Winning Her Love

The bell on the door tinkled, and Vanessa’s head snapped up. No matter how she felt on a particular day, the merry sound always cheered her and made her smile. But when she saw who had entered her shop, her lips drooped into a frown.

In his entire term in office, Mayor Langston had never once set foot in her store. Why now? she wondered, her eyes narrowing.

He shut the door, looked about the room and wrinkled his nose.

Didn’t the man like flowers? she thought with dismay, watching him walk toward her.

She regarded him coolly while at the same time trying not to gawk. She had to admit that despite what she thought and felt about his politics, Gregory was as breathtaking as a drive down the Pacific coast.

His skin, burnished an even deeper brown from the California sun, held not a bit of shine. He wore a dark gray suit that looked as if it had leaped from the hanger right onto him. It was so clean and perfectly tailored. And though she knew he wasn’t much older than she was, he oozed the wisdom and class of powerful men twice her age.

Mrs. Barnell, the widowed owner of Bay Point Bed & Breakfast, was at the counter fussing over her daily floral arrangement. She always had a fresh bouquet in the foyer of her establishment, and even though Vanessa offered to deliver it right to her door, she insisted on picking it up herself. Vanessa suspected the woman was lonely.

“These California poppies are just gorgeous, don’t you think?”

Vanessa barely heard Mrs. Barnell’s question, so focused was she on Gregory, who was now standing a foot or so behind the elderly woman.

He swept the hat from his head, a careless gesture that also managed to seem purposeful at the same time. It made her knees feel brittle, even though she was standing perfectly straight, and she grasped the edge of the counter to maintain her balance.

“I agree. Utterly gorgeous.”

Vanessa parted her lips in shock. Instinctively, she knew that hidden in Gregory’s seemingly offhand response was something meant to be discovered by her alone, though she had no way of proving it. In the confines of the small room, his deep bass seemed like a hum, both sustaining and drawing energy, and the vibrations from his tone played low and pleasurably in her belly.

His hazel eyes held hers in a way he had no right to do, and a buzz of heat rose in her cheeks. She discreetly swallowed and her insides lit up, kindled by his intense gaze. It was clear that his comment had nothing to do with California poppies and, strangely, everything to do with her.

Mrs. Barnell turned and her mouth dropped open. “Mayor Langston! I was so busy fooling with these flowers that I didn’t hear you come in,” she gushed, her smile warm and genuine.

Vanessa’s heart beat faster as Gregory approached the counter. He rested one palm on the glass, not too far from her hand, and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, ladies.”

“No need to apologize, Mayor,” Mrs. Barnell insisted brightly. She patted her silver-laden black hair. The style, though outdated, was attractive on her and reminded Vanessa of an ’80s soap opera where the women were catty and mean.

But Mrs. Barnell wasn’t anything like those characters. She was softhearted and kind. Still, her face virtually beamed in the presence of Bay Point’s most esteemed political official. It made Vanessa want to gag.

“Right, dear?”

She forced a tight smile. “Absolutely not. What can I do for you, Mayor? As you can see, I’m with a customer.”

Vanessa hated to sound so impersonal. Maisie was more than a customer; she was a good friend. But for some reason, she found it exasperating that Maisie was being so nice to the mayor, that she was being the only person she knew how to be. Didn’t the woman realize he was trying to destroy Bay Point?

Gregory smiled, his teeth gleaming white and perfect behind lips that held untold secrets.

“I need an arrangement, and I know you’re the best florist in town.”

Vanessa ignored the flush of heat that spawned in her cheeks and began tying a large purple gingham bow around the vase in front of her. In addition to California poppies, the bouquet held a collection of white roses, baby’s breath and leafy sprigs of fresh ferns. She inhaled lightly—the fragrance seemed to infuse her troubled spirit.

So he didn’t like flowers, but he wanted a bouquet for someone else. She hoped that Maisie, who was often nosy, would inquire who the lucky woman was. But to her disappointment, she didn’t.

“As long as it’s not like mine,” Mrs. Barnell insisted. “Vanessa makes these special for me, and they’re different every day. She is truly a gifted artist.”

Vanessa felt Gregory’s eyes trace the length of her shoulder-length dark brown hair. Goose pimples broke out on her arms under his careful inspection. She’d recently splurged at the salon and had her stylist add golden-brown highlights. She loved her new look. When he lifted his brow slightly, she knew he did, too. That pleased her, although she didn’t know why, and she almost smiled with satisfaction.

He laid his fedora on the counter, stirring the air just enough to softly tickle the fine hairs on her arms.

“I agree, Mrs. Barnell—she’s one of Bay Point’s greatest treasures.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes again slightly and tightened the bow with a dull snap.

Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t we, Mayor?

There was an awkward pause, and it seemed as though Gregory wanted to say more. His towering presence so close to her, with only the counter between them, was distracting in a way she didn’t understand.

Vanessa sniffed lightly. Unless her sensitive nose was failing her at the moment, Gregory seemed to be wearing no cologne, and she almost sighed with relief. The musk of male skin was far more pleasing and would require a more careful inspection of him than discreetness would allow. She blushed at the thought, and the glass felt oddly warm against her lower abdomen as she braced herself against it.

Yet Mrs. Barnell didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong, and Vanessa was grateful when she slipped her purse over one arm. She turned and regarded Vanessa.

“That’s beautiful, dear. I’ll be on my way now.”

Maisie’s toffee-colored skin was a striking contrast to the milky-white vase as she clasped her veined hands around it.

“Need any help with that?” Gregory offered.

Mrs. Barnell shook her head. “These flowers and the walk I take every day to get here are the reasons I’m still active. After my husband, Frank, died...”

Her voice faded away, and she seemed lost in her thoughts. A few seconds later, she straightened her shoulders and looked Gregory up and down.

“It’s a shame you’re not married.”

Vanessa’s mouth dropped open slightly at Mrs. Barnell’s remark.

Anyone overhearing the conversation and who didn’t know her would probably think Maisie was just some old busybody handing out commentary nobody wanted to hear on matters that were none of her business.

But Vanessa knew better. The woman was the unofficial matriarch of Bay Point. Locals deemed anything she said either wacky or wise. Despite her eccentric personality, Mrs. Barnell was well respected in the community.

Gregory dropped his hands and smiled patiently, as if he wasn’t at all shocked at her question.

“Right now I think the town needs me more than I need a wife.”

Mrs. Barnell nodded. “That we do, Mayor,” she agreed, a trace of wistfulness in her voice. She glanced down at the flowers. “But without love, even the most beautiful things can wither away and die.”

Vanessa stepped around the counter and said nothing, refusing to let the old woman’s words infiltrate her heart. She knew what it was like to live without love, and she was surviving just fine. It was when she was in love that she felt as if she were dying.

As she guided Maisie the short distance to the door, Gregory followed, as though he were afraid neither woman would make it. While she appreciated his consideration, it felt like an imposition, too. She wasn’t used to a man like him looking out for her, at least not without wanting something in return.

She kept her eyes focused on the store window, where the name of her beloved shop, Blooms in Paradise, was gracefully scripted in frosted white letters on the glass. She opened the front door and a mildly warm breeze, tinged around the edges with the chill of an impending storm, rushed into the room.

“It looks and feels like it’s going to rain any second,” said Mrs. Barnell, her teeth chattering slightly. “I’d better hurry.”