by Tessa Bowen
It was just herself and old Mr. Lee working in the shop that day. It was a quiet Thursday—Pedro was out on deliveries. She put the finishing touches on her last bouquet and took a step back to admire the colorful array of flowers. The blood orange tango lilies were a bold choice nestled alongside the vermillion roses.
She tucked in a few stems of lime-green viburnum. “I friggin’ love it,” she whispered. “I hope they do too.”
Lee’s Flower Shop was a hole in the wall. Izzy spent most of her time in the cramped workshop. The retail section of the shop was tiny as well. It looked out onto a quiet side street. Izzy had spruced up the place as soon as she had been hired and now the window was stuffed with attractive bouquets and exotic orchids lined the sills.
She heard the bell on the door ring out front. She glanced at the clock—almost closing time. “You got it, Mr. Lee?”
There was no response. The bell rang again. She straightened her apron and came out of the back room, tripping on her shoelace. Her entrance was abrupt and clumsy as it so often was. She winced, hoping Mr. Lee had not heard the kerfuffle. As nice as he was, he sometimes got annoyed with her noisy crashing and bashing. By some miracle she’d only dropped one vase since she’d started. Izzy knelt behind the counter and quickly tied up her sneaker.
A familiar scent wafted into the shop. It was not floral—more masculine and woodsy with hints of bay and cedar—sandalwood mixed with English lavender. Izzy shook off the delicious fragrance and rose to face the customer. She was confronted by the broad back of a very tall man. When he turned to face her, the room froze around her.
Stone grey eyes watched her from beneath sweeping auburn brows. She took in the strong set of his jaw, the elegant cheekbones, the long nose and high forehead. The fit of his houndstooth overcoat was perfect, hugging his slim waist and hips in one long taper. There was only one man on Earth who wore his clothes so perfectly tailored.
Had he stepped out of one of her feverish dreams? He couldn’t be real—could he? All of his features and parts were there, as if he was indeed real, and his scent smelled real too.
“Holy Crap. You’re not real, right?”
“Of course I’m real.”
The blood drained from her face as she cowered in the shadows. It was not fear that made her knees turn to jelly; it was the shocking power of his handsomeness. He lived in her every waking fantasy and burned bright in her dreams at night. Still, she had forgotten the impact he made in person.
She stumbled backward, seeking refuge in the workshop. “How…how did you find me?”
The fine fabric of his trousers whispered as he came after her. He filled the small area with his size and height. “I’ve found you—that’s all that matters.” He pulled off a glove and closed his hand around her small face, studying her features. He frowned as if her appearance offended him “When was the last time you ate? You are as thin as a wisp.”
She pushed his hand away and bristled. “Did you come all this way just to tell me I look like crap?”
His hands cradled her face once more, his fingers sifted through her softly curling locks. “And your hair…it’s longer.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t blow your cover. You said I had to change my appearance, remember? So I grew my hair out—big friggin’ deal. I figured it would be better than wearing clown mask.”
Now his fingers caressed her ear, tugging gently on the silky wave tucked behind it. “It’s lovely like this.”
His rich baritone washed over her. She held onto the table for dear life as her legs started to give out. “Oh Crap. Not again.”
“What is it?”
Her head spun in a woozy swirl. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out. Seriously, don’t touch me—I’ll keel over.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t.”
She wanted to melt into his warm touch. The scent of his cologne clung to his collar, inviting her to enter a world of sensory delight. Desperately, she clawed at his fingers. She couldn’t trust herself if he were to put his hands on her again. When she pushed past him, he moved after her, stalking her like a dangerous predator. She felt like a deer being hunted by a stealthy puma. He was a handsome wall of sleek muscle closing in on her.
She searched his face. “Do I need to make some sort of public appearance with you? Is that why you’re here?”
“I tore up the contract—you are free from obligation. Do you really think that’s why I came, Isabel?”
“Why else would you be here?”
“I wanted to check on you—make sure you were all right. You left rather abruptly.”
“Well, I don’t appreciate you coming here and I don’t want to see you. I’m just about over you, you know?”
He cocked one coppery brow. “Just about?”
“Don’t turn on the friggin’ charm,” she warned. “It always starts out that way—with the one eyebrow going up and then I get jelly legs.”
“That sounds rather delicious.”
“No!” she cried. “It’s not delicious. They get all mushy—like my legs just fold. I feel good at first but then you always end up making me feel bad. I don’t want to feel bad anymore. I’m trying to get my life together.”
His grey eyes warmed around the rim. “I don’t make you feel bad all the time. Sometimes I make you feel very good—don’t I, my darling?”
Her breath hitched as she searched those magnetic grey orbs. “I’m not your darling anymore. You sent me away, remember?”
“Then I beseeched you to stay, I did not think you would leave like that.”
“You know why I left. I can’t resist you. No one can.”
“Why must you resist me at all?”
“I’m not going to keep letting you put me in bad positions.”
A devilish smile played on his lips. “I thought you liked all of the positions I put you in.”
“I mean it, you weirdo pervert! You can’t do this to me again!”
Somehow, she found the strength to disentangle herself. She made a run for it but the Duke lunged for her, grabbing her around the arm.
“Why didn’t you take the check?”
She shook him off. “I told you, I don’t want your money.”
“You can’t survive without my money.”
“Oh, really?” she flared. “I’ve survived my entire life without your money.”
“I have seen the flophouse you live in, it is unacceptable.”
“Flophouse? God, you’re unbelievable! That is how regular people live. Not everyone gets to live in a giant stone castle with servants waiting on them every second of the day, you know.”
“I told you that you would never have to live in another ugly place and I meant it. That building you’ve set yourself up in looks like it should be condemned.”
“How long have you been spying on me!”
“Plenty of girls would love to have me spy on them. They’d probably be delighted if I arranged a midnight break in, in fact.”
“I’m not plenty of girls and I don’t want some fancy pants stalker looking in my window or breaking in! Good night, Mr. Lee,” she hollered over her shoulder.
“All right,” Trevor muttered. “I hear you loud and clear. No need to shout.”
Izzy clomped over to the time clock and punched out. She yanked the apron over her head and hung it on the back of the bathroom door. Then she shoved her arms into a big down coat. The Duke was there to help her into the jacket, but she skittered away with an outraged squeak. She jammed on a fuzzy wool hat and flung her back pack over her shoulders, stepping into the cold winter evening. She stared straight ahead as she pounded the pavement. He was right beside her every step of the way.
“Let me take you to dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You look hungry.”
“I’m doing just fine without you. I’m not some charity case for you to throw coins at.”
“I’m not trying to throw coins at you.”
“Money doesn�
�t fix everything, you know?”
“I want you to have that money, damn it.”
She waited for the stoplight to turn as plumes of steam blew from his mouth and nostrils. He looked so achingly handsome in his long overcoat—so out of place on the dingy Brooklyn streets. She could easily live inside that coat for the rest of her life, tucked in between soft cashmere lapels and silk lining. It was happening. She was falling in love with him all over again. She fought against it, hoisting her stubborn little chin in the air.
“I don’t want your money. I told you before. I won’t take it.”
“Forget my bloody money. Will you have me then?”
“Have you? Whaddya mean?”
Izzy screeched when he grabbed her by the collar of her puffy coat and shook her. Trevor shook her so hard the loose stocking cap she wore slid down her forehead, covering her eyes. She flopped against him like a child trapped in an oversized snowsuit.
He pushed the hat back with a gloved hand. “Will you have me, I said.”
“Huh?”
“Be with me,” he bit out crossly.
“Why?”
“Why do you think, you bloody, stupid twit? I’m in love with you.”
Cars and cabs whizzed around them. They panted for breath in the cold, staring hard at each other.
Holy. Friggin’. Crap.
Had he really just said those words? Isabel chewed her lip in giddy amusement as he glowered at her.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me you horrid girl—I’ll throttle you if you do.”
“You are like really bad at this.”
“I’m a bloody wreck, thank you very much. I haven’t slept in four straight months.”
“Whoa, that’s a lotta wrinkles.”
His glare faded to a disgruntled grimace. “I’ll look like Father bloody Time when you’re finished with me. I thought I would go mad with all the fretting.”
“You worried and fretted?”
“Please don’t be nasty to me. I’ve never been in love before—it’s all very new to me and I’m not really happy about it. It feels bloody awful. It feels like… like… ”
At a loss for words, the Duke heaved a long, defeated sigh.
“Like friggin’ crap?”
“Yes, quite. Come to dinner with me, please,” he entreated softly. “Come to my hotel room where it’s warm—I am staying at the Carlyle.”
She gave him an eye roll and went straight into her best snooty English accent. “Of course, you arrrrrrrrrre. Where else would you poooooossibly be staying?”
“You’re going to be ruthless, aren’t you? I just want to talk to you—and maybe sleep for about a year.”
She backed away from him, delivering one of her signature snorts. “Sleep, yeah right. No way. I know better than to go to the Devil Duke’s hotel room. Only one thing can happen there and I’m a good girl, or at least I was until you got hold of me.”
He raised his voice in frustration as she headed down the street. “I just bloody told you I am in love with you, Isabel—and still you choose to torment me!”
“Welcome to the real world, Your Grace. It totally sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t you have anything else to say?”
“Yeah, I have something to say. It’s official—you’ve really lost your marbles this time.”
There it was.
Her smile was like a straight shot of adrenaline to his heart—it lit up the entire world—his world at least. He smiled back, itching to go after her. Trevor knew very well he could swoop down on her and seal the deal with a kiss. He’d make it slow and sweet and very wet and she’d be following him back to the Carlyle like a good little girl indeed. But he knew it had to be different this time—she had to come of her own free will.
“Will you come tomorrow?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she answered in a singsong voice. “Maybe not.”
She backed farther and farther away, her eyes glinting with mischief. The concrete jungle was about to swallow her up.
“How long will you make me wait, Isabel? How long must I suffer?”
His final question was drowned out by a loud horn. He could just make out the top of her adorable little elf hat, spunky pompom bobbing—then she disappeared into the night.
Chapter Twenty-One
Izzy lasted exactly forty-one hours and twenty-seven minutes. She hoped (whole-heartedly) that the Duke had been in agony every second of those forty-one hours and twenty-seven minutes. She took her time as she yawned and slouched in her seat, perusing the room with agonizing laziness. The red velvet chairs and plush chintz banquettes reminded her of the dining room at Devoy. An English hunting scene was painted on the wall and a six foot high floral arrangement dominated the center of the room. One thing was for sure, Mr. Lee wouldn’t approve of the ostentatious display.
“Fancy digs, Your Grace. Did they decorate it like this just for you?”
He stared her down across the café table, impatiently tapping his fingers on the jacquard table cloth. “Of course not.”
Izzy gnawed her lip as he inhaled through his nose and straightened his cuffs—a telltale sign that his blue blood was starting to boil. A navy blue V-neck sweater stretched tight across his chest and shoulders. He wore his usual spic-and-span oxford cloth shirt, flawlessly tailored with the turned out cuffs (the very ones he now fussed with.) It seemed almost obscene that a man could look so handsome in the bright daylight, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She was having way too much fun tormenting him. She thought about knocking his coffee over. Those pristine cuffs might look good dip-dyed.
Nah, that would be too much.
“What do they have to eat here? I’m starving.”
“I’ve ordered for you—the Dover sole is excellent.”
She started to fidget with the intricate fold in her napkin. In an attempt to unfurl it, she gave the thing a violent shake. He snatched it from her, spreading it wide with a graceful flick of his wrist.
“Are you quite finished?”
She blinked innocently. “Finished with what?”
“With this little charade of yours.”
She giggled. “Charaaaaaaaaade.”
“I suppose you won’t stop until I’m writhing in pain.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Well, I’ve moved past the writhing stage and now I’m getting really angry.”
The waiter came with the food and Izzy snatched her fork. “Are you like reaaaalllllly angry?”
“Yes, really and truly.”
“Oh, goodie. I was hoping you might pencil me in for a spanking later.”
The Duke’s jaw dropped; a vibrant bolt of scarlet spread from the top of his collar to the base of his hairline. Abruptly, he snapped his mouth shut and leaned in. “You’re not wearing knee socks under there, are you? I’ll come undone if you are.”
She slapped his hand under the table. “Mitts off, weirdo pervert! I’m trying to eat my lunch.”
Trevor retreated, crossing his arms over his chest. He watched her as she inhaled her food like a lumberjack.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?” she asked with her mouth full.
“I can’t bloody eat. I’ve got the clash of the Titans going on in my trousers. My fly may burst at any moment.”
“I’m like so friggin’ hungry. Can I order more food?”
She had already cleaned her plate and there wasn’t a crumb left in the breadbasket.
“Must you?” he said tightly. “I think we should talk about what I said last night.”
“You want me to eat, don’t you? You said I was too skinny. I mean, look at this fish, it’s like paper thin. Do you want me to hold it up to the light? You can see right through it!”
Trevor beckoned the waiter over. “Bring the dessert menu, will you? On second thought, roll the whole bloody cart out.”
“Oh! And some french fries, please!”
The Duke sulked quietly as the second waiter rolled out a lavish display of des
serts and pastries. Silver serving spoons in hand, the waiter addressed Isabel with a small bend at the waist.
“What will the lady be having?”
“Better park it, old boy. She is planning on stuffing herself silly.”
“Very good, sir.”
Trevor observed her with a mixture of amusement and disgust as she stacked her plates high with rich desserts. First came the cream puff, (which she decimated in two bites) then she licked raspberry coulis off her fingers and dove on the éclair, eviscerating it with a few stabs of her fork. She moved onto the lemon meringue tart, making quick work of that too.
“Oh, I forgot about my fries!”
She rammed a french fry into a heap of whipped cream and popped it into her mouth.
“Yummy combo. Wanna try?”
“I think you’ve had quite enough, you’ll make yourself sick.”
“Awwwww. I wanted to try one of those salted caramel thingeeze.”
“I don’t want you falling into a diabetic coma just yet, we have things to discuss.”
“You mean, you wanna discuss the fact that you told me you were in love with me?”
“Such a declaration needs discussing, don’t you think?”
Izzy wrinkled her nose. Her napkin was soiled and streaked with raspberry and fudge sauce. “Ew, gross—I’m all sticky. I need to go to the bathroom and hose myself off.”
He snatched her wrist, holding her captive. “You are not going bloody anywhere until we’ve talked about this.”
“God, are you always going to be so violent?”
The color drained from his cheeks. “You don’t really think of me as violent, do you? It’s just…you have a way of pushing me too far. No one has ever made me as angry as you do.”
“I was just teasing you. Besides, I kinda like it when you’re angry. You’re really sexy when you’re mad.”
“I’m glad you find my rage arousing,” he muttered grumpily. “Perhaps I should start clobbering the wait staff, would you find that titillating?”
“Oh, deeeeeaaaaar. Not at alllllllll.”
“I should have known you would use that supremely annoying fake British accent at a time like this.”