A marriage proposal, Daisy thought dryly, was the last thing she wanted when she'd already had two of them.
The phone rang and Michelle reached over to answer it. "Poppy's books," she said breezily. "Oh hi, Mrs. Carstairs, how are you this morning?"
Daisy absently turned the page on Joel's book to even more grim pictures of bakeware.
Michelle had never married. Had never found that elusive, supposedly life-long partner. Daisy had. Twice.
The first time she’d been barely out of her teens and Dave had been her first real boyfriend. They'd only dated a month before they'd decided what the heck, they weren't getting any younger, the quarter century mark was looming and they might as well settle down and start growing up. They had in fact proceded to drive each other crazy within weeks, and six months later Daisy had felt relief rather than pain when Dave had taken off on his Suzuki 100 to try his luck at the music scene in Dunedin.
The second time she’d fallen for a nearly six-foot med student who had been charming and friendly to everyone he met. Lionel Underhill. The marriage to Lionel had lasted three years and left her with a massive dose of insecurity, along with his collection of Pink Floyd CDs which she still kept because she liked to listen to the music at night with rose-scented candles, a book, and a supply of chocolates at the ready. Lionel listened to Miles Davis and Charlie Parker now. Daisy inhaled sharply. Too late, she'd figured out the real reason Lionel had wanted a wife and "to have and to hold" had not been at the top of the list.
Michelle finished the phone call and turned to Daisy.
"That was Mrs. Carstairs to say she's getting her cataracts done next week." Michelle sighed. "We live such exciting lives, don't we? I am totally trying out for that show."
“As long as you know what you're letting yourself in for."
“Oh, I know. I devoured the info." She tapped her fingers on the counter top. "But I really don’t want to go alone. Daisy, I need you to come with me. Please?”
Daisy pushed herself away from the stool. "Sorry but no." She had to focus on her shop. Her rebranding. To overhaul a business when she had no money to promote it.
Michelle said, “Will you at least go for an audition? It might be fun. What if I beg? Would that help?”
“Seems to me like you’re begging already.” Daisy began to sift through the paper in today's mail to see what was junk and what should stay.
She paused, and glanced back. They’d been friends for years. Michelle had been there through the tough times and had helped celebrate the good. She'd been there when Lionel had dumped her. Had been there when Grandma Poppy had died last year.
Had helped her start up Poppy's.
Was going to help her now with Dreams by Poppy.
A thought suddenly struck her and she stopped dead in her tracks, mulling it over.
"What's that look on your face?" Michelle asked warily.
Daisy ran her finger down the cover of Joel's book. "If you get on the show, what happens? I mean, do they give you fake names, or what?"
"No. It has to be legit. Above board."
Daisy bit down on her bottom lip. "Would it say, for example, that this is contestant Daisy Miller, owner of the newly rebranded Dream's by Poppy book store in Ponsonby?"
Michelle's eyebrows arched. "It could. I mean the people have to know something about you, where you live and what you do. That's part of the fun as a viewer. Matching up the contestants."
"When is the show on?"
"Auditions are next week and then the show starts filming the week after that. It's live TV."
Daisy glanced around her shop. Thought of Bridget. Thought of the Ticking Clockers. She bet a show like Mystery Date would be a Ticking Clocker's guilty pleasure. They'd be too evolved to watch reality TV but something like this...
"What's that website address?"
Michelle's eyes widened. "Are you seriously thinking about it?" She pulled her tablet out from under the counter and brought up her internet browser.
Daisy said, "Bridget has told me to shut down Poppy's. Said I don't have the money to promote it."
"Which you don't."
The website loaded and Daisy leaned over to look. It seemed tasteful enough. "So I am not looking a gift horse in the mouth." She skimmed it fast, then went back up a line. "I mean I know this is a long shot but it's about time I had some good luck. Oh. Damn." She inhaled sharply. "You have to tick a box if you've been married before."
"So just tick it."
Daisy winced, and Michelle said, "Maybe they'll think you're such a loser they'll take pity on you."
The front door to Poppy’s opened abruptly, a teenager stepped in, took one look then left, the door shutting behind her.
Michelle’s hacking cough, the result of half a decade’s judicious addiction to menthol cigarettes, broke the sound over the last jingles of the door bell.
“That damned bell has got to go,” she spluttered on a wheeze. “The new store just can not have one. It’s a hazard to my mental health. As your friend and your part time employee, I demand you replace it with an electronic buzzer like the average 21st century store.”
“You keep missing the point.” Daisy waved her hand towards the door. “The bell is charming. A buzzer is not. And the new store still has to have charm. Dreams by Poppy will still be charming. But with less of the quaint."
The front door opened again and Daisy glanced up, expecting to see another teen looking for the internet cafe four doors down.
It was no teen.
The air around her went suddenly still.
It was Joel Benjamin.
Chapter Three
Daisy watched as Joel stepped inside and glanced warily around at the sound of the bell tinkling.
He stepped even more warily across the welcome mat and then – what seemed like minutes later – Daisy's heart, which had gone strangely still along with the air, began to beat again.
She hastily slid the tablet across to Michelle who put it under the counter.
Joel stopped, cast his gaze over the shelves of romantic fiction and quilting books and gave what looked very much like a shudder of repulsion. He was a man, Daisy told herself. Anything to do with emotion was bound to make him nauseous.
She gave him a quick scan and was drawn to his hair. Wild and ruffled. Maybe from the wind. Or perhaps he’d brushed his hands through it aimlessly while he sat at his desk and read Latin poetry.
He smiled at Daisy, narrowed his eyes again as he glanced around the shop and said, “Good morning.”
“Hi.” Daisy’s throat was dry and her mind was suddenly blank.
"Can we help?” Michelle asked.
"I hope so." He glanced at Michelle, at Daisy and back and forth a few more times as if trying to remember who was who.
His gaze settled on Daisy. "You're Poppy?"
Her heart plummeted. "Daisy. The shop is called Poppy's."
"Daisy." He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. "Thank you again for coming to the lecture the other night."
"It was amazing," Daisy gushed.
His eyebrows arched and she said, "Amazingly informative. I'm looking forward to seeing The Last Centurion when it comes out."
She thought he might have muttered something coarse but then he scratched his chin. She noticed he'd done that a bit at the lecture too. A habit for when he was deep in thought. She also noticed he still had stubble there although it looked new. Lionel had tried to grow a beard once and it had been very unattractive. On Joel though...
"I'm on the hunt for a present for Kate." He glanced around again, frowned. “I've never been in a shop like this. What do you recommend?”
“Well.” Breathe, she told herself, and remember, you’re in your element. Forget he's the most handsome man to set foot in the store ever and focus on what you do best.
She said, “You mentioned you were considering buying her some homemaking books?”
“Homemaking? Is that what you call it?” He looked out of h
is depth. “What exactly is that?"
“You have so come to the right place.” Her heart gave a flutter as it always did when she had a craft virgin in her store and was about to educate them.
"Come with me." She waved her hand in front of shelves filled with cooking, craft, interior decorating and gardening books. Of course, in a few weeks over half of them would be gone. She put her hand on her chest to calm her breaking heart.
"Are you okay?" he murmured warily.
"Yes. Ummm." Focus. “Kate was looking at knitting a few months ago.”
“My sister? Knitting? Ha! You have got to be kidding.”
Daisy understood his skepticism. Kate Rafferty was the last person you’d expect to see on a couch with a ball of wool.
Joel regarded Daisy with curiosity. “You knit yourself?”
“I knit and quilt and embroider and crochet and..."
His eyes widened. She rephrased, "I used to knit and... Everything." True, it had only been 24 hours since she’d made the decision to go cold turkey if she was to successfully focus on her new plan. In fact, she'd affirmed it over and over on the bus as she'd clutched Joel's book. Even the very thought of giving it all up left her with a sense of panic. There was a stunning floral fabric in the upholstery shop up the road and it would look divine as a slipcover on the two seater. And last week she’d received a flyer for a new quilting shop and they were doing a 25% special off their country-style bolts, and 20% off fat quarters with a Victorian theme.
No, she told herself sternly. No.
Joel said, "I thought only old people did this kind of stuff."
“It is true that many of my senior customers take up a craft due to mobility issues after they get their hips replaced."
His eyebrows rose alarmingly.
He leant across and pulled out a book from the shelf. The movement released a masculine scent that combined with a particularly delicious aftershave so potently Daisy wanted to lean right into him as close as she could get.
“That’s quite advanced,” she said, and she pulled out a book on cross stitch. “I think Kate would like this. Cross stitch is relaxing. It’s not too difficult, and you can start small so you have a finished piece in no time.” She flicked through the pages. “See this?” She pointed to a sampler. “This would be lovely to celebrate the baby. Kate could stitch in the birth date and the baby’s name and decorate it with the teddy bears." She sighed again at the little teddy bears in the picture. "Aren’t they gorgeous?”
Joel stared at them blankly. “I guess.”
She pulled another book from the shelf. “Patchwork is versatile with color and patterns and can be really quite inexpensive." She was about to tell him she made her own quilts and in fact had four she interchanged dependent on the seasons. She flipped through the pages instead. “This way Kate could accessorize the baby’s room with cushion covers, curtains and quilts. She could start off small with a nice patchwork blanket for a cot. Like these.” She pointed to a selection.
“Sounds good,” he said. “What do you reckon about the knitting?”
Daisy scanned the shelves and pulled down a beginner's book. “This is a great book. You don’t need to have ever picked up a needle. Knitting can be tricky but this starts off with really simple patterns like a scarf in plain and purl. The basic stitches,” she explained at his confused expression. “But there are some baby patterns in here. Cute bootie patterns.”
He took the book from her. Their fingers accidentally brushed and sparks shot up her arm. She grabbed another book. Concentrate, she urged as she focused on the cover. Think about sewing and needles and lambs wool and patterns.
“This is an all-round baby book with clothes patterns up to toddler age. Knitting and sewing. The patterns are at the back.”
He nodded, “Chuck it on the pile.” He glanced down at Daisy. “Your friend was right. You seem to be an expert on things domestic.”
“Me? Oh, I just–” She pulled herself up. Damn, it was hard to remember she’d sworn off certain things sometimes. "I just have an academic interest in the subject.”
“As well as ancient Rome?”
She found herself staring at his chin, momentarily unable to shift her gaze. She looked at his lips. His top lip was full and firm, his mouth partly open. Entirely kissable. No mushy lips or bad teeth.
"It is interesting," she said. "I never went to university so it is nice to be able to learn. Without studying."
"Nicely put," he grinned.
“I’ll gift wrap these for you.”
He handed them to her. “I’d appreciate that.”
He glanced across at Michelle, sitting at the counter apparently engrossed in Daisy’s book.
“You bought the book,” Joel commented with approval.
Michelle shot him a sly smile. "You recommended it.”
He pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket. “Did you get one too, Pop - I mean, Daisy?”
“I–” She narrowed her eyes at Michelle. “Yes. I did.”
“It can be heavy going in places. Was there any particular topic you were interested in, Michelle?”
“Um – aaah… Etruscan bake ware,” she said hastily.
His eyebrows arched. “Really?”
“Mmmm.” She beamed at Daisy. “Yeah. Really.”
He paid by platinum card, and Daisy packaged the books up in the blue and yellow Poppy’s for Books wrapping paper and added a catalogue.
“The catalogue expires a week from now," she told him. "And if there's any news on Kate's baby then do let me know. The Poppy’s staff would love to send flowers.”
“How many staff do you have?”
She glanced at Michelle. “Just the two of us.”
“Nice and intimate,” he said as he swooped up the package.
He nodded at Michelle, and at Daisy he said, “It was nice to meet you again.”
“You, too,” she said.
His gaze lingered a moment, Daisy's heart almost stopped beating, and then he gave one last amused look around her store and he was gone, the bell tinkling long after the door had shut behind him.
Michelle said, “That bell has got to go.”
Daisy took a deep breath, felt it hit the pit of her stomach.
She could still smell him. It was there in the air, part aftershave, part him, part goodness-knows-what-else. "We are so out of his league," Michelle sighed.
"Completely different stratosphere. He's in the one with adoring Ticking Clockers and that French actress." She bit her lip. "Did you detect a current there?"
"Of sexual magnetism?"
"More condescension." She waved her hand across her shelves. "It reminds me of school. The girls who took maths and science looked down on those of us who took food tech and computer skills."
"Don't be daft. He's not like that. He's not your ex husband. And anyhow." She reached under the counter for her tablet. "Are you still going to do it, apply to have an audition?"
"Yes. I think that God or someone is telling me something. Never thought I'd see the day."
Michelle looked suddenly hesitant. "Are you really sure? I mean, you just don't do crazy – two dud marriages excepted – and this is way out of your comfort zone. I'm going to feel really bad if this plan backfires."
"Oh, there's no plan. I'll do my best but that's all I can do. I can't sit on my butt waiting for life to throw me a bone on this one."
Michelle frowned. "I've never seen you so determined."
That's because she'd never had to be.
Daisy skimmed the FAQs again. "I'll fill out the form on line tonight. I need to give this a lot of thought. Not just rush gung ho in to it."
"Considering I only told you about it ten minutes ago, aren't you being a little gung ho as it is?"
"Probably," Daisy admitted. "But I've got nothing to lose if I get on the show."
And as she looked around the store it struck her, she had everything to lose if she didn't at least try to save Poppy's.
“I have an apology from the host and co producer of Mystery Date, Rob Rafferty. He won't be able to make it.” The woman wore a pale gray suit and she addressed the crowd of hopeful contestants apologetically. She had an immaculate blonde bob and wore large black-framed glasses and shoulder pads. Daisy put her in her late-40s and hoped shoulders pads weren't coming back in. Her mother still had dresses from the eighties and they were, frankly, hideous. “I’m afraid I’m it for today. Kelly Brown. Co-producer.”
She ran through the audition procedure and Daisy half-listened as she glanced discreetly at the people either side of her. Michelle should have been here but Michelle was in the second group auditioning tomorrow.
On Daisy's left was a woman. Mid-50s. On the other, a twenty-something guy who had either not brushed his teeth in a while or was suffering BO. He leaned her way and she discreetly sprang back.
Would Kelly Brown tell him he’d failed the audition because of it? Did the poor man even know? He grinned at her and she concluded he needed a dentist more than he did a woman.
She managed a polite smile, turned back to Kelly Brown and panicked. What on earth am I doing here? she asked herself for the hundredth time as her knuckles turned white gripping the strap of her bag.
The woman on the other side reached across and patted her hand. “You’ll do fine,” she murmured encouragingly.
Daisy glanced around. “How do you know that?”
“I just know.” Her voice was a whisper. “When I was living in the states back in the 90s I went on Blind Date in Baltimore. Won a trip to New York.”
Daisy's eyebrows arched.
“Had a wonderful time. Stayed at the Plaza with my date. Separate rooms, of course. I went to all the stores. Schwartz, Macys, Bloomingdales, Saks Fifth Avenue. Took a carriage ride around Central Park. I saw Woody Allen at a hotdog stand on my last day.”
“And your blind date?” Daisy pressed. “What happened to him?”
She shrugged. “He was all right. But there was no spark. When I first laid eyes on him there was no wow. You know what I think? That if there isn’t that spark when you’ve spent a minute with a man, it’s never going to work. No way is there going to be any happy ever after ‘cos you’ve gotta have that initial attraction. Otherwise, honey, don’t even bother pursuing it.” She smiled encouragingly. “You’re nice looking. How old are you? Forty?”
Second Chances Boxed Set: 7 Sweet & Sexy Romances in 1 Book Page 67