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And not because she was thinking about his lovely collection of stonecrops.
Apparently oblivious to her sexcapade hot flash, he leaned forward and picked up the brochure she’d dropped. “Nice,” he said distantly, his expression hard to read. As usual. “Lots of Japanese flowers and pricey arrangements though. Not very accessible,” he said, glancing around as if deep in thought.
“To whom?” Deliberately, she edged her voice in ice. “This is a specialty floral shop.”
“Yeah, but it’s empty.”
She winced before she could school her response. “Right now, yes, but—“
“And where are your doodads?” he asked, studying her counter and its neat stack of business cards and cup of pens. “And a sign-up sheet for your mailing list?”
“What mailing list? What doodads?” She knew which way she was heading now. Straight into back the heck off, buddy.
“You know how stores place trinket-type crap near the checkouts to get people to impulse buy? You need that here.” He dragged his fingertips over her previously pristine glass counter, ensuring her another session with the Windex before the end of the day. “Something cute and cheap. Like, I don’t know, small arrangements. Or even flower-themed stuff.” He snapped his fingers. “What about those little climbing creatures that go on flower pots? Squirrels and stuff.”
Alexa linked her fingers together on the edge of the counter and took a cleansing breath. He was a potential customer and her building’s handyman to boot, so she couldn’t kill him, no matter the provocation. “I’d ask you to list all these fine ideas and stuff them in the suggestion box, but oops, don’t have one. So let’s move on, okay?”
He didn’t appear to hear her. Now he was studying her ceiling, of all things. “This place is too sterile. How do you feel about chimes? Or those wind spinner things? With the baubles on the end that blow in the breeze?” Then he glanced at her sharply. “And you need an e-mail list at the very least. Get a clipboard out on the counter, start gathering names. I’ll be your first.”
Rarely-acknowledged violent impulses reared up inside her, and only sheer force of will kept her standing still. She plastered a thin smile on her face. “Let me get the website up and running before I tackle newsletter lists, mmkay?”
To her endless annoyance, he didn’t seem to notice her response to his bullheaded suggestions. With a tilt of his head, he regarded the pen-and-ink drawing of a daisy on the wall. “Pretty. Local artist?”
“Yes. My mother.”
“She’s very talented.”
“Thanks.” Idly, she rubbed a vague ache in the pit of her stomach. Nerves. Something about Dillon set her off-kilter. Well, lots of things did, but now that he’d stopped peppering her with ideas about her business, she was referring to his sharp-as-a-tack eyes. Or his killer smile. Or his sizzle-hot body, which she knew way too much about, and wished she could learn more.
He slanted her a glance. “Do you draw? Or paint?”
“God, no. I can barely write legibly, never mind doodle a picture.” She laughed, then fell silent when she noticed how closely he was looking at her. At once, her traitorous body reacte
d at the memory of what they’d shared.
So much for being mad at his high-handedness.
Her nipples tightened, and her panties flashed damp. Any time now he’d leave and she could go back to fantasizing about how he’d felt inside her while she stewed over his obnoxious know-it-all attitude. “What are you doing here, Dillon?” she asked, more softly than she’d intended.
He waved a hand at the items he’d placed on the counter. “Along with these plants, I need some flowers.”
Disappointment came first, swift and humbling. Clearly he hadn’t been magnetized to her store by his need to ravish her beside the ornamentals. “Oh.”
A smile tipped up his mouth. “I bet you thought I was going to bug you about getting in to fix your sink.”
She toyed with her necklace, well aware that his gaze dropped to her breasts every time she did so. “Maybe. You seem like a dutiful type.”
He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. “Still think that after last night?”
Don’t blush. She wasn’t one to get red and stammer by nature, but this guy had a way of making her feel like a girl in the throes of her first crush. Or perhaps first sex thrall. “A woman never kisses and tells. But yes,” she worked her chain between her fingers and pulled lightly, “I still think you’re conscious of your responsibilities. Look at all the stuff you’re buying for the roof garden. Your employer will be pleased.”
Something dark flashed through his eyes, moving as quickly as a summer squall. Then it was gone.
He crossed his arms over her counter, bringing her attention to the flex of his forearm muscles. Damn, he was hot. And he made her hot, inspiring an anticipation inside her she hadn’t felt in way too long. She couldn’t wait to see what he’d do next.
“Speaking of pleasure…” She swallowed hard as he trailed off. “I know you’ll get an immense amount of it knowing your sink is fully operational, so I’m going to fix your pipes this afternoon, Alexa.” His sexy voice caressed her name as if she were naked in his arms. “Beyond that, just say the word.”
He was talking pipes for pity’s sake, and she was burning up like a locomotive chugging oil. Her chest hurt from her rapid, suppressed breaths. God, if she didn’t watch herself, she’d toss off her clothes, mount the counter, and beg him to fuck her. And that just wasn’t part of the plan. A quickie sex romp on the roof was bad enough. A repeat would make meetings in her apartment building even more awkward. Not to mention she didn’t have the time or mental space for any sort of relationship right now, even of the screw-and-rue variety. She needed to focus on making Divine a success, and she didn’t need his advice on that score either.
