“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 training 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.
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