“Got something here for you, Frannie,” the man called.
Rising from her knees, where she’d been fiddling with the hemline that the bride insisted had be to lengthened to accommodate the higher heels she had bought over the weekend, Frannie pushed through the swinging saloon-style doors from the fitting area.
Her regular delivery man stood in the middle of the shop, totally hidden behind a huge spray of red roses beautifully displayed with ferns and baby’s breath. His big feet in heavy work boots looked ridiculously out of place on the pale pink carpet. “You musta really impressed some fella.”
“I can’t imagine how,” Frannie replied. “They’re probably for one of my brides, though why they would have been sent here is a mystery.”
“I don’t know ’bout that,” he said. He set the arrangement down on top of a glass counter displaying a variety of ladies’ dress gloves. “It’s got your name right here.” He pointed to the address attached to the flowers before turning to leave. “You have a nice day now.”
“You, too,” Frannie said absently as she slid the small white card from its accompanying envelope.
You’re my angel. Jack.
Pleasure swept through her. An image of Jack’s face rose for an instant before the damper of reality intruded. Jack only was expressing his thanks with this too-extravagant gesture. He might have made her heart beat faster for a few hours, but that was immaterial. He was involved already. With at least one woman, she thought, remembering the phone conversation he’d been having the day she’d been shown into his office.
“Whoo-hoo! What did you have to do for those?” April, her assistant, peeked through the doors, then walked over to read the card as she bent toward the roses and inhaled deeply. “Who’s Jack? And how come florists’ roses never have any smell?”
“A little favor, a business acquaintance, and I don’t know.” Under April’s suspicious gaze, Frannie fought the urge to fidget. It was true; Jack was just an acquaintance whom she’d helped out. The roses meant nothing to him other than, “Thank you.”
And, of course, that was what they meant to her, too.
The rest of the week passed in a frantic blur. June was a big month in the bridal business; come July, the bell over the shop door probably wouldn’t ring once the whole day, but it certainly was getting a workout in June. On Friday afternoon Frannie and April were sharing a soda and nursing fingers sore from so much detailed handwork, when the door to the shop’s entry jangled yet again.
Wearily Frannie got to her feet. She would give a lot to be able to flip that sign over to Closed for the rest of the day. But they had fittings scheduled right up until they locked up that evening. With a sigh, she pushed through the doors into the shop with a smile firmly pinned in place.
She stopped dead when she saw Jack Ferris lounging against a counter, smiling at her. He was wearing a sort of backpack with Alexa snuggled into it, except that it was carried on his broad chest rather than his back. One hand patted a gentle rhythm against the spot where Alexa’s back was. It was hard to tear her gaze from the sight. The contrast between the baby’s pink, lace-edged bonnet and his big, blunt-fingered hand struck her hard in the heart.
He was wearing dun-colored slacks with a dark green knit shirt that made his eyes look silver. Or maybe it was just the light in the shop. Whatever, he looked wonderful. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath backed up in her throat for a minute. She despised her reaction, but she couldn’t control it.
“This is a surprise,” she finally managed. To her everlasting relief, her voice sounded relatively normal, if a bit higher than usual.
Jack straightened and came toward her, moving around the counter to her side. “I know. We just came from the doctor’s office and I thought you might want to hear how Lex is doing.”
“Lex?” To cover her flustered state, she seized on the name as she sidled a step away. “You’re calling that beautiful little girl Lex?”
“Sure. Every kid needs a nickname.” He took a step closer and smiled down at her. “Frannie is a nickname, isn’t it? Short for Francesca?”
“Don’t I wish.” She shook her head as she backed up another step. “Short for Frances.”
“I’m glad you’re not Frances or Fran. I like ‘Frannie,”’ Jack pronounced, advancing again.
She didn’t care what he liked. She just wished the man would quit invading her personal space. She took another step backward, and the wall brought her up short. “I like ‘Frannie,’ too.” Why are you here?
“And Jack, of course, is another name for John. My father was John, and I have to say I’m glad. Don’t you think Jack suits me?” He took another step closer.
“Jack suits you.” She took a deep breath. “You’re crowding me.”
“I know.”
She was startled into looking up and as she did so, she realized how very close he was. Their bodies were only inches apart, separated by the small mound of the baby’s carrier. He was smiling that intimate smile again, and she reminded herself that it was second nature for him, that there was nothing personal about it.
“Do you do this to all your friends?” She made her voice light and amused.
At the outer edges of his eyes, the grooves deepened. “Only my absolute favorites.” But he moved back a step.
She stayed where she was, with her back to the wall. Had she imagined it, or had his eyes grown watchful? “Thank you for the roses. It really wasn’t necessary, though.”
“I didn’t do it because I thought it was necessary,” he said. “I appreciate the time you took helping me with Alexa. She’d been in foster care practically until the moment we stepped on the plane. I’ve never been around babies much. It was a shock to have this little scrap of life dependent on me for every need all of a sudden.”
“A first baby is a shock even when you’ve anticipated its arrival for months.”
“No kidding.” His voice was dry, and for the first time she noticed that he looked tired. “When people talk about how sweet babies are, they never tell you that they get you up in the middle of the night or that they throw up on you ten times a day and scream bloody murder when you give them a bath.”
To cover her urge to laugh, Frannie coughed.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “That didn’t fool me. You think this is funny, don’t you?”
“Yes, but only because I’ve lived through it.”
Jack cocked his head to one side, and his eyes suddenly were clear and alert. “You told me you helped with your brothers’ children.”
“Yes. Between them I have five nieces and nephews. One of my brothers’ wives had twins a few years ago. They were premature and needed a lot of care for the first few months after they were released from the hospital.” She smiled, remembering how fussy Robert’s twins had been. “For about three months there, I was in desperate need of a few hours of unbroken sleep.”
Jack was nodding. “It’s only been a week, and I already feel that way. I’m keeping my fingers crossed, though. For the past two nights she’s slept for five hours straight. I think we’re on the right track.”
Alexa stirred and he looked down. “What’s the matter, baby doll? Are you tired of being crammed into that sack?” He glanced at Frannie. “Would you like to hold her?”
She really shouldn’t. She was up to her eyeballs in work. But she could already feel the sweet weight of the little body in her arms. “I’d love to.”
He lifted Alexa from her nest and passed her into Frannie’s hands, and