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He raised his brows. “Gee, thanks.”
“And if you’re the one who sent me the daisies, I appreciate the kind gesture.”
His grin widened. “Daisies are your favorite.”
“But getting personally involved with clients goes against my principles.” Well, except when it came to Wolfgang—and Harvey—but he was just a friend.
“I didn’t send you any flowers, Violet.”
“Oh. Well, then good. I wasn’t sure, being that Addy told you I like daisies.”
“If I were going to send you flowers, they wouldn’t be daisies.”
What would they be?I clamped my teeth together to keep my tongue locked up.
“I agree with you,” he continued. “We need to keep to the business at hand.”
“Uh-huh.” Roses were too cliché for Doc. Maybe he’d send tulips? No, too common.
“Sleeping with my Realtor is off-limits.”
Sleeping with… His words sank in and my eyes widened. The image of our legs entangled in sheets, his whiskers scratching my bare stomach, his deep baritone voice groaning my name, whispering his wants and needs in my ear—all bundled in one breathtaking flash—ricocheted through my skull. My interest in Doc hadn’t veered that far off the pavement. Until now.
He turned the knob on the side of the machine, the screen flickered with rolling images. “I’m not even sure what I’m doing that has you so skittish.”
The heat in my cheeks spread down my neck, now fueled by embarrassment. Hold up! He was the one who started this. “You said I smelled good.”
“You do.”
“Then you said I’m making you hungry.”
“You are.”
I crossed my arms and glared at his profile. “How is that not coming on to me?”
He spared me a glance. “You smell like French fries and bacon, and I haven’t had lunch yet.” His stomach growled next to my shoulder, as if on cue.
“Oh.” The skin on my upper chest burned with mortification, too. “But you asked about my date tonight.”
“I asked if you have a date.”
“Same thing.”
“Anewspaperdate for the article you’re looking up.”
I closed my eyes, wishing Scotty would beam me up right then. “Oh, crud. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The squeeze he gave my shoulder would have made me feel better if I could’ve run out of the room and avoided him for the next year. “So, you have a date?”
“Yes.” My gaze now intently focused on the screen. “Last August.”
He spun the knob faster, the images a blur. “Did Addy set you up?”
“What?”
“With your date tonight?”
“Oh. No.” I peeked at him, noticing a second scar, this one very faint, above his eyebrow. “He asked me on his own.”
