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She gave him a flirty look. “They call these flowers, Rafe.”
He’d always liked how she said his name, her tone dropping a notch when the word slipped from her lips. Rafe also enjoyed the casual banter they engaged in.
“For the tables,” she explained.
He stood and came around to her side of the high top. “What I was wondering was, why aren’t they pink roses?”
“These Gerbera daisies are much livelier and will really perk up the dining room. Plus, they’re less expensive, less formal. More vibrant and inviting.”
They were in shades of bright yellow, orange, red, fuchsia and green.
“Huh. We’ve always had pink roses on the tables.”
“What’d you say about the Chianti?” she further challenged.
“That’s the way it’s always been.”
“And what’s my stance on that particular excuse?”
He grinned. Little spitfire. “If that’s the best answer I can give you, there’s no reason not to change it.”
“Exactly!” She gripped his upper arm with both hands, her fingers wrapping around his thick biceps as she leaned in close and said, “You are easily my favorite client!”
He crooked a brow as he stared down at her. “Smartass.” He flexed his arm, making the muscles bulge beneath her touch.
“Oh!” The word seemed to tumble from her mouth, unbidden. Excitement lit her eyes. One hand splayed over her stomach for a moment, as though it fluttered with exhilaration.
Ha. Feel my endless arousal, babe!
“Impressive,” she mumbled. “Still dedicated to the gym, I see.”
“You didn’t notice last night?” he countered. Because he knew she had.
“I—um… Let’s move on, shall we?” Despite her words, fire blazed in her eyes. That turned him on even more.
Oh, hell, who was he kidding?
She didn’t have to be all worked up over him—or even in the same room—for Rafe to get hard. He had plenty of memories of her to stimulate the senses and get his adrenaline pumping.
She returned her attention to the flowers, but Rafe noted her chest rose and fell a bit faster. He didn’t bother biting back his grin of satisfaction. He might be head over heels for his sexy and savvy ex, but he clearly got her juices flowing as well.
She was a bit breathy as she told him, “The daisies don’t create the same distraction as long-stemmed roses. I’m going to cut them down so diners can see over the blooms, instead of having to look around them as they converse. Or stare into each other’s eyes.”
Admittedly, he’d never given much thought to the floral selection. The grower’s assistant delivered fresh roses twice a week, no questions asked. Jenna must have canceled today’s order, since she knew the routine around the restaurant.
“You’re the expert.”
“Yes,” she said, “but you’re the proprietor. Do you like them?”
“Sure. I mean, they’re…flowers, Jen.”
Her pale-green eyes sparkled as she said, “You’re such a guy.”
“Indeed.” He stifled a Tarzan-like grunt as his groin tightened further.
She lifted the packages of daisies into her arms and turned away, saying over her shoulder, “I’ve got to get these in water. And I suggest ordering more stylish vases than the dainty white porcelain ones. We can sell those on eBay. The owner of a frilly Victorian inn will love them.”
He watched her saunter out of his kitchen as saucily as she’d sauntered in, swaying her shapely hips, holding his attention hostage.
