Bidding on Her Boss Page 12

  “Oh, I meant to say—” Dylan’s mother turned to him “—Jenna was looking for you. She wanted you to meet a journalist before you go up on stage. You go and find her and I’ll keep Faith company.”

  Dylan looked from one woman to the other, uncomfortable about leaving them together but not completely sure why. He looked down at Faith and she patted his arm. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  He released her elbow and threaded his way through the crowd, restricting himself to only one last look back over his shoulder.

  * * *

  Faith watched Dylan walk away with the same wrench in her chest that she always felt when he left.

  Women stopped him constantly, sometimes with a hand on his forearm, sometimes by putting themselves in his path. Even from a distance, she could tell he was charming them and then moving on.

  “He’s good with people,” his mother said from beside her. “They like him.”

  “Yes,” Faith said, turning back to face Andrea with a polite smile. “They do.”

  “Interesting thing is, his brothers are easier to read than he is. It might look as if Dylan is more open than them, but he manages to keep more of himself hidden. He wears a mask of openness, which tricks people, if that makes sense.”

  Faith thought about conversations they’d had and the hidden depths he’d revealed. “It does make sense.”

  “Although he seems different with you,” Andrea said casually, and then took a sip of her wine.

  Butterflies leapt to life in Faith’s belly. First Adam and now their mother—what was it with Dylan’s family fishing for information? “You only saw us together for about ten seconds,” she said, matching the other woman’s casual tone.

  Andrea waved the objection away with a flick of her wrist. “A mother can read between the lines. Also, I know my son, and his face is different when he speaks about you.”

  “He speaks about me?” Faith asked before she could think better of it.

  Andrea grinned. “He’s mentioned you a few times when giving me an update on this launch and your work with the Ruby Iris.”

  Faith could see the expectation in the other woman’s eyes, the excitement that her son had found someone to settle down with. But it wouldn’t be her, and that hurt more than she could let on.

  She took a breath and chose her words carefully to ensure there was no misunderstanding. “I feel I need to tell you that nothing is going to happen between Dylan and me.”

  “Huh, that’s funny. I seem to remember hearing the same story from Liam and Jenna a while ago.” Her expression said Andrea wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Is this because you work for him?”

  “Yes, partly. But it’s more than that.” Would a woman with a loving, close family even understand Faith’s issues with love if she told her? Regardless, this was Dylan’s mother, and it was up to him to share the parts of his life with her that he wanted.

  “I’ll leave it alone, then.” Andrea looked up at the stage, where the tech guys were switching on microphones and getting ready. “I think the speeches are about to start.”

  Faith turned so that she could see the stage, her eyes easily finding Dylan in the group. He glanced up and caught her watching him, a slow smile spreading across his face. Then Jenna tapped him on the shoulder and he turned away.

  “Nope,” Andrea whispered. “Nothing going on between you two at all.”

  Faith bit down on her lip to stop the smile and watched the stage. Jenna began by welcoming everyone and gave the crowd a short history of the new flower. When she was done, Liam took the microphone and spoke of his vision in creating the Ruby Iris. Then he handed the microphone to Dylan.

  Faith drank him in as he stood tall and confident at the center of the stage, but with that mask of openness, which made it seem he was sharing something with the people gathered. He was a natural, and even before he spoke, the audience was responding to him.

  “Hi, everyone,” he said, giving them his charmer smile. “I’m Dylan Hawke and I’d like to say a few words on behalf of the Hawke’s Blooms stores. We’re looking forward to working with this new flower—we think our customers will be excited to have it in their bouquets, and I know our florists are keen to create arrangements that people will love.”

  He walked a few steps along the stage, ensuring he was including the entire audience in his gaze. “I’d like to thank everyone who’s played a part in bringing the Ruby Iris to this point, but I’d especially like to thank one of our florists, Faith Crawford, for working behind the scenes and creating these stunning arrangements we have in the room tonight. Faith, can you come up here for a moment?”

  He shielded his eyes from the spotlight with the hand that still held the microphone, then raised his other hand in her direction as a round of applause flowed through the room.

  Faith’s pulse jumped. She hadn’t expected this, but she was touched that he’d think to mention her. His mother gave her a little prod, and Faith began making her way through the crowd until she reached the two steps that led up to the small stage. Dylan reached out to steady her and moved to the side to join in the clapping.

  Faith looked out over the crowd and, although the majority of people were strangers, they were smiling at her with approval. They liked her work. She’d achieved another step in her career plan—she’d reached a large group of people with her designs. She’d made them smile. She caught Dylan’s gaze and mouthed, “Thank you.” He nodded, his eyes sparkling.

  Giving Faith’s arm a little squeeze on the way past, Jenna took the microphone from Dylan and wound up the proceedings. As the music started again and the people on the stage descended to the ballroom floor, Faith was still on cloud nine. So when Dylan said, “Dance with me,” she didn’t hesitate.

  He took her hand and led her out onto the small dance floor, where a few couples were moving to the music, and then pulled her into his arms. The clean scent of him surrounded her, and she wanted nothing more than to lean into him, to lose herself in his heat. Would she ever be able to be near him and react as if he was any other man? Or would he always have this power over her?

  She needed to get her mind onto a normal topic of conversation. She cast around for an idea, then remembered that Jenna had wanted him to talk to someone earlier. “How did it go with the journalist?”

  “He was from the same morning show as the woman outside. I’ve made an appointment to see them both tomorrow, so cross your fingers for me.”

  “I will.” Though she was sure he wouldn’t need it. Everything Dylan touched turned to gold. Except her—when he touched her, she turned to flames.

  His hand on her back traced a path up, then down, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake. Faith hesitated. “Should we be doing this?”

  “It’s a date—our last one—and people dance on dates.” He pulled her a couple of inches closer. “Besides, there are hundreds of people here. We’re in no danger.”

  “It feels dangerous.” Which was possibly the understatement of the night.

  “I’ll admit that it’s lucky I have that limo waiting outside to take you home.” His Adam’s apple slowly bobbed up and down. “I don’t think I could kiss you on your cheek at the door and leave tonight.”

  She couldn’t imagine letting him walk away from her door tonight, either. In fact, she was starting to think she would have just as much trouble leaving him here and getting into the limo.

  “Speaking of the limo,” she paused, moistening her lips, “I’m thinking it’s probably time I went home.”

  “Now?” he said, coming to a standstill in the middle of the dance floor. “We haven’t been here that long.”

  In some ways, any amount of time on this date was always going to be too long, especially now when they were touching again.

  She drew in a breath, pretending this wasn’t going to wr
ench her in two. “I was here for the speeches, I saw my arrangements in the ballroom full of people and I’ve danced with the most eligible bachelor in the room. What more could the night possibly bring?”

  He grinned and his eyes sparkled with promise. “More dancing with that eligible bachelor.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”

  He chuckled. “Fair call.”

  The music segued from one song to another, which seemed like a natural place to end things. She stepped back, away from the circle of his arms. “Thank you for tonight. You’ve made it magical.”

  “You brought the magic,” he said, his voice low.

  It was too much. Being this close to him, knowing she couldn’t have him, was too much. She couldn’t breathe. She turned and wove her way through the crowd until she reached the door and could fill her lungs again. Dylan followed and spoke to the doorman. Within moments, the limo had pulled up in front of the door, and with a last chaste but lingering kiss on his cheek, she slipped into the backseat and left the launch—left him—behind.

  Ten

  Faith sat bolt upright on the studio sofa, waiting for The Morning Show to start again after the ad break. Her palms were sweaty—a combination of the hot lights and a case of nerves that just might kill her—so she tried to wipe them discreetly on her skirt.

  “Hey,” Dylan said beside her. “Are you all right?”

  “Well, I’ve forgotten my name. Will that be a problem?”

  He chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down on her back. “They have your name written on the autocue for the host, so that doesn’t matter. Just tell me you remember how to arrange flowers.”

  “I can do that in my sleep.” Then she winced as she imagined herself fumbling. “Well, as long as I don’t drop the flowers with my sweaty hands.”

  A man wearing a microphone headpiece waved an arm. “And we’re back in three...two...one...”

  The host, Lee Cassidy, a woman in her early thirties with black hair pulled tightly back from her face, scooted back into the seat at the last moment and smiled at the camera. “We have a treat for you now. Dylan Hawke, one of the brothers behind the Hawke’s Blooms, and head of their hugely successful chain of florist stores, is here in the studio to tell us about a brand-new flower they launched a couple of days ago, the Ruby Iris. And he’s brought along one of his florists, Faith Crawford.” The host turned to them and smiled her megawatt smile again. “Welcome to the show. How are you both this morning?”

  Dylan looked at Faith, giving her the chance to speak first. She opened her mouth to reply but no words came out. She closed her mouth, swallowed and tried again. Nothing. Prickles crawled across her skin.

  Dylan smoothly picked up the ball. “We’re both great, thanks, Lee. In fact, we’re still buzzing after the launch of the Ruby Iris on the weekend. It was quite a night.”

  “It sounds as if it was fabulous.” The host turned to the camera, giving her viewers the full benefit of her smile. “In fact, we have some photos.”

  The big screen behind them suddenly flashed with images from the night, including one of Faith taking Dylan’s hand as she stepped up onto the stage. She was gazing up at him with her heart in her eyes. Would anyone else recognize that? Would Dylan be able to read that expression?

  “So, Faith,” Lee said, “tell me why you love the Ruby Iris so much. What’s special about this new flower?”

  Faith steeled herself. She had to answer this time. She needed words. Any words would do. “Well, Lee, it’s red.”

  Lee raised her eyebrows as if to say, Is that really what you want to go with?

  Dylan leaned forward. “Of course, there are many red flowers, but there haven’t been any red irises before now.” He nodded at Faith, encouraging her to pick up the thought and run with it.

  “That’s true,” she said, aware she was probably speaking too fast, but at least her vocal cords were working now. “The most popular iris has been the traditional purple, and a customer favorite is the white, and there has been pink—”

  “Okay,” Lee said cutting her off, “how about you show us more about this flower. We have a few things over here waiting for you.”

  “I’d love to,” Faith said, relieved she could finally do something she was comfortable with instead of mindlessly listing flower colors.

  The guy with the microphone headpiece waved at her to stand and pointed to the counter he’d shown her earlier. Lee followed him over, and the cameras panned to track their progress.

  Faith stood behind a gleaming white counter with all the flowers and tools they’d brought along with them neatly laid out, and sent up a silent prayer that she didn’t mess this up. Hawke’s Blooms was counting on her. Dylan was counting on her.

  Lee was at her side. “What are you going to make for us today?”

  Faith’s nerves were rising, threatening to take over; she tried to breathe through it, but it wasn’t working. Then Dylan appeared at her other elbow and passed her a single white carnation. Faith took the flower, and the moment it was in her hand, she relaxed. She could do this.

  As she trimmed the base of the stalk, she smiled at Lee. “I’m doing a simple arrangement that anyone at home could try. I’m going to use the Ruby Iris, but you can substitute your favorite flower—say, daffodils or tulips.”

  For the next few minutes, she worked on the arrangement, bringing the vision in her mind to life, giving a couple of easy jobs to Lee to do so the segment was more interesting.

  When Faith was done, Lee called Dylan back into the shot and thanked them both for coming in. Then the guy with the headphones told them they were on an ad break. Lee rushed back to the sofa to be ready for the next segment, a girl with a ponytail guided Dylan and Faith off the set and within minutes, they were in Dylan’s car.

  Faith blinked. It was over. She’d made her first-ever TV appearance and it had consisted of her freezing and generally messing it up. Her head was still spinning.

  “I’m so sorry, Dylan,” she said as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  He started the car and glanced over at her. “What for?”

  “You worked so hard to get that segment and I ruined it.”

  “You were great,” he said cheerfully as he leaned over and squeezed her knee. She’d never met someone as skilled at manipulating the truth. If she hadn’t been in the studio herself to see the train wreck, she might have believed him.

  She raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned. “Okay, so you stumbled a couple of times, but your demonstration was great. You were professional, yet you explained things in ways the viewers would understand, and your love for your work shone through.”

  “I’ve let Hawke’s Blooms down,” she said, trying not to grimace as she said it. She didn’t want pity. She wanted to apologize. “Let you down.”

  “Hey, you did us proud.” Before he could say anything else, his cell phone rang in its cradle on the dashboard and he thumbed the Talk button. “Dylan Hawke.”

  “Dylan, it’s Ben Matthews from The Morning Show. Thanks again for coming on today.”

  “Thank you for inviting us.” Dylan pulled out to overtake a car without missing a beat in the conversation. “Anytime you want someone from Hawke’s Blooms back, let us know.”

  “I was hoping you’d feel that way. I’ve just been talking to a producer from our network office in San Diego. I’d asked them to watch out for your segment today and they were impressed.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Dylan said, sliding Faith a grin.

  “They’ve been considering a weekly gardening segment, but now they’re interested in making it about flowers instead. Maybe how to arrange them, keeping them alive longer, that sort of stuff. What would you think about Hawke’s Blooms doing that segment? If it goes well, we could talk about other guest spots o
n our LA show then.”

  Dylan squeezed the steering wheel harder, but his voice remained easygoing. “We’d be very interested in doing that, Ben.”

  “There’s only one condition they’ve laid down. You need to have that woman from today’s segment as the florist. Our social media went crazy for her when she was on air.”

  Faith gasped and then covered her mouth with her hand in case Ben could hear her in the background. The producers had liked her enough to make her involvement a condition? It was surreal. And people watching had liked her enough to comment about her?

  “I’ll talk to her and let you know,” Dylan said.

  “Well, talk quickly. They want you down there for tomorrow’s show. You’ll need to be in the studio by five a.m.”

  “I’ll get back to you within the hour.” Dylan ended the call and threw Faith a grin. “I guess you didn’t ruin it.”

  “They want me,” she said, the awe she felt coming out in her voice.

  He laughed. “They sure do. What do you think? Interested?”

  “Absolutely.” This was the biggest thing ever to happen in her career—in her life—and nothing could make her let the opportunity pass.

  “Then we’d better start making plans.” He turned into her street. “I’ll ring Ben Matthews back and work out the details. I’ll also have my personal assistant book us flights and rooms in San Diego for tonight. We’ll catch a late flight down and one back after the show in the morning.”

  His voice had been so calm, planning the details it would take to get them there, that at first she missed the significance of what he’d said. Then it hit her.

  “A hotel?” she said as she wrapped one arm around herself. “Us?”

  Gaze still on the road, he nodded. “They want us on set at five a.m., and I don’t want to take any chances on delays. It would be much better if we’re already in town.”

  “But we agreed...” She let her words trail off, wondering if she was making too big a deal out of this since he didn’t seem worried at all.