by Tess MacKall
“Whatever. And exactly. After all, it’s that time of year. The Twelve Days of Love.”
She smiled. “Okay, Nick. I’ll try if you will.”
Maybe they could get along. Of course, it wouldn’t help the physical side of things as far as she was concerned. But he didn’t come into the shop more than a couple of times a month. It might be nice not to feel so angry and wet when he left the next time.
“Good. I’ll pick you up at your mother’s house at seven.” He strode toward the door.
It was as if the floor fell out from under her. She grabbed the countertop. Blood rushed to her head and her heart drummed so loudly she thought surely the vibrations would bring the roof down on top of her.
“What!”
Nick spun on his heel. “Seven o’clock. Jeans will be fine. Twelve days, Eden. Twelve days of practicing what you preach. I’ll be driving a Chevy when I pick you up too.” He yanked the door open so the bells jingled, grinned, offered her a little salute and closed the door behind him.
Chapter Two
Nick slid into the sleek black Mercedes and started it. Gut punched. That’s the effect Eden Riley had always had on him. He glanced at the side-view mirror for oncoming traffic before he pulled away from the curb. Even back in high school she’d rattled him, and she’d been a geeky little thing then. Not at all his type.
“Crap!” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
What did he know about his type? He’d certainly screwed up his love life enough to prove he needed someone else to be in charge.
Thirty-four years old, no children, a leased condo for a home and a string of bimbo flings that had left him sour on women. The biggest bimbo fling of all had been his eleven-year marriage to Jenna. What a piece of work she’d turned out to be.
Of course he’d known that from day one, hadn’t he?
He veered the car onto the beltway, blowing the horn at a pickup that refused to move over to the other lane as he tried to ease the Mercedes in to the speeding traffic. “Asshole!”
Nick returned the driver’s one-fingered gesture as he passed the pickup, increasing the Mercedes’ speed, anxious to get back to the office and put his plan of action to work. There was only one problem. He didn’t have a plan. Finally asking Eden out after all these years had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. Well, sort of spur of the moment. At last he’d found the nerve, was more like it.
What did a guy do with a woman like Eden?
Nick’s bimbo experiences wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good. He grinned. Eden’s big blue eyes saw everything. She wouldn’t be impressed by money and fancy restaurants. His approach needed the subtle touch.
“Shit. Who am I kidding? She doesn’t even like me. Never has. And now she’s got me talking to myself.”
What was it about Eden Riley that turned him into a prepubescent, babbling idiot?
“Well, for one thing, Nick ol’ boy, it could be that sweet little body of hers. All curves.” Crap, I’m talking to myself again.
Breast implants sitting on top of a clothes-hanger body just didn’t do it for him anymore. Had he ever really been attracted to that kind of woman? He’d given his life a lot of thought in the past couple of years, and most of his decisions had been about what was expected of him rather than what he actually wanted.
Case in point—Jenna.
Parents on both sides had pushed for the marriage. Truth be told, he hadn’t even liked Jenna. And love? He’d tried. God knew he’d tried. It just seemed that the night he’d taken that fall on the court his life had spun out of control. After that it was easier to follow marching orders than explore other possibilities. He’d had no clue who he was or what he wanted.
Until now.
He wanted Eden.
Whipping the car down the exit ramp, he accelerated through a caution light and wheeled down three more blocks to the dealership where he maintained an office. Once he parked, he leaned back against the seat. He heard the sound of the lot speakers blurting out for one of the salesmen to return a call to accounting. It seemed so surreal, reminding him of the way the adult voices on the Peanuts cartoons sounded.
He hated the car business. Granted, he didn’t have to actually sell them, but the whole concept left him cold. The dealerships had been handed to him on a silver platter and he should be grateful. But somehow it all came off as contrived. What had he created? Built from the ground up? The dealerships were his father’s achievement. Where was his?
Nick peered through the windshield at the shopping center across the street, his gaze focusing on one building in particular. The Enchanted Gardens Flower Emporium. Yeah, right across the street was a flower shop. Two months after he’d booted Jenna’s ass to the curb, he’d gone inside the place to send flowers to his grandmother.
A couple of hours earlier, he’d been involved in a shouting match with Jenna, who’d brought her parents to the divorce settlement proceedings. She’d demanded one hell of a lot more than he’d planned to give. Anything but stupid, and suddenly faced with the failure his life had become, he’d refused to give an inch. He’d promised to fight her in court if necessary, show all those photos of her and the masseuse. Jenna caved in and Nick had walked out victorious—but also feeling lost somehow.
Later, inside Enchanted Gardens, the surroundings had reminded him of the last time he’d laid eyes on Eden—years ago. He’d picked up a centerpiece his mother had ordered for her bridge club party from Eden’s mother. While he was there, he and Eden had found something to disagree about, of course, and during the verbal volley he’d discovered she was heading out for college the next week. A little piece of him had cracked with the news. He still recalled the sinking sensation in his stomach. Eden, so familiar yet foreign, had always been there. But suddenly he’d been faced with the probability that he’d never see her again.
He hadn’t thought about Eden in years—well, at least not daily—although she’d crossed his mind more often than not. But that day in Enchanted Gardens, the need to know she was happy had possessed him with the force of a tidal wave. Somebody in this world needed to be happy, and he’d prayed to God it was Eden. He’d stopped in the midst of placing his order, walked out the door and driven straight to Eden’s mother’s shop in the old downtown district thirty minutes away. After that he’d gone to the shop every few weeks to order some flowers for one female relative or another, just to hear news of Eden.
Nick raked his hands through his hair. Shoving the door open, he stepped out into the bright February sunshine. Customers milled about with salesmen. A brand-spanking-new Chevy Camaro Coupe displayed in the huge glassed-in showroom spun lazily on a rotating stage.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt sure Eden would have something to say about his choice in vehicles tonight. But heaven help him, if he had to salvage a damn Chevette from the junkyard and drive it around for the next twelve days, he damn sure would.
Eden Riley belonged to him.
Since the day he’d walked into her mother’s shop and discovered she was back, he’d thought of nothing else.
Propping himself against the Mercedes Roadster, he tuned out the noise around him—the people, the cars—and focused on Eden. He loved the way she constantly tucked her shoulder-length, blue-black hair behind her ears. Such a simple gesture, but every time she did it, his mouth watered. And her luscious lips? God, how he wanted to kiss them. Since she’d been back, he’d had to literally walk away from her in the middle of a heated argument to keep from grabbing her and giving her just a sample of what he could do with his lips—and tongue.
She’d driven him crazy with want for almost a year. He’d walked into that shop today with every intention of asking her to dinner straight out. But his insides had turned to jelly the moment she’d sashayed those voluptuous hips through the doorway. So what had he done? Ordered roses for every female relative whose address he’d imported from his mother’s cell phone, including his ten-year-old twin nieces and six cousins he�
��d never even met. He’d spent a fortune in the past year on flowers. Well, at least he’d made someone happy.
Everything about Eden felt so damn right. She didn’t let him get away with anything, always had a great comeback and kept him on his toes. Eden Riley would never bore him. The way her mind worked fascinated him. If there was one person in the world whose respect he needed, it was hers.
Eden was a real woman.
He shook his head, grinning at the way her eyes had flashed with anger at hearing him say she seemed willing to sell love as a product but didn’t believe in it. She’d come back at him in a heartbeat with her own take on his selling out and she was right. He should be driving a Chevy.
The look on her face when he’d told her he was picking her up had been worth the entire year of feeling like a lovesick schoolboy. Yes, lovesick.
Nick Lancaster was in love with Eden Riley.
He wanted to go back to high school and write it on the bathroom wall. Carve their initials into tree trunks. Hire a sky-writer to etch her name against the bright blue sky in pink smoke!
Pink smoke? Where the hell did that come from?
He didn’t care. Pink smoke suited her. She was like cotton candy, old-fashioned melt-in-your-mouth peppermints and homemade peach ice cream, and he was tired of waiting for a taste. Tonight he’d finally get his chance and he planned on finding the perfect way to show her he was so much more than she thought. She obviously believed he was a playboy. Yeah, right. He hadn’t had a date since she’d hit town again.
“Mmmm…” he moaned.
Just remembering the sound of her voice revved his engine. Nothing fake about her breasts either. The thought of touching her nipples swelled his cock so tight it hurt. He was afraid to think about getting between her thighs. Hell, he might spontaneously combust if he did. But he thought about it anyway, forming a picture in his mind of her lying naked and him thrusting his cock deep inside her wetness. A major shot of need arrowed through him. Oh, fuck. Yeah, if he ever actually got between her legs he’d come like a virgin at a prostitute’s picnic.
In the distance, the shrill voice of Helen, his personal secretary, dragged him from his daydreaming. She vigorously waved a white piece of paper as she ran down the showroom steps toward him.
“Nick! Have you turned your cell off again?”
He nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose. Another big dealership emergency, no doubt. Who was threatening to sue him now? Which irate customer in the service department was demanding to see the owner? Maybe it was a charity organization needing to raffle off yet another one of his cars. Regardless of who required his attention, they’d sure pushed Helen’s hot button. His normally reserved secretary appeared upset, to say the least.
She landed in front of him, brushing wisps of gray hair away from her face and desperately trying to tuck them back into the bun at the nape of her neck. With a huff, she smoothed her matronly dark brown dress and adjusted her pearl choker.
Placing her hand flat against her diaphragm as she always did before she had something to say that he might not like, she began her tongue-lashing. “Nick, I will not allow your irate bedroom conquests to harangue me over your whereabouts.”
Nick started to speak but she held up her hand.
“Don’t even try to tell me it’s something different than it really is. I might be old and gray but I’m not stupid.” She thrust the offending message out in front of her.
He took the paper, almost scared to read it. She stood there tapping the toe of her sensible flats on the pavement and folded her arms across her chest. If she only knew how vacant his bedroom had been in the past year, she’d laugh. He glanced at the note then back to her and back at the note again.
Scribbled in red felt tip pen was the name Eden Riley.
His head jerked up. “Eden called? How long ago?”
“About fifteen minutes.” Helen reached over and jabbed the paper with her finger several times. “You’ve got your hands full with this one, Nick. She doesn’t like being told no.”
Helen turned to walk away.
“Wait. What did she say?”
“What didn’t she say? And it all boiled down to you’d better not show up at her house tonight. I should have given her your cell number like she demanded. Next time I will.”
He watched Helen walk up the steps to the showroom. His mind raced at an unfathomable speed. What the hell did he do now? He stared at the paper. Should he call her and remind her of their deal to try to get along? She’d find a way to shut him down and he had no intention of giving up. He’d show up at her house tonight whether she liked it or not.
Balling the paper then squeezing it in his fist, he wondered what would happen when she answered the door. Maybe she wouldn’t answer and instead he’d get lucky and her mother would. Her mother. On his numerous visits to the shop, they’d talked about everything under the sun. Yeah, Eden’s mother liked him.
Hmmm…
Nick ran up the showroom steps, swung the door wide and bounded inside. Stopping short, he located a small plastic trash can next to the receptionist’s desk halfway across the room, faked a dribble, assumed his jump shot position and fired the crumpled paper through the air.
More excited than he’d been in years, he shouted, “Three points!” and sprinted to his office. He had someone he needed to call. It was time to enlist a little support in his all-out assault for the affections of one stubborn woman.
Chapter Three
“I can’t do this, Mom.” Eden’s hand shook so hard she dropped her bracelet.
How could she possibly spend an entire evening with Nick and not lose her mind? She could barely talk to him in the flower shop. Twinges of lust had already wet her panties and she was just sitting there trying to fasten a bracelet! Her nipples would be sensitive all night. She glanced down at her breasts. God, she hoped the tips wouldn’t show through her blouse. Right now her breasts tingled so hard she felt sure anyone who looked could see them actually vibrate.
She focused her attention on her mother’s reflection in the mirror over the vanity table. An older version of Eden, silver-haired and too thin as a result of her illness, Mrs. Riley patted Eden’s shoulder. Releasing yet another long sigh, she walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Eden twisted on the cushioned seat to face her.
“Mom, you don’t understand. This has got to be some colossal joke of Nick’s. There isn’t a serious bone in the man’s body.”
“You and I apparently know two different people. He’s polite, a good conversationalist, incredibly intelligent and very caring.”
Eden bent over and retrieved the bracelet from the floor then stood. “He’s shallow, Mom. You’re forgetting that I know him better than you.”
“Oh, really? You knew him in high school, honey. He was a boy who chased girls and basketballs like all of them do. But he had a serious side then too. He was on the debate team with you.”
Tossing the bracelet to the vanity’s surface, Eden stalked over to the bed and sat next to her mother. “Doesn’t matter. He hasn’t changed.”
“Honey, he asked you out, didn’t he? That in itself should prove that he’s grown.”
“Oh, okay. On a lark he decides to pay attention to the chubby geek and that makes him eligible for sainthood.”
“What!” Mrs. Riley rose and walked to the dressing table to pick up the bracelet. She shook her head, returned to the bed and took Eden’s hand. As she secured the dainty sapphire bracelet around Eden’s wrist she continued. “You’re a size fourteen. You’re perfect.”
“I should be a four.”
“No. That’s too skinny.” She patted Eden’s hand. “You’re beautiful. I know that and so does he. Now we just have to convince you. But I think I’ll leave that up to Nick.”
The doorbell rang. Mrs. Riley headed toward the bedroom door.
Eden leapt from the bed. “Mom, I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can. If you won’t do it for yourself,
do it for me. I can’t be responsible for taking everything from you, Eden. My illness stole your career. Don’t you think I know that? I’ll be damned if I’ll allow you to dry up sitting here with me night after night. Don’t burden me with any more guilt than I already have.” Mrs. Riley passed through the doorway, her slippered feet moving in an energy-ravaged shuffle along the hall’s hardwood floor.
Eden wanted to cry. Had her mother sensed resentment from her at having to come home and keep the business going? God knew she’d tried her best not to let her mother know how sad and worried she was. Tried not to show her fear of losing the only person in the world she loved. What would she do if her mother died? How do you survive in the world without anyone? But not once had she ever regretted coming back home to take care of her and the business.
New York had been a lonely place, and she needed to tell her mother that. Eden had sacrificed a lot for her career, and a job was all she’d left behind. It wasn’t as though she was unhappy designing floral arrangements. Her love of art had driven her for years and she simply had to find another outlet for that part of her. After this soon-to-be fiasco of an evening, Eden planned to talk to her mother and make sure she laid all her worries to rest. Her mother needed to reserve her energy for her health and not waste it on some groundless guilt trip.
Nick’s laughter filtered through the open doorway. A delightful tremor skittered through Eden. How would she manage being cooped up in a car with him? For that matter, how could she sit across from him at a dinner table or beside him at a movie? Maybe she’d just settle this once and for all when they were alone in the car. He could drop her off at the movies and she’d take a cab home. Her mother would never know.
Eden checked herself in the mirror one more time. The black jeans she wore slimmed her hips a bit and the tapered, turquoise blue blouse fitted at the waist helped too. She slipped on a black velvet bolero jacket with sequined cuffs and tucked her hair behind one ear to show off her one-carat diamond studs. She didn’t wear a lot of jewelry and it worried her she’d chosen her most expensive pair of earrings for this night. Not to mention the sapphire bracelet. Was she subconsciously trying to impress Nick? Wishing he’d think she was pretty?
