found somebody I want to marry. I am marrying him.”

  With that, she headed out of his office, stormed through Isabelle’s, and up the hall. “Let’s go, Izzy.”

  Isabelle gave Devon a helpless look, but followed his mother. He watched her scramble to her desk, rummage through a drawer for her purse, and race to catch up with his mom.

  His mother wasn’t even waiting a year to get married. Oh, hell, forget about a year. She wasn’t even waiting a couple of months.

  He picked up his cell phone and called Finn. “Round up Cade and get over here. We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “About Mom. Did you know she and Bob are getting married at the end of July?”

  “No.”

  “Just get Cade and come to the house.”

  It didn’t even take twenty minutes for Cade and Finn to arrive. Wearing cargo shorts and flip-flops, Finn dropped to the chair across from Devon’s desk. In jeans and a sleeveless tee, Cade fell to the chair beside him.

  Without preamble Cade said, “So what do you think we need to do?”

  Devon sat back on his chair. “Just a little investigating. There’s no point in arguing with Mom if the man is clean. If Bob has gambling debts or if he’s a felon, then we have every right to be concerned.”

  Finn’s face scrunched. “Can he be a fire chief if he’s a felon?”

  “I don’t know. But a private investigator would find out. If Bob’s clean, we let the chips fall where they may. If he’s not, then we need to have a little chat with Mom.”

  Finn said, “I don’t like it. She’s happy. I don’t think we should interfere.”

  “And what if we find domestic abuse allegations or protection orders from before he moved to Harmony Hills?”

  Cade shifted on his chair. “I’m afraid I have to agree with overprotective Devon on this one.” He rubbed two fingers across his chin. “If Bob had been born and raised here, there wouldn’t be a problem. But he didn’t move here until he was thirty-six. Just because he took over the fire department at forty doesn’t mean he’s all around good.”

  Finn rose. “Okay. Fine. If you guys think hiring a PI is the right thing to do, I’m on board.” He turned to leave, but stopped suddenly. “So how’s it going with Izzy?”

  “Fine,” Devon said, shoving down the surge of desire that raced through him. The woman could kiss. He loved kissing her. And pretty soon they would take this relationship to the next level…if his mom would stop interrupting them.

  We need to find a place.

  Cade rose, too. “She’s still running the flower shop?”

  “Yes. And Mom asked her for help planning her wedding.”

  Finn laughed. “So she’s a wedding planner now, too?”

  “And working for us,” Cade said.

  “Running the flower shop, planning Mom’s wedding, and working for us,” Finn said, counting off on his fingers. “Are you sure we’re not dumping too much on her?”

  The ring of a cell phone rippled into Devon’s office from Isabelle’s.

  “Oh, crap. That has to be her phone.”

  “Looks like she’ll be coming back for that.”

  Devon ran into her office. “Or she’s calling now hoping to hear the ring of her phone, thinking it fell out of her purse or something. I better pick it up and tell her it’s here.”

  He grabbed the phone and said, “Hello?”

  “Who is this?”

  He winced. That wasn’t Isabelle.

  “I’m Devon Donovan, Isabelle’s boss.”

  “Oh, Devon. Hey. It’s me. Brooke Cooper, Isabelle’s mom.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Cooper.” He inclined his head, indicating his brothers could leave. They trooped out. “Isabelle left her phone. I thought this was her calling, trying to figure out where it was.”

  “Will you be taking her phone to her?”

  “No. But I’m sure she’ll be back for it.”

  “Great. Would you tell her that when she goes to the house tonight, she might want to tidy up the master bathroom?”

  “Tidy up?”

  “The real estate agent just called and told us she’s doing a showing first thing tomorrow morning. I can’t remember if I cleaned that bathroom before we took off for Myrtle Beach.”

  Devon said, “Sure. I’ll tell her.” But his head spun. Not for himself. For Isabelle. She was now working for him, running the flower shop, planning his mom’s wedding, and her parents still depended on her.

  She really was him in a skirt.

  “Since she’s going there tonight around nine to turn on the lights for a few hours, she can also run a dust cloth over the living room furniture.” She sighed. “They say it’s easier to be out of your house when an agent is trying to sell it. But how do you take care of dust when you’re a thousand miles away? You can’t. Thank God Isabelle is still in Harmony Hills.”

  “Yeah. That is lucky.”

  “Okay, then,” Brooke said. “Give my love to your mom. Good-bye, Devon.”

  “I will. Good-bye, Mrs. Cooper.”

  He disconnected the call and shoved Isabelle’s phone in his pocket. He wouldn’t make her come back to the house to get it. He really felt for her. Not because she was an only child who had to help her parents, but because things were stacking up. He might only be responsible for her job and for making her handle the flower shop, but he was still part of the stacking.

  The least he could do would be to find her and give her phone to her, even if that meant driving to her parents’ empty house.

  Halfway up the hall, he stopped and smiled.

  Empty house?

  Oh, this was perfect.

  Carrying two fishbowl vases filled with purple hyacinths, Isabelle followed LuAnn into the fire hall.

  “Honestly, that boy,” LuAnn said. “What the heck does he have aga
inst Bob?”

  “I don’t think he has anything against Bob, Mrs. Donovan.”

  “You can call me LuAnn, sweetie. You are my wedding planner.”

  “Right. LuAnn.” She used her elbow to press the doorbell. After a few seconds, Petie Burns, owner of Petie’s Pub and volunteer fireman, let them in.

  “Better wedge it open,” Isabelle said, “I’ve got sixteen of these.”

  Young, handsome Petie nodded. She and LuAnn walked the centerpieces to the kitchen, where the Dinner Belles were doing the night-before prep for tomorrow’s wedding supper.

  Isabelle raised her voice to get their attention. “Ladies.”

  “Hey, Izzy.” Sandy Wojak, head Belle, grinned at her. “Nice skirt.”

  Charlene Simmons raised her eyebrows.

  Isabelle said, “Thanks, Sandy. Charlene thinks I’m dressing like a hussy.”

  Charlene huffed indignantly. “That was Alice.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t hear you disagree.”

  Sandy walked over to Charlene. “You know the rule.”

  Charlene sighed. “Yes, Sandy. No gossip. But I wasn’t gossiping. Alice was. And we were at the diner. What was I supposed to do? Pick up my breakfast and move to another table?”

  Sandy said, “It might have been a way to jar her out of her gossiping.” Then she turned to Isabelle. “Do you want us to do the same thing we did with the last set of centerpieces?”

  “Yes. Store them in the big cooler until tomorrow after you set the tables.”

  Sandy hugged Isabelle. “Okay. And keep wearing your skirts. I think they’re adorable.”

  “Good, because I went online last night and ordered seven or eight.” Not just the fun, flirty skirts, but also the pencil skirts. She loved dressing up. She loved having a style. She loved the transition she’d made from Isabelle Cooper, florist, to Isabelle Cooper, woman.

  Sandy laughed. “So how is the new job going?”

  “Interesting. Not only am I studying the prospectuses of potential investments, but I’ve also just been appointed as the wedding planner for LuAnn’s wedding.”

  LuAnn grinned. “That’s why I’m tagging along. Got engaged.”

  Sandy gasped. “Oh, LuAnn. That’s wonderful.”

  Isabelle motioned to the door. “Let’s get the rest of the centerpieces into the cooler. Then we can talk cake.”