Edible (6 page)

“Oh, fine.” Jane told him slightly exasperated, and stepped back across the room to place her hands on the desk. “In the six years I have worked for you, not once have you asked me to get you a woman’s phone number.”

Cole looked up at his paralegal. He was about to deny that statement wholeheartedly, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to lie, so instead, he shut his mouth.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” She smirked again.

“There is no secret, Jane. Maybe I just want to order some flowers.”

Straightening, Jane adjusted her glasses again and then wiped her hands down her prim skirt. “I’m sure that’s all there is to it, Mr. Madison.”

Arching his brow, he shook his head. “I think you are placating me, Jane.”

Jane spun on her heel and made her way to his door. She opened it and then turned back to him with a smile. “And I think you are omitting the truth, Mr. Madison.”

Chuckling, Cole conceded, “Perhaps, Jane, perhaps.”

“I’ll have the number for you as soon as I locate it,” she told him. “So you can order those flowers.” She gave him a huge I’m-on-to-you grin before she turned and closed the door behind her.

Damn perceptive woman.
With a grin of his own, Cole opened the first envelope on his desk, conveniently pushing aside any thoughts of Becky.

“Mr. McClusky, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t go out for coffee with customers,” Rachel said to the little old man standing on the opposite side of the cash register. “Even the charming ones.”

“One day, young lady, you will change your mind.”

Mr. McClusky had been stopping by every week since Rachel had reopened the store. One morning, he had come in and told her a wonderful story about how his wife loved fresh flowers in the house. So, every week, he would show up and buy her a bouquet of bright blooms. The man was full of interesting stories, and he was an incorrigible flirt. If Rachel had to guess, she’d place him mid seventies.

“And what would Mrs. McClusky have to say about that? Hmm?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about her, Rainbow. She doesn’t have to know you took an old man out for coffee.”

Laughing at the nickname he had given her, Rachel handed him the large bouquet. “But I would know, and I just wouldn’t feel right.”

“Well, at least tell an old man something fun. What color is next week?” he asked, gesturing to the blue tips that were curled over her shoulders this morning.

Rachel cocked her hip and placed a hand on it, pretending to think it over carefully. “You know what? I haven’t thought about it yet. Any suggestions?”

She had to hold back a full-on giggle as the old man in the green tweed coat looked her over very seriously.

“Red. I see you with red.”

Rachel thought about that for a moment as she walked around the counter toward the man she now absolutely adored.

“Red, huh? That’s bold.”

With a mischievous grin, he held out the crook of his arm to her. Rachel couldn’t help the wink she gave him as she slipped her arm through his. He patted her hand as they walked toward the front door.

“Don’t try and tell me you aren’t an outgoing young lady. I see that twinkle in your eye.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Yes, missy, I do. My Clara has that twinkle, too.”

Stopping at the front door, Rachel reached out and twisted the handle. When she pulled it open, the bells chimed above. She leaned down and laid a gentle kiss on the man’s cheek. “Well, I will take that as a compliment. Your Clara is a very lucky lady.”

“So, red?” he suggested again as he let go of her arm. He made it down two steps and then turned back to look at her standing in the doorway.

Rachel nodded and waved. “Come back next week, and see for yourself.”

“I think you just asked me on a date.”

As he turned and pushed his free hand into his pocket, Rachel couldn’t help the warmth that spread in her chest.
Incorrigible indeed
.

Making her way back into the shop, she headed over to the counter where Tulip was lying beside her laptop. She now kept it handy for orders and to update the website she had designed for the store. This morning, she had placed an ad for some part-time help, providing her email address and the shop’s phone number for applicants.

Clicking open her inbox, she was happy to see she had received six emails since the ad had been posted two and a half hours ago.
Good. Maybe I’ll find some half-decent help
, she thought as she opened the first inquiry.

Bonnie Sampson. Work experience: McDonald’s and babysitting. Education: high school diploma, currently enrolled at Midwestern University. Looking for morning part-time position.

Okay, so that one could work, but I really needed an afternoon person
, Rachel thought as she closed it and moved to the second email on the list.

Kate O’Neal. Work experience: O’Malley’s Pub. Education: high school diploma, currently attending the University of Chicago. Looking for a part-time job in the afternoons.

This one looks like a good possibility as well
, she thought.
So far, so good.

She wrote down two numbers on her notepad. Rachel clicked on the next message, and she was about to read it when the shop phone started to ring. Minimizing the screen, she answered the phone with the usual greeting.

“Precious Petals. This is Rachel. How can I help you?”

You can come to my office, and let me take off all your clothes
, Cole thought as he stood. He stared out the large window in his office as Rachel’s smooth voice flowed through the phone.

When he didn’t say anything, she repeated, “Hello? Can I help you?”

“Hi. I’m here. I’m actually calling about the ad that’s posted online.”

“Oh yes, the part-time position.”

Cole imagined her smiling. It was an expression he had seen a couple of times although it had never been directed at him.

Not really believing his ridiculous behavior, Cole almost hung up until her voice came through the phone again.

“You’re the first guy to call about it actually. Huh, I didn’t expect that—a guy working in a flower shop.”

“Excuse me?” Cole questioned, not knowing if she expected an answer.

“Oh, nothing. I’m sorry. Of course, the job is open to both males and females. I’m in no way sexist.”

Biting back a laugh, Cole found himself enjoying her rambling for the moment. “Well, that’s good. I might have had to call a lawyer.”

“Ugh. Don’t do that. I can’t stand lawyers,” she admitted good-naturedly.

That interested Cole immensely. Turning his chair to face the window, he sat down and leaned back, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You don’t like lawyers? Why’s that? Bad experience?”

Rachel seemed to forget that he was a potential employee candidate as she began to talk his ear off. “Well, they always turn up at such horrible times, don’t they? Divorces, accidents, deaths.” Her voice faded out, but then she muttered, “Reading of wills.”

Cole could understand her aversion, but it would make it that much harder to get her in his bed.

“I’m sorry! You’re calling about the job, and here I am, going on about something not even remotely related.”

“Yes, about the job, I’m wondering if the position has been filled yet. Or can I come in for an interview?”

There was a pause, and he wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn he heard her whisper, “Tulip!”

“Yes. I mean, no. No, the position hasn’t been filled, and yes, you can come by for an interview.”

Cole wasn’t sure why he was so surprised she was all over the place. From the beginning, he’d known she was anything but ordinary, and that was one of the reasons he was so intrigued. Another was the fact that she tried to contain all her wild energy whenever she turned up at that club.

He thought she needed to be free, free to be
this
woman on the other end of the phone. She could be free to be all over the place as long as she had someone like him there to anchor her and pull her back in when needed.

“I need a name first,” she pointed out and waited.

Shit
. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“C.J.,” he told her, giving his first and middle initials. He could hear her moving around, and he presumed she was writing it down.

“C.J.?”

Last name
.
She needs my last name.
Well, I hope she doesn’t know it, or if she does, I hope she doesn’t put it together.

“Madison,” Cole said, waiting for an accusation to be hurled through the phone.

Instead, she just said, “Okay C.J., when do you think you can stop by?”

“Today?” he asked without any thought or hesitation.

She’s so close.
She was so close to being right where he wanted her—in a room alone with him.

“Today?” she repeated back, like she hadn’t expected him to come by so soon. “Umm…well, it depends on what time you’re thinking. I have to be downtown by seven tonight. Do you think you could stop by here around four?”

Cole felt a self-satisfied smirk cross his face. “Yes. I am positive I can be there by four...Mrs.?”

Rachel laughed loudly at that. “Oh no, please. I’m not married. You can call me Rachel.”

Oh, I plan to call it—when I’m deep inside you while you’re screaming
my
name.

“Okay, Rachel, I will see you at four. Is the address on the website correct?”

“Yep, all the info is correct.”

“I’ll see you at four then.”

“Yes, I will be there. See you soon.”

After disconnecting the call and placing his phone on the desk, Cole wondered just how congenial Rachel would be when he arrived as one C.J. Madison.

Three fifty rolled around quicker than Rachel had expected. She was happy to have several interviews lined up throughout the week. Right now, she needed to step into the back room and do a quick touch-up on her makeup since her four o’clock would be here any moment.

Well, she hoped he would be punctual. After all, it would show he gave a shit.
Oh hell
, she thought, realizing that had sounded very much like Cole. She groaned at the thought that he was rubbing off on her in any way.

In the small bathroom, Rachel looked herself over in the mirror. Fluffing what was left of her black curls, she pouted at her reflection. She pulled out her cherry red lip-gloss from her pocket and slicked her lips. Just as she decided that she was happy with the result, the bells from above the front door chimed.
Yes
, she thought as her blue eyes stared back at her,
this is presentable for an interview
.
Time to go and meet the potential lifesaver.

She wiped her hands on the red apron looped over her neck and tied around her waist. She turned and made her way up the back aisle to the front of the shop. As she walked through the doorway between the two areas, she came to a complete stop as her eyes connected with broad shoulders covered by a black wool coat.

No, no, no!
Rachel’s mind screamed.
It can’t be him. He hasn’t turned around yet, so maybe there is a slight possibility—oh hell, who am I kidding? I’d know that rigid backbone anywhere.