Head Over Heels for the Boss (Donovan Brothers) (11 page)

Though the decision was hers, he was setting the rules.

Chapter Ten

W
hen Isabelle walked into the office Monday morning, Devon tried not to look up to see what she was wearing, to see what kind of mood she was in. If he was going to have an affair with this woman—and he was; they were far too hot for each other not to take advantage of this good thing—then he had to separate the two relationships immediately. He had to do what he’d done on Friday. Wait until 5:01 before he even said anything flirty.

But when she stepped into his office and said, “Good morning,” he couldn’t very well ignore her. He looked up, saw the long length of her legs beneath the hem of the pretty pink dress she wore, and had to fight to hold back a compliment.

“Good morning.”

“I was wondering if you would have time this morning to go over some of my questions?”

There were lots of things he’d like to go over. The shiny pink fabric of the dress that hugged her curves without being too tight. The swing of her hair. Her long, long legs. But she had to be on the same page he was on. An affair only. No relationship. It might take some time to get her on board with that.

Part of the way he intended to bring her around to his way of thinking was to show her the line between business and pleasure. And he intended to be in control of both. “How about this afternoon?”

“Sorry. I have another wake.”

He gaped at her. “Somebody else died?”

She strolled a little closer to the desk, her shiny hair swaying. His fingers itched to touch it, but, once again, he stopped those thoughts.

“Yes. Harmony Hills might be a small town, but it’s not tiny. When you’ve got five thousand people, new babies are being born every week and somebody dies every week.”

He sucked in a breath. “Of course. I didn’t mean to sound so gruff. It’s just that with you still managing the flower shop, we seem to be running on your schedule not mine.” He leaned back to get a better look at her legs. “And I’m the boss.”

“You’re doing it again.”

He glanced up innocently. “What?”

“Looking at my legs.”

“It’s hard not to when they’re right in front of me.” Okay, that time he’d slipped up. If they didn’t do something about this attraction soon, he would make a fool of himself. Correction, bigger fool. He hated being this out of control. The discomfort of that forced him to focus.

“Have you had any response to the ad for help at Buds and Blossoms?”

“A few.”

He tapped his pencil on the desk. “Done any interviews?”

“I’ve been a little busy.”

She was driving him crazy with lust. He was overworking her. He tossed his pencil to his desk. “All right. Here’s the deal. Make some phone calls. Set up interviews. Put ads in the papers of nearby towns if you can’t get anybody from Harmony Hills. But get that florist shop staffed by the end of the week.”

“Okay.”

He felt marginally better. “Okay.”

I
sabelle left Devon’s office blowing her breath out on a long sigh. She understood what was happening. Accustomed to being totally in control, Devon didn’t like it when things didn’t happen on his timing. She’d say, “Well, too bad, deal with it…” Except she understood.

She’d never felt so out of control either. Normally, when she faced a difficult decision, she made two lists. One pros. One cons. But she didn’t have one decision. She had two. Move to Myrtle Beach with her parents. Or stay in Harmony Hills with Devon. Except, the decision Devon had put before her the night before, become his lover or…well, nothing…wasn’t as simple as it should be. The “number” of things on the pros list for just having an affair with him might not be as long as the things on the cons list, but they were weightier.

How could one quantify that surreal feeling she got when he touched her as if she were precious? How did one weigh longing? And shouldn’t it count for something that she’d waited years for him to notice her?

She went to work the next day in slacks and a dressy tee, a sparkling necklace nestled on the shirt’s neckline, her shoulder-length hair swaying when she walked, and high-heeled sandals that made her feel like a professional. But she still didn’t have a decision on whether or not she should have sex with him.

And with every day that passed, she got more confused and he got more tense.

“Have you hired anyone for the flower shop yet?” had now become his morning greeting.

She turned from her desk and walked into his office. Today she finally had an answer for him. “One of the Brats wants to run the register this summer. She likes the money.”

He sat back on his chair. “Is that good?”

“She’s a decent employee. I’m beginning to think her brother might be the only real Brat of the family.”

He smiled, but it was nothing like the real smiles he had been giving her the week before. And she wanted those smiles back. She wanted to hear about his life, his troubles.

She walked a little farther into the office. “So how are things with your mom?”

“The same.”

She laughed. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“So I take it you haven’t found a manager for the shop yet?”

“No, but I did notice that you changed the subject.”

“Because we’re at work. We’re both falling behind. Staffing that flower shop has to be our focus.” He held her gaze. “Everything else is out of play in these rooms. Understood?”

Disappointment tightened her chest. “Yes.”

“What’s the problem with finding the manager?”

She nodded, glancing at the chair, wishing she could sit and really discuss this, but realizing that option wasn’t open to her. At work, he worked. If she wanted to talk to the other Devon, it would be outside of work.

“I think you were right. We might have to widen our search. Advertise in papers beyond the nearby towns.”

“Okay, get that done today.”

She nodded and walked out of the room, knowing this would be the mood of her job from here on out. Not because Devon would withhold his friendship if she didn’t sleep with him, but because he drew lines. She’d know only professional Devon here. If she wanted to talk to nice guy Devon, it wouldn’t be here. But she’d probably never see the two of them in the same room again.

T
he private investigator Devon hired on Saturday had a preliminary report for him late Friday afternoon. Bob’s life couldn’t be any cleaner if he shined it with Windex every morning.

Not pleased, Devon sat back in his chair and told the PI to keep digging. To dig in those places where nasty things can hide. Then he hung up the phone.

Just when he would have gone to Isabelle’s office to tell her about the call, his mother breezed in, holding two chunks of fabric.

“Ellie took me to a dress shop in Pittsburgh.” She waved a pale pink swath at Isabelle. “The dress made of this material is scrumptious.” She displayed the dove gray. “This one isn’t quite as pretty, but I think the color is more dignified.”

Isabelle glanced from the samples to his mom. “How can pink be undignified?”

“People might think it’s too young of a color.”

Isabelle laughed. “To heck with what people think. Besides, with your skin tones I’m guessing the pink is perfect.”

Ellie strolled in. “I told her that.”

Piper walked in behind her. “So did I.”

Devon fell to his desk chair. Maybe it was a good thing his mom had popped in again. He’d been close to breaking his new cardinal rule—no personal conversations at work. He’d made himself perfectly clear the day before and Isabelle had complied. He should be glad his mom had stopped him.

Piper said, “Get on the phone. Order the pink. Tell them we’ll be there tomorrow for fittings.”

Isabelle asked, “What are you guys wearing?”

“Well, that’s just it,” his mom said. “With me in pink, I thought it would be nice for the girls to be in ivory.”

“Ivory,” Isabelle said dreamily. “Oh, I can see it. You’ll be in pink. They’ll be in ivory. And we’ll have bouquets filled with color for the girls and white roses for you.”

Ellie sighed. Piper gasped. His mother said, “It’s perfect.”

Devon squirmed on his chair. Having his mother in the next room talking about her wedding just reminded him of how close it was. How close his mother was to marrying a man who might be all wrong for her. A man who might ruin their family.

The desire to talk to Isabelle rose in him again. Not to get help. Not because he thought she had answers. But just to have someone listen to him, talk things out with him, make him feel he wasn’t insane for worrying.

His mom pulled her phone from her pocket. “Okay, I’m calling about the dress now. Piper, you go into the kitchen and get that margarita mix from the fridge. There’s tequila in the bar in the family room.”

Ellie said, “Even though I can’t drink, I’ll get that. And I’ll be everybody’s designated driver.”

The trio trooped out, but his mom stopped suddenly.

“Come on, Isabelle. Your work day is done. Have a drink with us. We made some serious decisions today. We deserve a break.”

She rose and followed them. But at the door, she paused and turned. “G’night, Devon,” she said, politely, like a good employee.

“Good night.”

For about ten seconds he was proud of himself for resisting the urge to ask her to stay, not to go with his mom, but stay and talk to him. But in the eleventh second, he decided that sucked. He might be her boss, but they’d become fast friends and he needed somebody to talk to.

Worse, he was ruining his own plan. How the hell did he intend for Isabelle to change her mind about sleeping with him when they never talked because they never saw each other outside these office walls?

He needed a new plan. Actually, he needed to see her. Maybe he should start with that.

He waited more than an hour, until he heard Ellie herding Isabelle and Piper up the hall and out the front door, before he rose from his desk and headed for the patio where his mom sat on a chaise, margarita in hand, silly grin on her face. The sun had set. Crickets chirped. He loved that about living in the country.

He bent down and kissed her cheek. “I’m going out for a while.”

“Oh Devon, I’m sorry! I forgot all about dinner.”

“I’m a grown man, Mom. I can get dinner. Besides, it looked like you were having fun.”

She beamed. “We were.”

“And it’s nice to have the patio get some use.”

“I told you that two people would never use all the space in this big house.”

“I wanted to make sure I had enough room for offices.”

“Yeah, and as a result we have a patio the size of Ohio.” She took a long breath. “This house is too big.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t even feel like a home. Bob’s house is a home.” She smiled and faced Devon. “It’s like a cute little cottage. He downsized after his wife died. So he’s got just enough space for two people. It’s cozy.”

“Well, our place could be cozy if we had people over more often.”

“I could do a girls’ night every Friday night.”

“You better ask Finn and Cade before you schedule it.”

She laughed as Devon fished his keys out of his pants pocket.

“Where are you going?”

He tossed the keys in the air and caught them. “Out to see a friend.”

“That’s good. Just don’t drink and drive.”

“Right. See you later.”

He drove into town, stopping at the diner to buy two hamburgers and fries before he turned down Maple Street. As he had the first time he came to Isabelle’s parents’ house, he hid his SUV, a vehicle a little less recognizable than his Porsche, three houses up, across the street, in a parking space surrounded by trees and bushes.

Taking the bag of food, he got out of the car, walked across the street, and headed to the Cooper house, where lights blazed in the windows of both floors of the sturdy, dependable two-story house. Glad she didn’t have a porch light on, he sneaked across the front yard, illuminated only by thin light from the big living room window, and walked up the steps of the back porch.

The door was unlocked, so he walked in calling, “Isabelle? Are you here?”

She leaned around the kitchen entryway. “In here.”

“You don’t have the fireplace on, do you?”

She laughed. “No. I’m looking for something to eat.” Seeing the bag in his hand she stopped. “Oh, I hope that’s food.”

“Hamburgers from the diner.”

“I think I love you.”

Time froze. Her gaze leaped to his.

She grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that literally. I’m just hungry.”

“No, it’s fine.” But he had the weird desire to pull his collar away from his throat again. On the heels of that came the desire to turn and run. His dad had told his mom that he loved her every day when he left for work. He’d kiss her cheek and walk out the door as if they were the happiest family in the world. It was such a lie that the very words themselves made his skin crawl.

He cleared his throat and said, “No worries,” even though every fiber of his being hummed with the weird feeling. The memories. The very reason he didn’t believe in love.

She got plates and silverware and the partial bottle of wine from last Friday night. He began to set things up on the breakfast bar, but she nudged her head toward the living room. “My back hurts. I’m tired. I think I’d like a comfy seat.”

He agreed. They carted everything to the glass coffee table and started eating.

“So your mom’s decided on her dress.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

She peeked over at him. “The wedding plans have been going on around you for two weeks without a peep. Why are you suddenly mad again?”

“I’m not mad. I’m just concerned.” His mom had made the wrong choice of spouse when she married his dad. Very, very wrong. It cut him to the core to think she could be wrong again. It was the first time he’d let himself actually have the thought. Up to now he’d been telling himself he was worried that Bob wanted their money. But worry that Bob might be an abuser had been hovering in his subconscious. And he’d hinted when he talked with Finn and Cade about hiring the PI. He feared for his mom. Really feared the consequences of making a mistake, because he’d lived those consequences with her.

“The deeper my mom gets into this wedding, the harder it’s going to be if my PI digs up something about Bob.”