soon he was bound to notice exactly what it was that was different about her. She wasn’t ready for that, not right now, anyway. She needed more time.
Before she could respond, he continued, “I want you to do the flowers for the opening. Wildflowers, grasses, rustic—that kind of thing. Can you do it?”
“I’ll get my staff on to preparing some samples for you on Monday. I take it you’ll be around?”
His smile widened. “Oh, yes, I’ll be around. And your staff won’t be handling this for me. You will.”
“My staff are well trained and efficient—”
“But they’re not you—and I want you.”
His words hung in the air between them. She could feel them as if he’d actually reached out and touched her.
“You can’t have me,” she whispered.
“Can’t I? Hmm, that’s a darn shame,” he said. “Because then I’d have to take my business elsewhere.”
His words, so gently spoken, sent a spear of ice straight through her. It would take only a day for the news that she’d turned his business away to get through town. Less than that again before more people would follow his cue and take their business to other florists, as well. She’d fought long and hard to get a reputation as the leading florist in town and she wasn’t going to lose it just like that.
She bit the inside of her cheek as she swiftly considered her options. Well, option. She really had no other choice but to take his business. Refusing it, with the associated fallout when word got around that she’d turned down a Lassiter—well, it didn’t bear thinking about. However, the benefits would roll in pretty quickly when it was known that she’d done the flowers for the opening. There was nothing some of the better-heeled members of Cheyenne society loved more than following a trend set by the Lassiter family.
“I may be able to carve out a little time,” she hedged, not wanting him to see how easily he’d forced her to capitulate. “Do you have particular designs in mind?”
“Tell you what. Why don’t we discuss this further over dinner tonight.”
“I’m sorry, I have plans for tonight.” Plans that included a long soak with her feet in a tub filled with warm water and Epsom salts, followed by a home pedicure while she could still bend down and reach her toes. “Perhaps you could give me your contact number for while you’re here. I’ll call you when I’m free.”
He gave her a narrow-eyed glance, then lazily got to his feet, reached into his back pocket for his wallet and slid out a card. She went to take it, but he didn’t immediately let it go. Instead, he tugged it closer to his body, thereby tugging her a little closer, too.
“You’ll call me?”
“Of course. We’re closed tomorrow, but I’ll check my schedule on Monday and call you then.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” he said with a lazy wink and released the card.
She followed him from the office into the showroom. Even though she’d worked here since she was a teenager, she was still attuned to the sweet, luscious fragrance of the blooms she had on display. The various layers of scent filled the air with a strong feminine presence. A complete contrast to the powerful masculinity that was Dylan Lassiter.
Jenna held the front door to the store open for him.
“Thanks for stopping by,” she said as he stepped past her and onto the sidewalk.
Just as he did, a large delivery truck passed on the street. The subsequent whoosh of warm air hit her full on, the gust plastering her short-sleeved tunic against her body. Dylan didn’t miss a trick. His eyes drifted over the new fullness of her breasts, then lower, to where her waist had thickened, and to the gentle roundness of her tummy. He stared at her for what felt like an aeon before his eyes flicked upward to her face.
What she saw reflected back at her had the ability to nail her feet to the ground, right where she stood. She’d read about his convivial side, his laissez-faire attitude to life and his ability to continually land on his feet even as he eschewed traditional choices. Conversely, it was widely known that he was a perfectionist in the kitchen, which took a keen mind and grim determination.
The expression that he presented to her belonged to a different man entirely. This was the face of the CEO of the Lassiter Grill Corporation, not the playboy, not the one-time lover. No, this was the face of a man who had a question and, she thought with a shiver, would do whatever it took to get his answer.
“Looks like we have a bit more than just flowers to discuss. I think we’d best be having that dinner mighty soon, don’t you?”
He turned on the heel of his hand-tooled boot and strode toward a dark SUV parked a few spaces down the street. She couldn’t help but watch the lithe way his body moved. Jenna closed her eyes for a second but still his image burned there as if imprinted on her retinas. And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her time for keeping this baby a secret had well and truly passed.
Two
Dylan swung his SUV into the traffic and fought to control the anger that roiled inside him like a building head of thunderclouds.
She was pregnant. No wonder she’d been as skittish as one of Sage’s newborn foals when he’d arrived. He was probably the last person on earth she either expected, or wanted, to see.
His baby? The timing would be about right—unless she was the type of woman who indulged in casual assignations with just about any man she met. The thought made his stomach pitch uneasily. He needed to know for sure if their encounter had resulted in pregnancy. God, pregnancy. A kid of his own. And with her.
It wasn’t hard to recall how his eye had been drawn to her that cool March Friday. He’d wanted her, right there, right then.
He remembered his first sight of her as she flitted about like some exotic bird, her attention solely on the flower arrangements she’d designed for his sister, Angelica’s, wedding rehearsal dinner—a dinner that had ended before it began when his adoptive father, J.D., had collapsed with a fatal heart attack—for a wedding that had been called off, permanently now it seemed.
The building had been full of people doing what they did best, but Jenna stood out among them all in her jewel bright colors. An effervescent energy simply vibrated off her. Their initial banter had been fun and she’d given as good as she got. But the real craziness had started the moment he caught her hand in his and pulled her into an alcove where he kissed her, so he could see for himself if she tasted as intoxicating as he’d imagined.
She’d spun out of his arms the instant he’d loosened his hold on her but the imprint of her slight frame against his body had stayed with him through the course of the next hour, until he’d known that one kiss was definitely not enough. Satisfied the catering team in the kitchen knew what they were doing, he’d hunted Jenna down as she’d applied the finishing touches to the floral design she’d created for the entrance to the Cheyenne Depot—a historic railroad station that had been converted into a popular reception hall. Hunted her down and entrapped her in his arms for what he’d planned to be just one more kiss.
One more kiss had turned into a frenzy of need and they’d found their
