Bidding on Her Boss

As she worked, he blended into the background, but she felt his eyes on her the entire time she was making the crab apple, mint and white carnation arrangement. After Tom left, pleased with the results, Dylan cornered her near the cash register.

“Please tell me you get reimbursed for those extras you purchase on Monday mornings,” he said, his voice low.

She maintained a poker face. Getting her manager into trouble was a quick route to reduced hours, but she couldn’t lie, either. He could check the store’s accounting books and find that she hadn’t asked for reimbursement after the first few times, not since Mary had finally put her foot down and said she should use stock that was already in the store. And being caught in a lie by the CEO would be even less healthy for her career than not covering for her immediate manager.

“Sure, but sometimes I forget to hand the receipts in,” she said in what she hoped was a casual, believable tone.

“I see,” he said, and she had a feeling he really did see.

“I don’t mind paying for those extras,” she said quickly. “I know I should only use what we have in stock, but I get such a kick out of Tom’s expression when he knows he’s taking home something Emmie will love. It’s like a present I can give them.”

“It’s your job, Faith. You shouldn’t have to pay money to do your job.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you have the receipt from this morning?”

She picked up her handbag from under the counter and dug around until she found the crumpled bit of paper. “Here,” she said, passing it to him.

Their hands brushed, and she couldn’t help the slight gasp that escaped at the contact. Tingles radiated from the place they’d touched, and she yearned to reach out and touch him again. On his hand, or his forearm. Or—she looked up to his face—the cheek she’d stroked with her fingertips when they’d kissed. His eyes darkened.

“Faith,” he said, his voice a rasp, “we can’t.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Then don’t—”

“Anything I can help you with, Mr. Hawke?” Mary asked from behind them.

Without missing a beat, Dylan turned, his charming smile firmly in place, where only seconds before she’d seen something real, something raw.

“I was just chastising your florist about not submitting her receipts for the extras she’s been buying for that customer’s weekly order.” He handed over the receipt. “Ms. Crawford has promised she’ll turn them in to you from now on, haven’t you, Ms. Crawford?”

“Ah, yes,” Faith said, not meeting her manager’s eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another order to make up.”

She slipped away and left them to their discussion, finally able to take a full breath again only when she was immersed in her next arrangement. This day couldn’t end soon enough. He was too close here. In her space. Making her want him.

Yet even if he weren’t the owner of the company, the last man she could give her heart to was a man whose love life had no stability. She’d heard the rumors about Dylan, that he changed female companions regularly, never seeming to form attachments. She couldn’t fall for someone like that—she wouldn’t do it to herself. She’d spend the entire time waiting for the moment he’d move on. Better to stay independent and create stability by relying on herself.

She repeated the words to herself over and over while she worked, the whole time trying to ignore her body’s awareness of where he was in the room. And resisting the urge to walk over and touch him again.

Three

By late afternoon, Dylan was back in his office, staring out the window at the LA skyline. He had achieved what he’d set out to that morning—a detailed understanding of how the Santa Monica store was operating. He’d managed to sit down with all four employees during the day and chat about their perceptions and ideas, and had seen for himself that the customers were pleased with the floral arrangements being produced.

He’d also discovered one other thing—this fledgling attraction for Faith Crawford wasn’t going to fade away. From the moment he arrived, he’d fought to stop his gaze traveling to her. Wherever she was in the store, he could feel her. And occasionally he’d caught her watching him with more than an employee’s interest. His heart picked up speed now just thinking about it.

He’d cursed the Fates that he’d had to meet her while she worked for him.

He’d also noticed she was far from an average employee. He’d been taking orders over the phone and in person all day from people who wanted only an arrangement made by Faith. When he’d tried to suggest that another florist serve them, they’d said they’d wait. And he could see why. Her arrangements were spectacular. Why had she made such a conservative design the night she’d tried to impress him? When she was in her element, her work was original and beautiful. They were designs he wanted in the catalog so florists in the other stores were reproducing them.

And the bouquet she’d made using mint and crab apples for the man to give his blind wife had been the most cutting-edge design Dylan had seen in a long time. He liked it when staff went the extra mile for customers, adding that personal touch, and her customers seemed to appreciate it. In fact, just about everything about Faith impressed him. On every level, from the professional to the personal to the physical...

His skin heated.

Shaking his head, he focused back on the professional.

Faith Crawford was someone with a lot of potential. And he wanted to help her reach that potential for the benefit of Hawke’s Blooms, and because he really wanted to see Faith get her just rewards. That manager of hers wasn’t going to recognize her talents anytime soon, despite the overwhelming evidence under her nose.

He grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed Human Resources. “Anne, do you have a minute?” he asked when the head of HR picked up.

“Sure. What do you need, Dylan?”

“I did an impromptu inspection at the Santa Monica store today.”

“Great,” she said brightly. “You always bring back good feedback when you do one of those. What do you have for me?”

He dug one hand in his trouser pocket and looked out over the skyline. “One of the florists there has a lot of potential, and I want to do something about that.”

“What was her name?”

“Faith Crawford,” he said, ensuring his voice was even and didn’t give away his reaction to her.

There was a pause, and he could hear fingers tapping on a keyboard as Anne brought up Faith’s file. “What do you have in mind?”

“Her work is good. Really good. Original and creative. But in the interest of full disclosure, I should let you know that Faith is the person who bought the dates with me at the trust’s bachelor auction.”

“I was sorry to miss that night, it sounded like a lot of fun,” Anne said, chuckling. “So how do you want to handle this from here?”

He rubbed a hand through his hair. “She’s got a lot of potential, and I want to see Hawke’s Blooms benefit from that, but I don’t want any suggestion that she bought her way into a promotion. How about you get someone else to go out and assess her? Don’t tell them that the idea came from me, just let them go to the Santa Monica store without any preconceptions and see her work.”

“I’ll see what I can arrange and let you know.”

“Thanks, Anne.”

He hung up the phone, feeling very satisfied with his day’s work. The only thing that could make it better was to be the one who actually gave Faith the promotion, so he could be there when she found out about it. But he didn’t want her to think this had anything to do with their kiss, so it was better that she had a fair and independent assessment first. He had no doubt that whoever did that would see what he’d seen and recommend her for something more senior.

But still, a good day’s work indeed. He smiled, thinking about Faith’s reaction. She was going to be over the moon.

* * *

As Faith picked out a long-stemmed apricot rose from the bucket at her feet, Mary appeared across the bench from her with a folded piece of paper in her hand.

“I’ve just had a call from head office about you,” she said, her voice accusing.

Faith stopped what she was doing and looked up. “About me personally?”

Besides the initial paperwork when she’d started at the store, she hadn’t had any direct dealings with the head office other than the impersonal pay slips. She wiped her hands on her apron and waited.

Mary planted her hands on her hips. “Have you been talking to the head office without my knowledge?”

“Of course not,” Faith said, and then realized she’d been talking to Dylan on the weekend without her manager knowing. And would be talking to him again about their next two dates. But he had her phone number—he wouldn’t be contacting her via her manager.

Hands still on her hips, Mary lifted her chin as she spoke. “It was Anne in Human Resources. They’re offering you a promotion.”

Faith’s breath caught. Hang on...

“A promotion?” she repeated, trying to make sense of it.

“To the head office.” Mary thrust the piece of paper at her. “They emailed the details.”

Faith took the paper but didn’t want to open it in front of the entire store. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said and went out the back door to the lane. Then she opened the folded email printout.

It was a formal letter of promotion to the head office. To a desk job. She scanned the list of duties and found they were all things that didn’t involve customers. Or flowers.

Frustration started simmering in her belly. She’d spent most of her life being told what would happen to her. Announcements would come that she’d be moving to another family member’s house the next week, that she’d have to change schools, that her father would be visiting and taking her to a theme park, that he would be returning her to yet another relative afterward. The best thing about being an adult was that she was in charge of her own life.

So getting notice out of the blue saying she was being moved to a desk job that she hadn’t applied for and certainly didn’t want was particularly unwelcome.

She was ambitious, yes, but not for just any promotion. She had a very clear vision of what she wanted in her career, and this job—being stuck in a boring office, away from customers and the daily joy of working with flowers—wasn’t it.

Besides, was this really out of the blue?

She’d kissed the CEO, and in less than a week he’d come to the store for a full-day inspection—something the others said he used to do, but hadn’t done since she’d been working there. And now a promotion.

What was Dylan Hawke really up to?

The thought made her uneasy, so she went back through the door and told Mary that she was declining the offer.

* * *

Dylan drove into the parking lot of the Santa Monica store for the third time in a week, still not sure what to make of the call he’d had from Anne telling him Faith had turned down the promotion. With all her ambition, he’d expected her to leap at the opportunity. So, surprised and intrigued, he’d jumped into his car to talk to her face-to-face.

As he walked through the door, Mary dropped what she was doing and headed for him, her face covered in a fawning smile. Faith wasn’t in sight, and he was more disappointed than he should have been at not seeing an employee.

Then she walked in from the cold room, carrying a bucket full of flowers. She was wearing black biker boots that almost reached her knees and a bright purple dress that peeked out around the yellow Hawke’s Blooms apron. Her wild hair was caught up on top of her head and sprang out in all directions. He only barely resisted a smile—this woman was a force of nature.

Her step faltered when she saw him.

“Mr. Hawke!” Mary said when she reached him, darting suspicious glances at Faith. “Twice in one week. We’re honored.”

He paused before answering. He hadn’t planned what he should say here—how had the offer of the promotion gone down at the store level? Should he mention it now, or play it cool for the moment? He glanced across at her as she pulled stems one by one from the bucket. His gut was telling him not to mention it until he’d at least spoken to Faith.

He smiled at Mary. “I just have a few follow-up questions from the other day.”

“Well, I’m at your service,” she said, untying the apron strings at her back. “Would you like to talk here, or perhaps at the café next door?”

“Actually, I’d like to talk to Faith if she has a few minutes.”

Faith’s hands stilled and her face grew pale. He was torn between wanting to reassure her and wanting to demand an explanation. Instead, he turned an expectant expression to Mary.

“Of course, Mr. Hawke. If that’s what you want.” But her face was sour. She really didn’t like Faith getting more attention than her.

“Excellent.” He smiled and rocked back on his heels. “You mentioned a café next door?”

Mary’s mouth opened and closed again. “Er, yes. Courtney can finish that order. Faith. Can you come and talk to Mr. Hawke, please?”

“Certainly,” Faith said, wiping her hands on her apron and removing it. The entire time, she kept her gaze down.

“Thank you,” he said to Mary, and then opened the door for Faith and followed her out onto the pavement.

“Have I just made things difficult for you in there?” he asked.

She lifted her chin. “Nothing I can’t deal with.”

He was beginning to see how true that was. Faith Crawford was most definitely her own woman. From bidding on the CEO of her company at a charity auction to get his attention for her work, to turning down a promotion most of his staff would jump at and not bowing to the head office... The more he got to know this woman, the more he liked her.

They found a secluded booth at the café and ordered coffees.

“I heard you were offered a promotion.” He leaned back and rested his arm along the top of the padded vinyl booth. “You turned it down.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “You heard I was offered the job? Are you sure you don’t mean you arranged for me to be offered the job?”

He grinned. The fact that she spoke her mind was a very attractive feature. “Okay, I might have had a hand in it. After watching you in the store for a day, I realized your potential was being underutilized, and I implemented a plan to rectify that.”

“Is that all it was?” She arched an eyebrow and waited.

“You think it’s about more?” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his pulse picked up speed. “You think you were being promoted because I’d kissed you?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.