“I’ll move mine into my office,” Hope said. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” He sneezed again, and he had to move his cup as far away from his body as possible to prevent his coffee from spilling over.
“I’ll put mine in the conference room,” Skyler offered. Then she ruined it. “If I have to.”
“I’ll soldier on,” Tony said, his watery eyes showing his fortitude. After another sneeze, he grabbed one of the doughnuts that he’d said he didn’t eat, then sought refuge in his office.
Hope and Skyler exchanged shrugs. “Poor thing.” Hope cast her glance toward his now closed door.
“I had no idea,” Skyler responded.
Hope scooped up her bouquet and carried it to the credenza in her office.
Skyler walked into the office. “You forgot this.” She held up Hope’s mug. Instead of leaving, she plonked herself down in a chair.
“Do you mind?”
“I know who they’re from. It was the same delivery company.” With a cheeky grin, Skyler put down Hope’s cup, then settled back to sip her own.
“Fine.” Hope snatched up the envelope and slid her finger under the flap. What can dinner hurt? “As you suspected, Rafe,” she informed Skyler. “Just like yours, a thank-you for our efforts.” The explanation was half right, but the lie was bitter.
“Tell me what happened after I left last night.”
“Nothing.”
Skyler raised one of her pencil-enhanced eyebrows. For a second, Hope considered continuing the fib. Then again, if she did go to the Parthenon, she would need Skyler’s help in covering her Saturday-night fundraiser. Giving just enough information, she drew a breath and admitted, “He invited me to go away with him this weekend.”
“No shit?” Her assistant leaned forward and slipped her drink onto the desk. “Are you going? Spending time with McHottie? Heir to one of the world’s biggest fortunes? Oh my God.” She fanned herself. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Wait a sainted second.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair.
Hope could almost see Skyler start to join the puzzle pieces together. “You’re the woman he was talking about last night.” She phrased it as a statement, rather than a question. “That’s why none of the others were suitable. Damn, Hope. Are you going? You’ve got to go.”
She was making Hope dizzy.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“What the hell is there to think about?”
She laughed. Put that way, what was there to think about? “I have a ticket to an event on Saturday night. A charity dinner and silent auction fundraiser at the Ivy for a pet adoption group.”
“No worries. I’ll go. I had a date and the rat-fink punk canceled on me. It’ll do me good to get out rather than staying home and feeling sorry for myself.”
Hope saw through Skyler’s brave smile. Her heart was generous, and she’d spent years taking care of others, investing herself in relationships, sometimes at great emotional cost. Hope frowned.
“I promise I would say something if it was a problem.”
“I’d need to leave late Friday morning.”
“Shouldn’t be anything that I can’t handle.”
When Hope remained silent, Skyler pursed her lips. “What’s really going on?”
“I’m not his type.”
“Well, he must think you are if he invited you along after you spent the night at his place.”
Don’t remind me. “It’s…complicated.” She didn’t have the courage to admit he’d also proposed.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to?” Skyler’s stared. “Oh.” She tugged on her braid. “The whole BDSM thing?”
“That’s part of it.” When Skyler didn’t fill in the silence, Hope took a drink of the coffee she still needed. “I don’t fit in his world.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Why would it be? You do fit his profile. What would happen if you stopped doubting yourself? Would a weekend away be so bad? I mean, you’d find out more, right? About him. About you. Then you’d have more information.” Skyler nodded, as if she’d reached a decision. “Consider it a fact-finding mission. You can decide after it whether or not dating would be a good idea. It will help you decide.”
The front door opened. “Delivery for Hope Malloy!”
“Again?”
“How much money is in petty cash?” Skyler asked. “I can’t continue to fund your suitor’s flat-out romantic assault.”
“Potential suitor,” Hope contradicted, more out of obligation than anything. She didn’t, however, correct the romantic-assault part.
“Right.” Skyler stood. “Potential suitor.” She headed for the door, then glanced back. “Conference room for these?”
Since the previous day’s bouquet was still there, Hope said, “Let’s donate them to the doctor’s office next door.”
Skyler nodded. “Oh, and I’ll want all the details on Monday morning.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“May I help you, sir?”
Exhaling his gratitude, Rafe turned toward the clerk. Christ, he hoped so. “I had no idea it would be so difficult.” Rafe had pictured getting out of the car, strolling into Uptown Flower Power, selecting a nice arrangement, then walking back out. Instead, the small, stuffed-to-the-ceiling store overwhelmed him. There were tulips and sunflowers and little purple blooms. Tiered circular displays held potted plants. Bamboo. Cactuses. Five-foot-tall trees.
Mylar balloons floated everywhere. Get well. Happy birthday. Congratulations. Then there were the characters from movies and cartoons. Superheroes and princesses.
Perplexed, he wandered to one of the multiple refrigerators filled with cut flowers in all kinds of vases—large, some shaped like baby carriages, in pink, blue, even yellow. There was a glass container shaped like heart. The biggest refrigerator held roses. Red, yellow, white, pale pink, from a single tight bloom in a tiny vase to one holding thirty red roses in a bowl big enough that it should have fish swimming in it. For a moment he considered purchasing it. All those thorns…
“Is this your first visit to a flower shop?”
Her lime-green apron was so glaringly bright that he had trouble making out her features. “Am I that obvious?”
The clerk grinned. Instead of answering his question, she said, “Let’s start with the basics. What’s the occasion?”
Seduction. Convincing a woman to marry me and submit to my authority.
“Anniversary?”
He shook his head.
“Birthday?”
“No. I just want something…nice.”
“How nice? Are they for an apology?”
Again, he said no. “Something nice for the table. I’m making dinner. For someone special.” He continued to look around. Who the hell guessed it could be this complicated?
“Ah! Date night.”
A date? Rafe didn’t go on dates. “You could say that,” he allowed.
“Does she like any specific color?”
No idea. Then he thought of her handbag. “Pink.” Then the shoes she’d worn to the event last night.
As if she dealt with this kind of confusion all day long, the clerk came around the counter. “Does she prefer brights or pastels?”
If he knew the answer to that, he wouldn’t need help. “Yes.”
She smiled. “Where are you dining? Inside? On a patio?”
He hadn’t even considered the options. He’d assumed they’d eat at the kitchen island. But that wasn’t romantic. “Can you excuse me a moment?”
“Uhm. Sure.”
He stepped off to the side to send a message to his housekeeper, hoping she hadn’t left yet, asking her to set the dining room table for two.
Sienna replied that she’d already done so.
And the outside table.
A moment later, she replied that he should consider it done.
“How about both?” he said when he returned to the clerk. His cell phone danced around
in his pocket, and while he waited for her to gather all the things required, he checked the message.
And you’re having chocolate cake for dessert. With whipped cream. It goes on the cake, Mr. Sterling.
He grinned. Sienna had earned a bonus, and he made a mental note to add one to her next check.
After twenty minutes, he ended up with two custom-designed arrangements, one a bunch of yellow tulips that had shocking red stripes. They reminded him of Hope. The other hourglass-shaped vase was stuffed full with bright colors, including hot pink. The clerk had placed the bouquets in boxes so they would survive the journey to his condo, and she helped him carry them to the car.
“Good luck tonight. I’m sure she’ll love them.”
The thought that she might not unnerved him.
Before he drove away, he checked the time. He still had forty minutes. He’d wanted to pick Hope up from work, but she’d said she had a late meeting with a potential new client and promised to arrive no later than seven.
It had taken her hours to agree to have dinner with him. He’d given her references to women who had submitted to him at the Retreat, and he’d suggested she discuss her concerns with Celeste. He knew she’d done so, because Celeste had mentioned it in a phone call.
Rafe hadn’t contacted Hope until this morning, holding off as long as he was able. He’d been awake for over two hours before he’d given in and sent a text, inviting her to a casual dinner at his home. There had been nothing casual about the nerves he faced during the interminable hours while he’d waited for her answer.
Now, in his condo, he placed the bright flower arrangement on the indoor table and the tulips outside. He stepped back. Against the iron table, they didn’t stand out, so he switched the vases. Then he shrugged. Who the hell knew it was this complicated?
By the time Hope rang the bell, he had the champagne on ice, the steaks out of the refrigerator, and the flowers where they belonged.
As always, the sight of her walloped his solar plexus. Her hair floated around her shoulders, which would save him the effort of plucking out another clip. She wore a purple sheath dress that ended midthigh, and she had on cream-colored heels—pumps, he supposed they were called. Tonight she’d selected a strand of pearls that fit like a choker. Had that been deliberate? “You’re stunning as always, Hope.” Betraying nerves, her knuckles were white where she clutched the handles of her kitty purse. “Come in. Please.” He stepped back. “A glass of champagne?” he offered after he’d closed the door and she’d placed her bag on the bench.
“Really?”
“We’re not playing. At least not until much later.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head.
Dare he hope she was disappointed?
“In that case, yes. Please.” She followed him into the dining room. “The table is pretty.”
Sienna had done a superb job as usual, setting two places with beautiful china that he didn’t know he owned, cloth napkins folded in the shape of crowns in the middle of the plates, filled water glasses. She’d set up a coffee service on the bar next to where he’d chilled the wine.
After removing the wire cage, he uncorked the bottle to pour them each a glass.
“I could get used to this,” she confessed, accepting the drink.
He’d like that. “The evening has cooled a little. Mind coming outside while I cook the steaks?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
She followed him out the door and continued walking until she reached the edge of the balcony. Remnants of the sunset inked the sky. A few intrepid people splashed in the swimming pool below and a couple was out for a power walk.
“So relaxing.”
Joining her, he nodded his agreement. He could count the times he’d sat on the patio. Now he wondered why.
Rafe savored her pleasure. This wasn’t about chemistry or commitment; it was the other C. Compatibility. He liked her company.
They touched the edges of their glasses and watched the remainder of the sun fade. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished. I missed lunch. And I had a latte to hold me over. It wore off a couple of hours ago.”
“In that case, I’ll get the steaks going and bring out a snack. Make yourself comfortable.”
He put down his glass, then ignited the flame on the barbecue. “I’ll be right back.” For a moment he looked at her, appreciating the way she enjoyed the evening. Shaking his head, he went back inside to grab the vegetable-and-dip plate.
When he returned, Hope faced him, propping an elbow on the railing. “I just realized you set two tables.”
“I wasn’t sure whether you preferred to dine inside or out.”
“You think of everything.”
“I wish I could take credit for it. It was all Sienna.”
“Everything is perfect.” Hope walked across the patio to select a carrot that she dipped into the dressing. “You’ll have to tell her she did a nice job with the flowers.”
Stupidly relieved, he grinned. “Those were my doing.”
“Yours? Even the tulips?”
He couldn’t tell whether or not approval laced her tone. His answer was cautious. “Yes.”
“They’re my favorite.” She took a bite of the carrot before putting it down and narrowing her eyes. “Did you ask Skyler?”
“I promise. No.” He held up a hand as if under oath. “The color and the stripes of red reminded me of your ass.”
And now, with the way she blushed, her cheeks.
“They’re beautiful. And thank you for thinking of Skyler too.”
“Anyone who worked that hard for me to reject the candidates deserves more than a bouquet.”
“We ended up giving one of the arrangements to a doctor’s office. And Tony is allergic to something, so Skyler and I had to run ours home. Then Skyler went to the drugstore for antihistamines. While we were away, he ate all the doughnuts I’d taken in, and that caused some tension in the office.”
He winced.
“It also turns out the Colonel likes the baby’s breath. In the time that I made a couple of phone calls, she pulled them and dragged them all over the apartment. Kitchen. Laundry room. Bedroom. Under the couch.”
He winced. “Sorry.”
“Will you please stop sending flowers?”
“Certainly. I don’t want to distress your employees.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll send you sex toys instead.”
Her hand trembled, and champagne splashed in the glass. “That’s a joke, right?”
“Would you prefer them delivered to your home or your office?”
“I can’t tell whether or not you’re serious.”
“The grill’s ready.” Whistling, he left her to put the steaks on. “Do you mind grabbing the baked potatoes from the oven? There’s an oven mitt on the counter and a platter to put them on.”
“Rafe… I mean it. No gifts.”
“Vibrating panties are my favorite.”
She fingered one of her pearls. Did she have any idea how perfect a response that was?
He flipped up the lid on the barbecue grill. “We have butter and sour cream in the refrigerator. Will you get those as well? Assuming you want to dine al fresco. If not, you can put them on the dining room table.”
“Outside is fine.” But she didn’t move.
“How would you like your steak?”
After a few seconds, she pursed her lips. “Medium.”
“Baked potatoes,” he prompted.
“You’re impossible.” She put down her champagne, then strode from the patio, her heels thumping the tile in a way that made him think of heart-pounding sex.
Yeah. He definitely enjoyed her company. The thought made him wonder where the line between chemistry and compatibility was drawn.
Over dinner on the patio, he kept the conversation light, asking about her day.
“I got a contract from the gentleman I met with earlier this week.”
He offered a
toast with his glass.
“Thanks.” She did a little shimmy on her chair. “It doesn’t get old. I still get the same kind of rush that I did when I signed my first agreement. Skyler’s already planning the mixer for next week.”
“I’m curious how you became a matchmaker.”
“You mean other than wanting to stick my nose in other people’s business?”
“Ouch.” He winced at her thrust. She had a good memory. “That round goes to you.”
She leaned toward him. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”
“I’m competitive,” he conceded.
“Now I’m curious. What’s the score?”
“Three to one.”
“I’ve got to know who’s ahead.”
“As you can see, it’s rather close.”
She laughed. “That has to mean I’m ahead. Otherwise you’d be gloating.”
Her enthusiasm lit something inside him that he hadn’t realized was dormant. “It pains me to admit you’re winning.”
“I’m so celebrating my victory!” She raised her glass high, cheering for herself.
“No one likes a sore winner.”
“Of course they do. Everyone enjoys watching the underdog emerge victorious. See?” She shook her shoulders, and he shook his head.
“You’re rubbing it in.”
“Why keep score if you’re not going to high-five or eat a chocolate doughnut when you win?”
“The game isn’t over.”
She gave a fake shudder, then grinned, despite the growled warning woven through his words. “I’m feeling pretty confident in my abilities, Mr. Sterling.”
“I hope that saves you, Ms. Malloy…” Because he couldn’t help himself, he pushed back his chair, stood, then cupped her elbow and guided her up.
“What are you going to do?” she asked with a mock-scandalized tone while she clutched at her pearls.
More and more, he was falling for her. “I do believe I’m going to kiss you.”
“What will the neighbors say?” But she didn’t check whether anyone could, indeed, see them.
“I think they will say I’m one lucky bastard.” He pulled her onto her tiptoes. Rafe started the kiss with as much tenderness as he was capable of.
Billionaire's Matchmaker (Titans) Page 18