"It's okay," Robert cooed, his voice instantly soothing her frayed nerves.
She looked to her side. He was next to her, comfortably under the lush blankets. Everything came rushing back—the touching, the teasing, the fucking. Even after a full night of sleep, his hair disheveled and sleep lines on his cheeks, Robert Black looked amazing. She wanted to wake up like this every day.
"The construction crew likes to show up early."
"Oh, right, the wedding planning."
Karlee lay back down, tucking the blankets up to her chin. Robert only smiled, pulling her closer. "I can't wait until it's over with. I love my niece, but I also value my privacy."
She studied his face—the darkness of his eyes, the beauty mark on his jaw, and the sprinkling of grey near his temples. "Don't you get lonely?"
He took a while to answer. "I have plenty to keep me occupied."
Robert took a section of her hair and twirled it around his finger absently.
"After the business deals are over and your staff are gone for the night, it's just you in this big, empty house."
He shrugged. "What about you, little one?" he asked, changing the subject. "I know nothing about you outside of your floral creations."
"There's not much else to know." The fact her entire life focused on her business made her life feel empty. She'd never traveled, hadn't even seen the attractions in her own city. Life was eight to six, and evenings were a mix of Netflix and broken dreams. But she was trapped with no way out, so she trudged on like everyone else.
"No man in your life? That's hard to believe."
"If I had a man, I wouldn't be in your bed."
He leaned forward, closing the small space between them, and surprised her with a kiss on the lips. Kissing changed everything.
"Well, you are here. Maybe I'll keep you." He was just teasing, but she probably wouldn't protest. The thought of walking out of his house and his life like nothing happened weighed heavily on her. She felt like a school girl again, innocent and in love. But it was all smoke and mirrors.
"Sure. You can add me to your collection of conquests."
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Something wrong?"
She exhaled and shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just feeling sorry for myself." Karlee wanted to cuddle up into his arms and allow him to fend off the world. She craved the love and security an older man could provide. But Robert was no less a playboy than the gaggle of testosterone-ridden young men who lived in her city.
"Why, sweetheart? You're young, beautiful, and amazingly talented. What more could you want?"
"I guess everyone wants what they can't have." Except you, she thought. He said he'd have her, and he did. Where did that leave her? She rolled away and began searching for her articles of clothing. This one-night stand needed to end before she was irrevocably damaged.
As much as Karlee wanted to stay with Robert Black, she knew she had to get away. Every minute with him made her fall more in love. She was addicted just by looking at the man.
Karlee struggled to dress and tame her hair as she made her way down the hallway. Robert called from behind, but she ignored him. She didn't need his pity, pay-off, or lies. She was a big girl, and she'd get over their little one-nighter...eventually...maybe.
She hitched a ride with one of the linen trucks and managed to get her truck out of the impound lot herself. Now she was almost two hundred dollars in the hole. Hopefully she still had the job handling the wedding flowers for Elizabeth's daughter. But she wouldn't be setting up personally. Stella would have to do it for her. There was no way she could face Robert again—to see and not have. Not to mention the wedding planner and staff probably thought she was a world-class hooker.
That night after closing down the shop and turning out all the lights, she trudged up the dark stairwell to her apartment above the store. It was nothing like the Black estate. She was sure his ensuite bathroom rivaled her entire place in size. Karlee dropped down on her sofa with a bag of chips. She stared up at the ceiling, wondering what Robert was doing. Was he thinking of her? Had he already moved on to his next target? Her stomach turned just imagining him looking at another woman with the same mock-affection in his eyes. Why couldn't it have all been real?
One month later...
Karlee just finished putting out her sidewalk displays when the small bells clanged against the glass door. She turned around to find a tall man in an expensive business suit, his face obscured by the largest bouquet of roses she'd ever seen. At first she thought it was a regular delivery, but she hadn't ordered anything for today and the flowers were artfully arranged with baby's breath and accent flowers.
"Hello?"
The bouquet lowered, revealing the one man she'd tried to forget over the past month. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she looked into those dark eyes again.
"It's good to see you," he said, his voice sober.
She whirled around, pretending to be busy tidying up the counter. In reality, she didn't want him to see the war of emotion playing on her face. "What are you doing here?" Did he require more floral services with mandatory bonus sex? There was no way she could put her heart through that again, even if the subtle scent of his cologne already unraveled her.
"I had to see you, Karlee." He handed her the roses.
"And you brought me flowers?" She lifted an eyebrow. "I own a flower shop, you know?"
"Yeah. I guess I didn't think that one through too well."
He tried to reach out and touch her face, but she stepped back before he made contact.
"Don't. Please, just don't."
"Why? Why'd you run out on me like that? Did I do something wrong?"
Karlee exhaled in defeat and began placing her arrangement into an oversized vase, her back to him. "It wasn't you," she said. "I just had my expectations set too high. It seems to be a fault of mine."
"Can you tell me how I failed to meet them?" He spun her around and secured her by each arm so she couldn't twist away. It was odd having Robert Black in her little flower shop. He was larger than life, all male. It felt like two worlds were colliding—the real and the fantasy. Part of her was convinced she was still dreaming, about to wake up to the alarm clock at any minute.
"You didn't, okay. Look, I'm not the kind of girl to jump into bed with every man who asks. What we did meant something to me. Honestly, I'm still not over it."
"Really..."
"No, I'm not. So if another niece or nephew is getting married, you're going to have to find another florist. Despite the crumbling brick and mortar outside my shop, there's no price high enough to get me to work for you. I'm sorry."
He looked taken aback for a moment. "Wow. I wasn't expecting that." Robert tilted his head slightly. "You know you're the one who walked out on me, right?"
"It was only a matter of time before you did the same. I know your type—rich, powerful, and you think can own anyone or anything."
Now he frowned. "That's not fair, Karlee. I felt something between us, something deep enough that I wanted to get to know you better. But you rushed out of my life and refused to return my calls. I've been a zombie at the office. Everything reminds me of you. I keep redoing that day over and over in my head, wondering what I did to piss you off so bad."
Karlee didn't know what to believe. "Trust isn't an easy thing for me. I don't want to get hurt," she said honestly.
He loosened his grip on her upper arms and tugged her closer. "Just...give me a chance."
"You make it sound very simple."
"It can be." Robert took a deep breath at her neckline. "Mmm, I love the way you smell."
His voice was deep and gravelly, his breath hot against her sensitive skin.
The door chimed again. This time with a real customer. Before she could respond, Robert whirled part way around. "We're closed!"
"Hey! That was a customer."
"Hush." He leaned in and kissed her into silence. "I've been wanting to tell you something. You as
ked me a question that night, and I didn't answer you honestly."
"What question?"
"You asked if I ever get lonely."
She swallowed hard. Robert was revealing a vulnerable part of himself, real and raw. There was no humor in his eyes now, no playfulness or teasing. "And?"
"I am lonely in that big, old house. Even more so after meeting you. You made me realize what's important."
He touched her hair as if she might break, studying her features with what appeared to be genuine affection. Could it be true? Her heart began to race as she processed all the possibilities.
"You could have any woman you want."
"That doesn't help me if I only want one." He effortlessly hoisted her up onto the checkout counter, exactly as he had on his hallway table back home. His brute strength astounded and aroused her. Once he'd taken up residence between her legs, he began his seduction. He trailed kisses along her jaw before licking along the shell of her ear. Her eyes lolled back in her head as her erogenous zones came to life.
"I have a proposition, Ms. Jones. It seems I'm in need of a full-time florist."
"You? You need a staff florist?"
"I really love flowers." He tugged her hair back slightly, exposing her neck. Robert groaned, the sound of a man on the verge of losing control. "All I've thought about this past month are flowers."
"What if you tire of them? Even the most beautiful rose loses its fragrance."
"Oh no... I'm not a young man, Karlee. I'm not fickle. I know what I want."
She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "And what you want, you get."
The End
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THE PROPOSAL
Copyright© 2013
Doris O’Connor
Lara was late, and damn it she hated being late. Her stiletto’s rapid staccato seemed too loud across the marble flooring of the grand entrance foyer of Harold Enterprises. She groaned under her breath, seeing the throng of people waiting for the lift.
As if it hadn’t been torture enough to be sardined into the tube on this unseasonably warm summer’s day. Her blouse clung to her skin, and she itched to ditch the suit jacket, but this was an important proposal. Jamison Harold was only in the country for a few days, and she had been lucky to secure this appointment. Her fledgling interior design firm should by rights not even be in consideration for this job, but by some minor miracle he had granted her an audience.
She glanced at her watch and swore—five minutes ago.
She should have given herself more time, but who could have predicted that the current heat wave would mean London’s transport system would grind to a halt. Several tubes had been cancelled, meaning that she was not only hot and crumpled beyond repair, but also the scent of a thousand passersby had lodged in her nostrils and made her feel sick.
The door pinged open, and Lara joined the throng entering the lift. A fresh scent broke through the cloying mist of sweat and cologne, one so enticing that her heart galloped. It couldn’t be—not now—not here. Her skin heated and she squirmed under the quiet regard of the stranger, who smiled at her and stepped backwards to give her room.
The man had close cropped hair, strong eyebrows, and his impossibly broad shoulders strained the expensive cloth of his designer suit. His piercing blue eyes seemed to see straight into her soul, and pulled her closer into his overpowering presence.
Lara shut her eyes and let her senses take over. The crowded elevator drifted away, until it was just her and this handsome stranger. With people pressed in all around them now, his hands slid round her waist to steady her. A profusely sweating, obese man bundling into the lift inadvertently bumped into her, and she lost her footing on the sticky floor.
"Steady there, I've got you." His deep voice settled in the pit of her stomach and her skin tightened in response. He pulled her closer, until her breasts pressed into his chest, and one of his hands strayed to her ass, settling her legs between his thighs. Cocooned in his embrace, the assault on her senses proved too much, as his clean, earthy scent permeated her consciousness.
He lowered his head to sniff her neck and his growl matched her own. Their heartbeats synchronized and she inhaled the scent of home.
The drop dead gorgeous stranger licked the sensitive skin over her pulse point, and the friction his rough tongue created sparked darts of electricity along her nerve endings. Moist heat pooled between her thighs at the growled whisper into her ear.
"Mine."
She curled her fingers into the lapels of his jacket and stood on tip toes to get closer, needing to imprint his scent on her, to get as close as she could with their clothes still on. Clothes that chafed her sensitized skin, as her tiger prowled and itched to be set free.
"No, you're mine."
He smiled into her neck, and his grip on her grew painful. The repeated coughing of the businessman behind them finally got through to Lara. The doors pinged open and cool air rushed in. She shivered in the stranger’s arms. What was she doing? She had an appointment to get to. She couldn’t afford to let this stranger distract her. Too much was at stake here, more than the instant lust that had sprung up between her and this shifter.
He wasn’t her mate, no matter what her prowling tiger growled in her ear. She was just stunned to find another of her kind here in London. That was all. The heat had frazzled her brain. Yes, that was it.
The small space emptied as people left on the various floors, and she forced herself to step away from temptation. The lift shuddered to a stop again, and she glanced across at the display. This wasn’t her floor, but she needed to get away from him, lest she’d jump him right here and right now. And she couldn’t do that. She dropped her chin and murmured her excuses, dimly aware of his amused smile as she fled from the lift. The doors pinged shut and she sagged against the wall. Her whole body tingled. Every pore seemed awakened and ready to shift. She had to get herself back under control.
The sign for the ladies was like water in the desert, and she scrambled towards it. Once safely inside a cubicle she calmed her breathing and willed her tiger to stand down. She did so grudgingly, her tail flicking in annoyance, and despite the situation Lara had to smile. She loved her tiger, she really did, but the beast was the bratty to her sensible, the reckless to her cautious, and had gotten her teenage self into more trouble than she’d cared to remember.
However, Lara was a woman now, and in charge of her destiny. She would forge her own path, destiny and hormones and mating bonds be damned. Once she had herself back under control, she exited the cubicle, smiled at the young woman refreshing her make-up, and groaned at her reflection in the mirror. So much for presenting a cool and professional persona. Her hair had come out of its carefully constructed bun, her make-up was smeared, and her skin was so flushed she looked as though she had run a marathon, and she glanced at her watch again—she was now half an hour late.
Shit, shit, shit.
Lara splashed water on her face and scrubbed the remaining make-up off with a paper towel. Better to be bare faced than look as though she had tumbled out of her lover’s bed. She dragged her hands through her hair, letting the locks tumble down her back, and grabbing her presentation folder like a shield in front of her, she exited the toilets. The lift seemed to wink at her, but she ignored it and chose to take the stairs instead. No way would she risk another encounter with the delicious smelling stranger. No doubt his leftover scent in the confined space would set her beast off again on visions of entwined limbs and joined body parts, and little cubs playing in the sun.
No, she would take the stairs to be on the safe side, and she would ignore her sodden thong and her increased breathing at those visions. She was not going to follow that faint scent she could still trace in the air. A scent that seemed to get stronger the closer she came to her destination.
By the time Lara stood in front of
Jamison Harold’s stern-faced secretary, her heart was beating so fast she felt faint, and she could barely hear the woman over the rushing in her ears.
“Can I help you, Ms.?” the older woman asked.
“Lara. Lara Butler. I have an appointment to see Mr. Harold.”
Somehow Lara got her voice to project past the massive lump in her throat.
“Ah, yes,” the secretary—Ethel, according to the discreet badge on her desk, said. “Your appointment has been and gone. Mr. Harold is a very busy man, and a stickler for punctuality. I’m afraid you have wasted a trip.”
The smile with which she delivered those fatal words took nothing of their sting away, and Lara bit the inside of her cheek to stop her tiger’s growl from escaping. Her beast was all for ripping the woman to shreds. An extreme reaction, even for her, but then it was hot, and that damn shifter’s scent was still everywhere. It was enough to drive anyone insane, let alone a beast as volatile as hers.
“I’m aware of that, and I fully agree that punctuality is important, but surely he can make an exception.”
Ethel’s paper thin eyebrows rose to her equally thin hairline and this time Lara did growl. Not that it had any effect on the other woman. She simply pursed her lips and shook her head.
“Mr. Harold does not make exceptions. Ever. He has already slotted you into his busy schedule once, against my advice I might add.” She paused for dramatic effect and Lara bunched her hands into fists to hide her emerging claws. “So, I’m sorry, but I cannot help you.”
Another growl escaped and Ethel just smiled.
“Histrionics will not help you, my dear.”
She nodded over Lara’s shoulder with another smile and Lara lost the plot.
“Will you at least try and see if he will see me? Please.” She ground that last word out through gritted teeth, ever mindful of the fact that she had to keep this battle-axe on her good side if she was to have any chance of seeing Jamison Harold in person. If only her body didn’t respond to the intoxicating scent in the air and her brain was not fogged in arousal. The fine hair on her body rose, as though the owner of that scent stood right behind her, which was ridiculous. Lara shut her eyes and tried again.
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