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I yanked my head backward, "I will not be your other woman!" I shouted. "I was on the other end of this. I will not make another woman feel the way I felt."
"What?" His eyes darted back and forth like he was trying to read me. Like I was an illegible book.
"You. Have. A. Girlfriend." I snarled.
He stepped back. "What makes you think that?" he asked.
God damn him, why was he being deliberately obtuse? "The bouquet, asshole."
His eyebrows slammed together. "That isn't for my girlfriend, Shay. You have the wrong idea about me." He at least had the grace to sound angry now.
I folded my arms. "I don't think I do."
"Oh really?" His gray eyes snapped and he folded his arms across his broad chest. "Well then. you've already made up your mind about me, how can I defend myself against that?"
"You can't," I said. But there was a small tremor in my voice.
He heard it too. "I think you believe me. You want to believe me."
"I don't." But I did. I wanted so badly to believe him and then for him to kiss me like that again.
"You're making an awful lot of assumptions about me when you have no idea what kind of man I am." He sounded more disappointed than mad.
I hid my shaking hands behind my back. "So what kind of man are you?" I snapped.
He moved to cup my face again. "Let me show you," he murmured. "What do you need, Shay, hmm?"
I was overheated and freezing at the same time. My cheeks were still frozen, but my lips burned where he kissed me. "I need to be able to trust you," I said haltingly. "And that will take...time." Everything felt sped up, including my heart. "Time," I repeated firmly. "I need time." Time to learn to trust you...and myself around you.
He nodded. "Very well then. I can give you time," he said softly. "I can give you the time of your life."
His fingers traveled to my face, hovering just above my skin. Like he wanted to touch me but was holding back.
"I'll take my flowers now," he said. He sounded sad now.
I swallowed and went to the refrigerator case. I had finished the arrangement yesterday all the while sipping the coffee he had brought me. All the while my hand tingled from the touch of his lips. And now I lifted it while my lips still burned from his kiss.
It was beautiful and I was almost sorry to see it go.
He looked at it and a soft whistle escaped his lips. "She'll love it," he said tightly. Sadly.
"I hope she does." And I meant it, somehow.
He reached for my face again. A slight tremor shook him, like he was deciding something.
Then he pulled away and put his gloves back on. "I'll be by tomorrow, when you close," he told me, suddenly all business. "I'm taking you out, Shay."
"You are?"
"Yes." It was a simple, inarguable fact, the way he said it. I could no more argue with him than I could claim the sky was green. Or that his eyes were anything but shattered gray. "I'll be here right at close, so be ready."
I watched him, open mouthed and breathless from his touch, as he turned and walked out the door of the shop. He paused, turned back. "And wear layers," he called as the door closed.
Chapter Seven
Kit made several strangled sounds in his throat. Like he was at war with himself. I was glad I had waited until close to tell him about my date tonight. The less time I gave him to grill me, the easier it would be to slip away.
"I know, I know," I told him. "But I believe him when he says he isn't a cheater." I tried to put more decisiveness into my tone, but it sounded hollow in my ears.
"Well then, tell me all about it tomorrow, lover," Kit replied in his wary sing-song.
I sighed. "Of course." Maybe that's it? Maybe I'm in the clear?
And then, almost as if it were an afterthought, he piped up innocently, "Does Jazzy know you're seeing him?"
This time it was me that was making the strangled sounds.
"Aha," Kit said smugly. "And what would she say if I called her and told her right now?" he asked, turning in the swivel chair.
I lunged for his phone on the desk. "Don't you dare!"
"Mmhmm." He folded his arms over his beefy chest. "One chance, lover," he held up an index finger the size of a sausage. "That's all I'm giving him. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way, I'm coming down on him with the full force of my wrath. Which, I'll have you know, is totally terrible."
I huffed. "You told me to do him, I'll have you recall?"
He shook his head emphatically. "He seduced me with those eyes. I have since come to my senses and am back to calm, rational self."
I crossed my arms. "Uh huh. That's you all right." I scoffed. "Whatever happened to your life's mission? Getting me laid?"
His eyes softened. "I revised the mission statement. Now it reads, 'Seeing Shay happy.'"
I blinked back the sudden tears. Not know what else to say, I hugged him fiercely. "I'll be okay," I told him. Then seeing my opportunity, "And if you so much as breathe a word to Jazz before I do, I'll tell Mom to take away your cookie privileges. She'll listen to me too. You know she likes me better than you."
He feigned shock. "You absolute bitch. Get out of my store."
I laughed and did just that, wrapping my scarf up around my mouth and stepping out under the awning. I was still in my work slacks and white blouse. In an effort to convince myself of how not excited I was to go on this date, I had refused to pack a change of clothing this morning. I was regretting this decision right about now.
A sleek black car rolled up to the curb. A driver stepped out and smartly stepped up onto the sidewalk and opened the rear door.
"Shay! Come inside before you freeze," Liam called.
I slid into the backseat, trying in vain to act like this was a completely normal thing for me. I knew Liam was rich, that much was obvious. But to be confronted with the riches, head on like this, well that was another thing entirely. I perched nervously at the edge of my seat, feeling out of my element, while Liam settled himself comfortably next to me.
The driver was a light-skinned Black man, wearing dark tinted aviators in spite of the darkness outside. "Can he see in those?" I whispered nervously.
Liam looked confused for a moment. "Darius? Oh, he always wears shades. It's his thing," he grinned and shot an affectionate look at the man who stared impassively forward. "I'm honestly not sure I've ever seen his eyes, the whole time I've known him."
"How long have you known him?"
"All my life," he replied simply.
I looked again at the man. There was something familiar about him, though I was sure I had never seen him before. "Who is he?"
"Darius."
"But what does he do?"
Liam spread his hands. "He's my driver, my assistant, my bodyguard, my confidante. I hate the word butler, because he's more than that."
If Darius heard any of this, he wasn't letting on. We turned down the snowy streets, past the glimmering lights of Rittenhouse Square. We were headed north on 16th and my curiosity was growing. "How did you two meet?" I asked.
"Honestly I couldn't tell you. He's been around forever. Even when I was a kid, Darius was there. He looks out for me."
I looked at Liam, all six foot two, powerfully built intensity. "You don't seem like you'd need anyone looking out for you," I teased.
His dimple flashed mischievously. "Maybe not now, but I got into some shit when I was young."
"Yeah? Tell me about this shit."
"Boy stuff, you know the drill. Stupid risks and rebellion." His mouth twisted oddly. "Dahlia nipped that in the bud."
