Bidding on Her Boss Read online

  She grabbed a clip from her handbag and pulled her hair back. “I want you to spend the evening here with me.”

  “Doing what, exactly?” he asked as he watched her clip her red curls, which burst out the top of the clasp in copper-colored chaos.

  “Watching.”

  He felt his eyebrows lift. “I have to warn you, kinky propositions still fall under the no fraternization policy.”

  Faith rolled her eyes, but he saw the corners of her mouth twitch. “I’ll be making a floral arrangement.”

  Right. As if he didn’t get enough of that in his average day. And yet, he thought, glancing at her pale, long fingers, there was something appealing about the idea of watching Faith at work. Her fingers looked as if they’d be gentle yet firm. He could almost feel them on his jaw, then stroking across his shoulders. His skin tingled...and he realized he was getting carried away. This was not a path he could take with an employee—which he’d only just explained to her.

  Besides, his attraction was probably a result of being in the store at night, alone, cocooned in the area illuminated by the lights. It couldn’t be more.

  He rubbed a hand down his face. “Let me get this straight. I know what you’re earning, so unless you have a trust fund, your bid was a decent amount of money to you. Yet you paid it to have me sit and watch you do the job that we normally pay you to do.”

  She beamed at him. “That’s it.”

  “I’ve missed something,” he said, tilting his head to the side. She was becoming more intriguing by the minute.

  She opened the fridge door and pulled out buckets of peonies, lilacs and magnolias. “Have you ever had a dream, Mr. Hawke? Something that was all yours and made you smile when you thought about it?”

  Dylan frowned. His career dreams had always been for Hawke’s Blooms, but they were dreams he shared with his family. Had he ever had one that was his alone?

  “Sure,” he said casually, knowing it was probably a lie and unsure how he felt about that.

  While looking at him, she began to strip the leaves from the flower stems. “Then you know how it is.”

  As he took in the glow on her face, his pulse picked up speed. “What’s your dream, Faith?”

  She smiled mysteriously. “I have many dreams, but there’s one in particular I’m trying to achieve now.”

  He met her gaze and the room faded away. He could have looked at her all night. Then her eyes darkened. Her breathing became irregular. Dylan wanted to groan. She felt the chemistry between them as well. His body responded to the knowledge, tightening, heating. But he couldn’t let that happen. This was dangerous. He frowned and swung away.

  “Tell me about the dream,” he said when he turned back around, this time more in control of himself.

  After a beat, Faith gave a small nod. “To open the Hawke’s Blooms catalog and see one of my designs there on the page.”

  This was all about the catalog? He leaned back against the bench opposite the one Faith was working on and crossed his ankles. “We have a procedure in place for that.”

  “I know it by heart,” she said, taking foam and a white tray down from the shelf. “‘Any Hawke’s Blooms florist may submit an original floral design to his or her manager, accompanied by a completed, signed application form. If the manager believes the design has merit, she or he will pass it to the head office to be considered for inclusion in the catalog of standard floral designs used for customer orders.’”

  Dylan smiled. She’d recited the procedure word for word. “And,” he added, “that process doesn’t cost a single penny. Why didn’t you go that route?”

  “I did.” She clipped the bottoms from a bunch of peony stems. “About twenty times, in fact. After my manager rejected number sixteen, I began to think that way might not work for me.” She smiled and her dimples showed.

  He thought about her manager, Mary O’Donnell. Mary was simpering to management, which was annoying, but he knew she ran a tight ship. Was it possible she was blocking her own staff from advancement? “Are you making a complaint about your manager?” he asked, serious.

  She shook her head, and her hands slowed to a stop as she met his gaze. “I’m a good florist, Mr. Hawke. I take pride in my work, and take direction from my manager. I do my best by our customers and have a good group of regulars who ask for me by name. So I don’t think it’s too much to ask to have just one of my designs considered so I can move my career forward.”

  Dylan knew he was lucky—he’d grown up in the family business, where his input had been not only listened to but also encouraged. But what if he’d been in Faith’s shoes? An employee of a large company who was struggling to have her voice heard. He watched her place flowers in the foam, turning the arrangement with the other hand as she went. He’d like to think he’d have gone the extra mile, the way Faith was doing tonight.

  “So you decided to get creative,” he said, hearing the trace of admiration in his own voice.

  “Seeing you were auctioning off a night of your time seemed like a sign.” She glanced up at him, her long-lashed eyes earnest. “Do you believe in destiny, Mr. Hawke?”

  “Can’t say it’s something I’ve ever paid much attention to,” he said. Unlike, say, the way the side of her jaw sloped down to her neck, or the sprinkling of pale ginger freckles across her nose.

  “Well, I do, and I’d just been thinking ‘If only I could speak to someone in the head office myself’ when the posters for the auction went up in the window. The very window where I work.” She paused, moistening her lips. “You can see it was too strong a sign to ignore, can’t you?”

  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to chuckle or to kiss those full lips her tongue had darted over. Instead, he murmured, “I suppose so.”

  “So I attended the auction, used a good portion of my savings, and here we are.” She splayed her free hand to emphasize her point, and then picked up a roll of ribbon and went back to what she was doing.

  Dylan shifted his weight. Something about this situation and her confidence was beginning to make him uncomfortable. After she’d spent that amount of money—which he’d reimburse now that he knew she was an employee trying to get a meeting with him—and she’d gone to this much effort, how would she react if he agreed with her manager?

  “Tell me, Faith,” he said carefully. “What happens if, after all this effort and expense, I don’t like your design enough to put it in the catalog?”

  She looked him in the eye again. There was no artifice, no game playing in her deep brown gaze. “Then I’ll know I’ve given it my best shot, and I’ll work harder to create an even better design.”

  Dylan nodded. She believed in herself but didn’t have a sense of entitlement and was prepared to put in the work to improve her situation. He liked her attitude. In fact, there were a number of things he liked about Faith Crawford—including things he shouldn’t allow himself to like now that he knew she worked for him. Such as the crazy hair that his fingers were itching to explore, and the way her sweet-shaped mouth moved as she spoke.

  There was also a vibrancy about her that dragged his gaze back every time he looked away. How would it feel to hold all that vibrancy in his arms? Her kisses would be filled with passion, he just knew it, and in his bed... Dylan held back a groan and determinedly refocused on Faith’s floristry skills.

  Her movements were quick and economical but still flowed, almost as if her hands were dancing. He’d had a stab at displaying flowers in the past but hadn’t pulled off more than rudimentary arrangements. It had been enough for the roadside stall his family had started the business with but hadn’t come close to what a florist with training and flair could create. Yet having been around professional florists for his entire adult life, he was good at spotting skill in someone else.

  He could already tell that Faith didn’t just have the train
ing all florists employed by Hawke’s Blooms stores required. She also had that indefinable, creative something that differentiated the great from the good. Whether she’d harnessed that talent, and was able to use it to create designs of the standard needed to be included in the catalog, was yet to be seen.

  But if nothing else, tonight Faith Crawford had achieved one thing she’d set out to achieve—she definitely had his full attention.

  In fact, he was having trouble looking anywhere but at her.

  * * *

  Faith added another peony to the arrangement and tried to ignore the prickles on the back of her neck that told her Dylan was watching her again. Of course, that’s what the whole night had been engineered to achieve, but he was only sometimes following what her hands were doing. At other times...

  Heat rose in her belly as she thought about the way he’d been staring at her mouth a few minutes ago. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her with that much hunger. Especially a man she’d been wanting to wrap herself around and kiss as if there was no tomorrow ever since he’d stepped out of his sex-on-wheels car.

  And that it had to be Dylan Hawke, the CEO of the company? Well, that was fate playing a cruel joke on her. So she pretended that she wasn’t wildly attracted to the man in front of her and that he wasn’t sending her the same signals. She focused on the flowers. Which was working out fairly well, except for the prickles on the back of her neck.

  But she needed to concentrate, to stop letting herself be distracted. Ruthlessly she reminded herself of what was at stake: getting this right could mean a fantastic boost to her career. She turned the arrangement with quick flicks of her wrist, checking for symmetry. Just a few stray leaves to trim. She snipped them away carefully. It looked good, balanced in color and form...but was it special enough to go into the catalog? She’d controlled her wilder artistic urges and gone for a safer conservative arrangement to impress. Butterflies fluttered mercilessly in her stomach. For the first time, she realized how much Mary’s criticism had dented her confidence in her creativity.

  She reached out to touch a crisp green leaf. This arrangement was finished—but still she hesitated.

  “All done?”

  She jolted at the sound of Dylan’s voice so close to her ear. Last time she’d been aware of him, he’d been on the other side of the bench. She tried to move to the side. Her foot caught on something and she felt herself begin to fall. A hand closed around her arm, and her almost certain tumble was averted. She closed her eyes, and then opened them to find Dylan staring at her. The picture of him on the company website was nothing like the living, breathing man before her.

  With him so close, no more than a hand span away, his scent surrounded her. It was dark and mysterious, surprising. She’d have expected something lighter, more recognizable, perhaps one of the expensive name-brand colognes. Yet this had undertones of a night in the forest—earthy, secretive and alluring. A shiver ran down her body to her toes. Dylan stilled.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat from his body reaching out to envelop her. The world receded around her and all she could see, all she could feel, was Dylan. His eyes darkened and she swallowed hard. She should step away, not let her body lead her into temptation. But, oh, what temptation this man was. She could feel her pulse thundering at the base of her throat and saw Dylan’s gaze drop to observe the same thing.

  “Faith,” he murmured, his breathing uneven.

  She closed her eyes, fighting the effect of hearing her name on his lips, and when she opened them again, he was closer than before, his breath fanning over her face. Her hands found their way to his chest, so solid and warm.

  A shudder ran down his body at her touch.

  “Please—” she said, and before she could finish the thought his mouth was on hers. A small part of her mind told her to pull away, but instead, her hands fisted in his shirt, not letting him go.

  He groaned as she opened her mouth to him, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close while pushing her back against the workbench. His tongue was like nothing else as it stroked along the side of hers, leaving her wanting more. To be closer. So much closer.

  She was lost.

  Two

  As Dylan drew away, Faith tried to catch her breath. It seemed as if he was doing the same. Except she wasn’t sure she’d ever get her breath back again—that kiss was unlike anything she’d experienced before. In fact, if she just leaned forward a little, she could experience it again...

  And then the enormity of the situation hit her, sending her knees wobbling.

  She’d just kissed her boss.

  No, not her boss—the big boss. She’d just kissed the man with ultimate responsibility for every single Hawke’s Blooms store.

  Or he’d kissed her—she wasn’t sure about the details of what had just happened. All she knew was she’d never been kissed with that much hunger. That much passion. That much mind-numbing skill. That it had been her employer, someone she shouldn’t have been kissing in the first place, was a cruel twist of irony. If she’d screwed up her well-ordered plan or caused him to not take her seriously, she’d never forgive herself.

  “Faith,” he said, his voice a rasp. “I’m sorry. That was completely out of line.”

  Honesty compelled her to point out the truth. “You weren’t there alone.”

  “But I’m the one who’s the boss.” He winced. “It’s my responsibility not to cross the damn line. You shouldn’t feel pressured or uncomfortable in your workplace, and I apologize.”

  “I don’t feel uncomfortable. Well,” she amended, looking down at her hands, “I didn’t feel uncomfortable or pressured then. I guess I’m uncomfortable now.” She glanced back up, meeting his wary gaze. “But you should know, I wanted to kiss you. Then.”

  His head tilted to the side. “But not now?”

  “No.” Which was a lie. She definitely wanted to kiss him again. Wanted it more than almost anything. The key was the almost. She wanted a flourishing career more than she wanted to kiss Dylan Hawke again.

  He blew out a breath. “That’s a relief, but it’s not enough. It was selfish of me to kiss you when you wanted me here for a completely different purpose. I give you my word it won’t happen again.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said, trying to conjure a professional facade.

  He was silent for a couple of beats, his gaze assessing. “You seem quite certain, considering you just said you’d wanted me to kiss you only a few minutes ago.”

  She wasn’t sure where he was coming from—it didn’t look like flirting, but she couldn’t read him well enough to know. Maybe he was testing her, wanting to ensure she wasn’t going to change her mind and make waves in the company. Whatever it was about, she had to be absolutely clear so he understood her position.

  She drew in a breath and lifted her chin. “Boyfriends and lovers aren’t hard to come by, Mr. Hawke. What I need more than a man is someone to appreciate my talent. I hope this isn’t offensive, but I want you professionally more than personally.”

  He flashed her a self-deprecating smile. “Understood. Which means I’d better have a look at this arrangement.”

  She stood back to give him some room. Everything she’d done recently, from making the plan to attending the auction to spending most of her savings to meeting Dylan here tonight, had led to this moment. It was the do-or-die moment, and all she could do was step back, cross her fingers and hope he’d still give an honest assessment after he’d kissed her.

  Dylan dug his hands in his pockets as he faced her arrangement. He moved around, looking at it from several angles before straightening with a grimace.

  “That bad?” she asked, her stomach in free fall. “You’re grimacing.”

  “No, it’s not bad.” He leaned back against the bench and cr
ossed his arms over his chest. “If I’m not smiling it’s because I really wanted to put your arrangement in the catalog.”

  She felt the words like a slap. Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them form. “But you’re not going to.”

  “I’m sorry, Faith,” he said, his voice gentle. “Especially after...” He gestured toward the other end of the bench, where they’d been when he’d kissed her.

  She bit down on her lip. She might feel bad, but she didn’t want him to feel bad as well. He was only doing his job. “Don’t apologize. If it’s not good enough, that’s my problem, not yours.”

  “The thing is, it’s good, really good, but it looks a lot like the arrangements that are already in the book. If we add something new, then it needs to be unique. It has to offer our customers a genuine alternative to the options already there, and this arrangement, though beautiful, is—”

  “Too much like what they can already choose,” she finished for him, understanding his point, but still deflated.

  He moved closer and laid a hand on her shoulder, his eyes kind. “But I’ll reimburse the money you paid at the auction. You shouldn’t have to pay to have an appointment with someone at the head office.”

  Her back stiffened. He wasn’t going to wriggle out of this that easily. “I won’t take the money back. I have two more dates left and I plan to use them.”

  There was no way she was giving up this direct line to the head of the Hawke’s Blooms stores. It had been a good plan when she’d made it, and it was still a good plan...as long as she hadn’t blown her chances by kissing him.

  Sure, tonight hadn’t been the raging success she’d hoped for, but there were two more dates yet. When she set her mind to something, she didn’t give up until she’d achieved it. She’d impress him yet and get one of her arrangements in the catalog.

  He dropped his hand and sighed. “The thing is, Faith, I can’t force you to take the money back, but it would be easier for me if you did.”