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Today had been described on the itinerary as a down day for guests with suggestions on the various sights and favored treasures of the Hamptons. Pamela and her team would keep a steady stream of snacks and light meals going throughout the day. She’d passed Jessica working in the library, Laura spending time with one of the guests in the sunroom. Most of the other guests had made use of the limos that were on standby to take them wherever they wanted to go. The other Pearson executives had flown back to New York for the day.
Leaving her with an entire day of nothing but stewing in her own thoughts.
She grabbed a cup of coffee and walked out onto the back deck. She’d been up since sunrise, putting the final touches on the arrangements for tomorrow’s lunch. Most nights she’d collapsed into bed just after dusk had settled over the ocean. Between the flowers for the guest rooms and the various events Grant had hosted, plus updating her website and organizing the flurry of new orders starting to trickle in, she hadn’t had time for anything but work.
She settled onto a lounge chair and pulled out her phone. No new emails. She’d blocked off orders through the gala, but a few had come in for the week after. A few taps and confirmation emails were sent. She’d scheduled social media posts through the week. And her landlord had actually come through on the electricity.
When was the last time she’d had an entire day to do nothing?
Years, she thought as she sipped her coffee. Jessica had forwarded her a copy of the guest itinerary. Maybe she could visit one of the farms or parks...
Her thoughts trailed off as movement caught her eye. She turned just in time to see Grant walk into the yard through a side gate. Her jaw dropped. A black bathing suit clung to his muscular thighs, and the white T-shirt he’d pulled on did little in the way of coverage. No, it actually did the opposite and clung to every ridge of his impressive chest. His dark hair curled in wet tangles that she wanted to reach out and brush back from his forehead.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the ocean. Perhaps he hadn’t seen her yet. If she could get up fast enough and slip back inside the house, then he wouldn’t catch her ogling him like a—
“Good morning.”
His deep voice rumbled through her.
“Good morning, Mr. Santos.”
He arched a brow as he drew closer and settled into the lounge chair next to her. She kept her gaze trained on the waves of the Atlantic.
“Don’t you thinkMr. Santosis a little formal?”
“It’s what you asked me to call you. As my boss.”
“That was before you were naked in my bed.”
Her head whipped around to make sure no one was listening. When she looked back at Grant, it was to see him watching her with a teasing glint in his brown eyes that belied the seriousness of his expression.
“I’ve been calling you Mr. Santos all week,” she pointed out, her hands wrapping around the coffee mug as she focused on the heat seeping from the porcelain instead of the remembered heat of their night together.
“In public, yes.”
She could feel him watching her, waiting for her to say something. She kept her lips pressed firmly together.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“You haven’t exactly been seeking me out,” she replied.
“I am now. We’re going to a hydrangea farm.”
Not what she had expected. Panic fluttered in her stomach even as a warm thrill shot through her veins at the prospect of spending more time with him. Part of her wondered what scheme he had up his sleeve. But she’d also never been to a hydrangea farm. The big round blooms were a fixture in many yards, but few florists used them in arrangements.
“What if I say no?”
Grant leaned in, the scent of salt mingling with his natural earthy scent.
“You won’t. Because even right now you’re envisioning rows upon rows of hydrangea blooms. You can’t resist.”
She barely stopped herself from swaying toward him. He was right. But it wasn’t just the enticement of visiting the farm. No, even though she’d been avoiding him all week, suddenly she wanted nothing more than to spend the day with him. Perhaps the last day she’d have, she realized. There would be no reason for them to see each other over the next week. She would deliver the flowers to the Met on Saturday afternoon and then...
Nothing. She and Grant would part ways. He would become a part of the upper echelons of Manhattan society and she would return to her shop.
“Only because you’re taking me to a flower farm.”
His smile flashed white against his tan skin, an irritatingly satisfied smirk.
