Bidding on Her Boss

She nodded. “Please.”

“I’m in the process of trying to rehabilitate my image.” He gave her half a smile, and she tried not to laugh at how adorable he looked now.

“From playboy to the future brother-in-law of a princess?”

He shifted his weight to his other leg. “Yeah, something like that.”

“So to stop people seeing you as a playboy, you auctioned yourself off to the highest bidder?” She jumped up to sit on the bench, enjoying his discomfort more than she would have expected, but also enjoying seeing this private side of him.

He coughed out a laugh. “Yeah, when you put it like that, it sounds crazy.”

Suddenly she was more than intrigued. This man was a mass of contradictions and she wanted to know more. To understand him. “Then how would you put it?”

“I’m throwing myself into our new charity. The auction was only the first step, but I’ll be involved every step of the way.”

“A respectable, upstanding member of the community.” She could see him pulling it off, too. Going from a playboy to a pillar of the community.

“So you can see that the very last thing I need is a scandal involving a staff member, especially given that we have a policy about management being involved with staff.”

A scandal? She frowned. What, exactly, did he think she wanted from those other two dates? “Dylan, I’m not expecting romance on the other dates any more than I expected it on this one.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “But image is everything.”

That was true. She cast her mind around for a solution. There was no way she was giving up her remaining dates without a fight. “What if no one knows? We could do them in secret.”

“That boat pretty much sailed when the auction was covered by the media,” he said and chuckled. Then he sobered and let out a long breath. “But it’s more than that.”

Understanding dawned. “Our kiss changed things.” She said the words softly, as if acknowledging the truth too loudly would make a difference.

He nodded, his gaze not wavering from her eyes. “And it’s very important that I see you only as an employee, and you see me only as a boss.”

“I won’t have any trouble with that. Are you saying you will?” She arched her eyebrow in challenge, guessing Dylan Hawke was a man who didn’t shrink from a challenge.

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “If you can do it, I can.”

“Then it looks like we don’t have a problem, do we?” Knowing he was trapped in the logic of it, she jumped down from the bench and grabbed the trash.

She felt him behind her, not moving, probably assessing his options. Then finally he took the trash can from her and began to sweep stem cuttings together with his free hand.

“It appears you’ve won this round, Faith Sixty-Three,” he said from beside her.

She flashed him a wry smile. “Dylan, if I’d won this round, my design would soon be featured in the catalog. All I’ve done is kept the door open for another round.”

“You know what?” he said, his voice amused. “Even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m already looking forward to the next round.”

She turned and caught his gaze, finding a potent mix of humor and heat there—something closer to the real man she’d glimpsed earlier. Quickly she turned away. This was going to be hard enough without seeing him as anything more than the head of the Hawke’s Blooms stores. And she had a sinking feeling it might already be too late for that anyway...

* * *

Two days later, Dylan pulled into the parking lot of the Santa Monica store. He hadn’t done an all-day inspection for a while. It used to be part of his management style—show up in the morning unannounced, hang around in the background and help out where he could. Nothing beat it for getting a good feel for how a store was working and what needed improvement.

He’d been meaning to start doing a couple of these a month, so his office staff hadn’t thought there was anything strange when he’d told them to clear his schedule for today. Of course, they weren’t to know what he was trying to deny to himself—that he hadn’t stopped thinking about one of the Santa Monica store’s employees since the moment he’d dropped her home that first night.

Under different circumstances, there was no question he’d ask her out. That kiss had been beyond amazing and had been on an automatic replay loop in his mind ever since, but he’d also enjoyed her company. He never knew what she was going to say or do next, and that made her fun to be around.

He sighed and stepped from his car. No use wasting energy wanting what he couldn’t have. She worked for him. End of story.

But that didn’t stop him from wondering how this particular store was doing. Despite rejecting Faith’s arrangement himself, he’d been left wondering if her manager was doing all she could for the advancement of her staff if Faith had put in twenty applications to the catalog of standard arrangements and not one had made it through to the head office.

Sure, he’d rejected the one he’d seen last night, but given Faith’s enthusiasm and skill, a good, supportive manager should have found a way to guide her toward a more appropriate arrangement by now. Perhaps even submitted one or two just to encourage her. Yes, it was definitely time he had a closer look at how this store—and the other stores—were doing.

As he stepped through the front door and removed his aviator sunglasses, the manager, Mary O’Donnell, looked up and waved enthusiastically.

“Mr. Hawke!” she called, her voice obsequious. “So good to see you. Here, Faith, take over this arrangement. I need to talk to Mr. Hawke.”

At the mention of his name, Faith froze, then looked up like a deer caught in headlights. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and he was assailed by memories of her mouth. Of how incredible it had felt under his. Of how it had opened to allow his tongue entry. Before he could forget all the reasons not to kiss her again, he determinedly drew his gaze to Mary O’Donnell.

“No need,” he said. “I’m here for the day. Don’t stop what you’re doing—I just want to get a feel for the store.”

“You haven’t done an all-day inspection for quite a while.” Mary shot a suspicious glance around the room. “Is there a problem?”

“Just continuing a procedure that worked well for us in the past. I’ve let it slip a bit as we’ve grown, but I’ll be working my way around to all the stores in the coming months.”

“And we’re first?” she asked, pride beaming from her features.

“Yes, you are.” He’d let her think it was a compliment. Plus, it was a much more professional reason than the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about one of her employees.

“Well, in that case, let me introduce you to the team.” She grabbed a middle-aged blonde woman by the wrist and dragged her over. “This is Courtney. She’s our senior florist. If you want any bouquets made to take home at the end of the day, Courtney’s your woman.”

“Good to meet you, Courtney,” he said, shaking her hand.

Courtney smiled openly. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Hawke. Though, if you don’t mind, I need to finish this order before the courier arrives in a few minutes?”

“Of course,” he said and watched her go back to work on one of the long benches. She seemed efficient and nice enough, and the arrangement she was working on was good.

“And this is our other florist, Faith Crawford,” the manager said, pointing in Faith’s direction. He watched the reactions of the other two women closely, checking to see if they knew Faith was the person who’d won the bid at the auction, but neither gave anything away. Interesting. Faith obviously hadn’t told them, and the company grapevine hadn’t caught up with the news yet. Most of the staff from the head office had been at the auction the other night, but even if they’d managed to get a good look at Faith in the dim light, it seemed none had recognized her.

He glanced over at her now. She had a bright yellow Hawke’s Blooms apron covering the halter top he could see peeking out from underneath. Her curly red hair was caught up in a clip on the top of her head. She looked up and he paused, waiting to see her reaction. Her eyes flicked to her manager, then back to him. He wasn’t comfortable with an outright lie to his employees—it was probable that the information would circulate around the company at some point, and he didn’t want to be caught in a lie—but that didn’t mean he had to share all the details of their short history.

“Ms. Crawford and I have met before,” he said as a compromise.

The manager’s eyes darted between them, looking for snippets of information, so he cut her off at the pass. “Do you have an apprentice in this store?”

“Oh, yes. Sharon. But she’s not in until lunchtime on Mondays.”

He nodded and took off his sport coat. Instead of his usual work attire of a business suit, today he’d worn a polo shirt and casual trousers—closer to the clothes the staff in-store wore. “Before she gets here, I’ll do the sweeping and answering the phone. Wherever you need an extra pair of hands.”

Unbidden, his gaze tracked to where Faith worked at her bench, and he found that she’d looked up at him at the same time. Wherever you need an extra pair of hands... He could still feel his hands in her hair, cupping her cheek, under her chin.