Lauren turned back to her computer and frowned. So why was she suddenly feeling…jealous?
“ELLIOT, CAN YOU SEE Adam with a wife and kids?”
Lauren leaned in the doorway of her partner’s office. She couldn’t get her mind off Adam’s comments. Why did the thought of him as a family man send trepidation racing through her?
Elliot peered up at her over his half-rim glasses. No doubt, she was interrupting a brainstorming session. A red feather boa taken from a rack of lingerie in the corner draped his shoulders.
“Adam? You mean your Adam?” he asked.
“He isn’t my—never mind. Dumb question.” She turned to leave.
“What’s bothering you, doll?”
She pivoted back toward him, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Elliot pursed his lips. “Adam wants to settle down, and you’re afraid you’re going to lose your best friend.”
With a sigh, she sank against the door frame. “Oh, God, it’s so stupid. I really do want him to be happy. I just feel so…disturbed.”
“Let me guess. He wants you to help him find this wife.”
She gave him a wry smile.
“And she’s supposed to be some upstanding citizen willing to sacrifice all for her husband and little bambinos.”
A small grin tugged at her lips. “That’s amazing. Do you read palms, too?”
“No, doll, I just see the obvious.”
“Obvious?” She stared at him. “How can it be obvious? I’ve known the man all my life, but never saw this coming.”
Elliot shrugged. “You don’t see the two of you together.”
She stared at him, eyebrows raised.
“I suspected this all along.”
“Suspected what?”
The desk chair creaked as he shifted back. He smoothed his hand down the row of red feathers. “C’mon, Lauren, surely you have some inkling?”
Exasperation rose in her. “Of what?”
“Seems to me you’re an upstanding citizen willing to sacrifice all for your cause.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“First Kamira, now you. I am not in the market for a husband. And kids are out of the question!” She sliced her hand through the air to emphasize her point.
Elliot laughed. “For now, at least, but were you to put your mind to it…”
“My mind is on this agency. I don’t have time for anything else. You of all people know that.”
A loud buzzing announced a visitor’s arrival in their exterior office. Lauren turned as the mail carrier entered. She moved beside him as he set a stack of mail and a package on the desk they’d use for a receptionist, if they ever acquired one.
“Hey, Frank,” she greeted the heavyset man. “We thought you’d forgotten us.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. Got a late start. Had to run the missus downtown.”
“What have you got for us today?”
He pulled on his bushy eyebrow. “Usual junk, that package, but at least no bills.”
Her gaze fell on the parcel. “What’s this?”
His shoulders shifted in a shrug. “Beats me. No return address.” He heaved his mailbag more securely on his shoulder and backed toward the door. “You have a good one.”
She nodded, her attention on the mystery package. She turned it over in her hands. It bore a printed label, addressed to her. As Frank had said, the sender hadn’t included a return address.
Whatever it was, it had a solid feel to it. Anticipation stole over her. Was it another gift from a secret admirer?
“What’s that?” Elliot’s voice sounded beside her.
She started, then chastised herself for being jumpy. “Don’t know.”
He reached around her to scoop up the mail from the desk. “So, open it.”
For just a split second, she hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she tore at the tape binding the box. She held her breath as she removed the lid. A rectangular gift lay inside, adorned in floral wrap and tied in a satin bow. She lifted it out, then peered inside the empty container. “No card.”
“Here.” Elliot stooped to pick up a folded sheet of paper that had fallen to the floor. He handed it to her.
She opened it, then silently read the typed words.
Let me lie,
let me die on thy snow-covered bosom,
I would eat of thy flesh as a delicate fruit,
I am drunk of its smell, and the scent
of thy tresses
Is a flame that devours.
—George Moore (1852–1933)
“What’s it say?” Elliot peered over her shoulder.
She clutched the note to her chest, while heat bloomed in her cheeks. “It’s private.”
He nodded toward the package in her hand. “You going to open that, or should I leave first?”
Her gaze fell to the present. “It feels like a book.” She hesitated a moment, then tore away the paper.
She drew a deep breath as she turned what was indeed a book over in her hands. Rose petals covered the front. Nestled among them stood a pair of wineglasses, candlesticks and a serving dish filled with heart-shaped pastries.
“The Lovers’ Cookbook: Essential Ingredients to Sensual Evenings,” Elliot read over her shoulder. “Now, who did you say that was from?”
“I…don’t know.”
The phone pealed. She started.
Elliot grabbed the handset. “Entice Advertising, Elliot Star here.”
Again, his gray eyebrows rose as he glanced at Lauren. “Sure, Adam, she’s right here. We’ve just been opening the mail.”
She snatched the phone from him with unsteady hands. Had Adam sent the cookbook? Did he truly harbor such a romantic heart? “Hello?”
“Hey, sunshine. I’m getting ready to cut out of here. Are we on for dinner? I thought I’d push my luck and see if I could convince you to cook up another of your decadent dinners.”
3
THE CLOCK STRUCK eleven that evening as Lauren tossed the last flyer onto the stack heaped at one end of her sofa. Her stomach rumbled. Not only had she turned down Adam’s dinner proposition in favor of working some overtime, she’d skipped the meal entirely.
After staying late at the office, she’d brought home the file on one of their new clients to complete her marketing analysis. Then she’d gone on to ready Bennett’s flyers for the morning mail. She’d meant to keep her mind too busy to jump to conclusions about her latest gift.
The plan had failed miserably.
Was Adam her secret admirer? Goose bumps prickled up her arms. She eyed the rose-covered corner of the cookbook peering from beneath the avalanche of flyers. With a shake of her head, she slid the book free.
The phone on the end table rang. Who was calling at this hour? Her heart skipped a beat as she picked up the handset. “Hello?”
“Hi,