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Million Dollar Valentine
Rita Clay Estrada
Free-spirit Crystal Tynan's goal in life was to marry a millionaire. Too bad handsome, sexy mall manager Blake Wright wasn't rich. Still, if she could loosen him up, a fling might be fun….Everything changed for Blake when Crystal blew into town and temporarily took over her aunt's flower shop. Not only did she turn his mall upside down, he was lusting after someone who drove him crazy with her spontaneous window displays. Luckily, she'd be gone after Valentine's Day. But then, that gave Blake just one month to figure out what to do about their explosive sexual chemistry….



“I’m good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to marry?”
Blake’s voice was low, growling at her.
Tension filled every atom of Crystal’s body. “Are you asking for marriage?”
“No,” he replied.
She relaxed. Even though she knew it sounded wrong, she had to do what was best for her. No one else would. “You and I both know we’re not meant for marriage. But there’s this chemistry thing…”
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “After last night, you’re saying you like me for a stud, but not for the long term.”
“That’s a coarse way of putting it, but yes.”
His slow grin was as wolfish as it was sexy. “Well, then—” He pulled her toward him. “You can’t complain if I take my job seriously.”
With her hands on his nape she drew his mouth down to hers. “Okay, but you’d better be good, Blake. We’ve only got four more weeks until I go back to Santa Fe, so we have to make this relationship very memorable.”
Rita Clay Estrada is a vibrant fixture in the world of romance writing. Not only has she written thirty-five novels to date, she created and co-founded the Romance Writers of America, the only organization of its kind in the world.
Early on, Rita established herself as a bestselling Harlequin Temptation author. Her stories always seem to strike the right emotional chord and fans won’t be disappointed by Million Dollar Valentine. Newcomers to Rita Clay Estrada’s work and loyal readers alike will welcome another “keeper” to the shelf.
Throughout her almost two decades as a prolific writer, Rita has also worked at a dizzying array of jobs. This year, she’s studying to become an insurance appraiser on disaster sites! Rita raised her family in Texas and still lives in Houston.

Books by Rita Clay Estrada
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
450—ONE MORE TIME
474—THE COLONEL’S DAUGHTER
500—FORMS OF LOVE
518—THE TWELVE GIFTS OF CHRISTMAS
573—THE STORMCHASER
595—LOVE ME, LOVE MY BED
634—WISHES
687—DREAMS
713—EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM
733—ONE WILD WEEKEND
Million Dollar Valentine
Rita Clay Estrada


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Contents
Chapter 1 (#u5364b446-add5-5ec6-a885-867053fdc99d)
Chapter 2 (#ue6044e4a-2989-58d4-9340-96f0d8a947eb)
Chapter 3 (#u69427a9c-be31-5b78-bfd8-752d5f945d6f)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

1
FROM THE expensive suit and the way he carried himself, the good-looking guy could have been a millionaire. From the frown, he looked like an uptight CEO. But, from the intense gaze of his penetrating deep-blue eyes, he resembled a lover.
An interesting…contradiction.
Clutching the to-do list her aunt had instructed her to follow before opening the flower and gift shop door, Crystal Tynan watched intently as he approached the shop’s front door.
He stopped in the doorway, his very presence blocking all light. His suit was light-gray with a fine thread of blue woven through the material. His sandy-brown hair was thick and well cut. He had a strong face; nice cheekbones, a well-sculpted mouth and a great chin. His shoulders were broad, and the rest of him was just plain easy on the eyes, as Crystal’s Aunt Helen would say. From her aunt’s description, Crystal bet this was Blake Wright, manager of the Granite Run Mall just outside of Flagstaff, Arizona.
His midnight-blue eyes stared back, assessing and evaluating her just as intently. Although he wasn’t returning her smile, he was interested, too, or he wouldn’t be so focused. Either that or he was even more uptight than she’d first assumed.
It was two days after New Year’s Day, and the mall would soon be as packed with shoppers as it had been during the holiday season—no doubt because of the after-holiday sales. This was Crystal’s first day of filling in for her Aunt Helen and so far she hadn’t accomplished more than two things on the list. Thank goodness the other employee—the one who knew how to run the store—would be in soon.
She placed the sheaf of papers on top of the glass showcase filled with small silver and gold trinkets, and held out her hand. “Hello, Blake Wright. It’s so nice to meet the man my Aunt Helen loves.”
He blinked twice, obviously not expecting that greeting. “I beg your pardon?”
Certainly he didn’t take her literally. “Don’t you manage this mall?”
“Yes.” He sounded cautious as he took a few steps into the shop and faced her.
He was the right guy. She relaxed again. “Well, my aunt talks about you all the time.”
Those wonderful blue eyes narrowed. Still no smile.
Obviously her aunt didn’t talk about Crystal as much as she talked about him. Or—maybe he didn’t understand her. After all, she did have a rather heavy East Texas drawl. “I’m Crystal Tynan,” she said slowly and distinctly. “I’m here to manage the shop until Valentine’s Day, while Aunt Helen recuperates from her broken arm.”
Finally, recognition turned his eyes an iridescent blue. He took her hand in his. The tight look on his face slowly receded. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said. “She was worried you wouldn’t be able to get away from your, uh, job.”
Crystal gave a light laugh, intrigued by the man. When his expression eased, he seemed like a different person. Although, if he was close enough to Aunt Helen to know Crystal had to get a release from her job to be here, he also knew what she did for a living. Some people were funny about masseuses. Occasionally, male clients came looking for more than just a massage, and she set them straight but fast.
Crystal smiled, pretending she had no doubts that he thought she was an upstanding citizen. “Since I’m a massage therapist, much of my income is based upon tips. I couldn’t afford to lose out. Luckily, when my aunt broke her arm, the season was ending.”
“I didn’t know there was a season for massages.” There was a dryness to his tone, but she ignored that, too. This time.
“There aren’t for some. However, I work for a lodge during the ski season and that’s very seasonal. And when the ski season is over, and before the spring tourist season begins, there are four or five dead weeks.” She scraped back another strand of her hair, letting the full length of it fall over her shoulder and down her back. “Although, last year Santa Fe didn’t have the normal lull between one season and the other. Everyone wants to visit.”
“It’s a beautiful city.”
“And a very wealthy city,” she added.
“Wealthy,” he said slowly, paying such close attention to her mouth that her skin tingled. “Is that important?”
“Only if you’re poor,” she said with a straight face. Was he kidding? Usually only the wealthy asked silly questions like that…. “You don’t happen to own this mall, do you?” she asked, pretending innocence.
He stayed serious. “No. Would it matter?”
She couldn’t keep her smile away. “Probably a lot—to you.”
Finally, Blake Wright smiled, too, and it was as if warm sunshine had flooded the flower shop. “I don’t know about that. I don’t have time to sit around and feel jealous for those who have more than I do. I enjoy what I have.”
Her eyes widened. “I thank the powers that be for everything I have, too. But I’m certainly not silly enough to turn down more blessings—or money.”
If she thought his smile was enticing, it was only because she hadn’t heard his laughter—until now. It was deep and rich and wonderful, dancing down her spine and awakening each and every nerve in her body.
He really was a very handsome man. Out of her league, though. Darn.
“I have a feeling you make your own…blessings, Ms. Tynan,” he finally answered.
“Please call me Crystal, and thank you for noticing. Yes, I do. I believe that if you don’t go after what you want, you can’t expect it to drop in your life. Just saying whatever you want isn’t enough to make it happen.”
“That’s a go-getter philosophy,” he teased. “I bet you get what you want a good fifty percent of the time.”
She spotted the twinkle in his eye. “The odds had better be more than fifty percent.”
“You’re tough,” he said, but there was a hint of admiration in his tone.
She smiled, soothed slightly by his compliment. “Thanks.” For the first time she stepped away from the counter. “But not as tough as Aunt Helen will get if she finds out I haven’t done right by her to-do list.”
He gave an absent, “Mmm,” and gave her a slow once-over.
Her casual black cotton blouse topped a red-black-brown-and-green full-tiered skirt that hung to her ankles. On her feet were doeskin soft moccasinlike boots dressed in fringe and silver, matching the conch leather belt cinching her waist. Then he noticed her fingers for the first time. A silver ring on every finger and both thumbs. Feather earrings hung to her shoulders.
“Goodness,” he murmured.
She followed his gaze down her body to her skirt. “Colorful, isn’t it?”
“All you need is a headband of beads and you’d look as if you’d time-warped from the sixties.”
Somehow, his comment seemed a little stuffy. Instead, she smiled brightly. “Darn. I was going for the triumph over Custer look. Thank you. All that, and it’s comfortable, too.”
He frowned. “Is this the way they dress in Santa Fe?”
“Yes, only a little more casual.” She glanced down at her list as if she were too busy to notice his frown. “But I dressed up for Flagstaff.”
“Does Helen know?”
For just a fleeting moment, Crystal wanted to kick him in the shin. But with her boots on, it would hurt her as much as if she were barefoot. Instead, she turned and faced him directly, her gaze locking with his. “Aunt Helen isn’t my mother. I’m a grown woman, Blake, in case you haven’t noticed.”
His gaze dropped immediately to her breasts and a small tickle of a smile edged his mouth before he looked back into her steady, brown-eyed gaze.
She waited a moment before continuing. “I choose my own clothes, friends and jobs. Now, if we have a problem with that, let’s talk about it. Otherwise, I have work to do….” She waited for him to say something. But the female part of her couldn’t help but wish he wasn’t so handsome—especially when he was smiling.
“You’re right and I apologize for talking out of turn,” he said smiling slowly.
She could have been coy, or angry or any one of a hundred other emotions. She was none of those.
Instead, she placed a hand on his broad shoulder, went up on her tiptoes and brushed his cheek with a butterfly kiss.
Then she stepped back. “My aunt would never forgive me if I didn’t forgive you. And so, I accept your apology as long as you continue to wear that wonderful aftershave.”
His blue eyes widened. “That’s a sexist remark, Ms. Tynan. I would be accused of all kind of things if I said that to you.”
“Yes, it is,” she confirmed, still silently astounded at her own reaction to his nearness. “And, with you being so cute and all, if you said it to me about my perfume, I’d probably wear it again. However, not everyone is as open and honest as I am.”
Blake laughed. “You’re a lot like your Aunt Helen, do you know that?”
She smiled in satisfaction. “In other words, you can’t get her to conform to your idea of what’s right and what’s not, either?” She gave a low chuckle. “Thank you for the compliment. It’s one of the wonderful things that bond my aunt and I together. I want to be just like her when I grow up.”
“I wouldn’t doubt you’ll succeed. Your chances are much better than fifty percent.”
So he really did have a sense of humor. How delightful! “Tell me,” she asked. “Are there any more like you at home who might have a million or two stashed away?”
“Nope. I’m the only child of a minister and his church secretary. No big money here.” He looked at her quizzically. “Is a million important?”
“Oh, yes. Remember our discussion about money?” Crystal asked. “Well, if Aunt Helen had enough of it, she wouldn’t need to bring me all the way from New Mexico. She could have hired someone locally to help her out. And I wouldn’t have had to wait to come see her. I could have visited anytime.”
Blake gave a chuckle and turned toward the door. “I wouldn’t worry about your aunt’s financial bottom line. Helen’s got as much as she needs.” When he reached the door, he gave her one more of “those” looks—the kind that said “you’re out of my frame of reference, but you are still an intriguing woman.” She’d seen “those” looks before. In fact, she’d given one or two to men in her twenty-six years.
“Don’t take my concern wrong,” she said softly. “I’m not the worrying kind.”
“I didn’t think so for a moment.” He hesitated only a second or two. “Goodbye, Ms. Tynan,” he stated formally.
“Goodbye, Blake,” she stated informally.
Reluctantly, he continued on his way, but he gave one more sexy look over his shoulder before he left the shop.
Crystal took an extra moment to watch him walk through the mall toward his office. He had a nice walk, but it would have been more fun to watch him without his suit jacket on….
BLAKE FELT Crystal’s eyes on him all the way down to the mall office. He was irritated, stimulated and self-conscious by that knowledge.
From the moment he’d seen Crystal Tynan, he’d been intrigued. Helen had called and told him this would be Crystal’s first day and had asked him to welcome her, please. Instead, he’d forgotten what he went there for.
Crystal was a piece of work, he told himself, trying to minimize all the feelings he’d just gone through. That woman had gotten under his skin in less than a moment of not-too-close contact. By the time ten minutes had passed, he’d been intrigued in spite of himself.
She was very unlike the kind of woman he was usually drawn to. He liked a more chic appearance, a more conservative type of woman. This woman, though beautiful in her own way, looked like a free spirit. Not his type at all. To his mind, she was dressed all wrong for a store owner—especially for as elegant a shop as Helen’s floral and gift shop. Although Flagstaff was part of the Southwest and many of the clerks dressed like Crystal, she was representing the owner. His friend.
He could have kicked himself for ignoring the real reason he’d wanted her dressed differently. He had to be honest. Her clothes were fine. He’d just wanted her to be a little more like him in her choice of clothing. Perhaps a little tailored. Maybe wearing high heels that gave the illusion of legs from here to there….
Where the hell did that thought come from? Blake ditched that thought instantly, before he could react to the image.
Too late.
He wasn’t looking for complications in his life right now. And Helen was just his friend, and all he needed to worry about was whether or not Crystal Tynan would maintain the shop’s image and do the best job for Helen. The store wasn’t called Entrée for nothing. It catered to Flagstaff’s richest, most elite clientele, creating custom-designed floral arrangements and selling high-end unique gift items.
Wrong image or not, God she was beautiful. She had great hair. Taffy-colored, it sheered down her back almost touching her softly rounded hips. And those eyes. They were something. Big, uptilted, light and toasty-warm-brown and beautiful. A man could get lost in those eyes. He’d love to be looking down into them while…Squelch that thought, too. Reaching the office area of the mall, he opened the glass door and entered.
This was his favorite time of day. The mall held only employees and several mall-walkers, usually senior citizens who moved through in groups at a steady pace, enjoying the exercise as well as the controlled air-conditioning or heating. There weren’t any problems—yet.
About an hour from now, many of the walkers would join together in one of the small lunch counters or eating establishments and have breakfast and lively talks.
By noon, the theater would open its doors and the mall would be packed. Combine those two items with the after-holiday sales going on, and there would be chaos. He hoped Crystal could handle the crush.
“Hey, Marilyn,” he said as he walked by his secretary’s desk. An older woman, she was efficient and loyal. She’d been the mall’s administrative secretary since the mall had opened over six years ago. He had inherited her, and he was damn lucky to have done so. “I’ll be in my office for the next hour.”
“Okay. Fresh coffee in the pot. Let me know if you need anything,” she called, not bothering to look up. Instead, she continued going through the pile of mail stacked on top of her desk. She’d give him his portion later.
After he finished with the mail and before he had the meeting with the department store executives about the renovation plans, he might check and see how Crystal Tynan was doing. It was the prudent thing to do, seeing as she was new to the area and the business….
“AND THEN YOU CAN ADD one or two of these,” Linda instructed, picking up several large orange silk flowers.
She looked up at Crystal as if she needed guidance, but pursed her lips to keep quiet. Linda was about ten years older than Crystal, half the height and twice the size—and just as sweet as could be.
A few customers wandered around the shop and both women had already approached them, but the lookers wanted to continue looking. Meanwhile, Crystal stood behind the counter while Linda demonstrated the basics of arranging.
Crystal took one stem, stood back and eyed the arrangement before carefully inserting the orange flower in the side center.
Linda smiled. “Very good,” she said, pride evident in her voice as she praised her new student. “The symmetry is excellent.”
“Thank you.” Crystal gave a critical eye to the floral arrangement, then looked back at her teacher. “You really think so?”
“Definitely. It’s very unusual, kinda like you, but it works. Kinda like…”
“I know,” Crystal laughed. “Like me.”
“Is that for sale?” one of the customers asked as she reached the counter with her purchases. It took Crystal a moment to realize she was talking about the arrangement.
“Oh, it’s…” Linda began.
“It certainly is.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-three dollars,” Crystal announced calmly. “Marked down for the January sales.”
The woman smiled. “I’ll take it.”
With an efficiency of movement, Linda took the woman’s charge card and wrote up the item, then packed it carefully in wrap and bag. It wasn’t until the woman left the store with her new purchase that both of them burst out laughing.
“Told you that it was unique. You’ve got talent,” Linda said in satisfaction.
“That and thirty-three bucks will get you a floral arrangement from Entrée,” Crystal stated in a low whisper. “Let’s do one more before I take a break and stalk around the mall.”
“You’re on.” Linda reached for another bowl, a brilliant purple one this time. “Get going, Ms. Tynan.”
Crystal began choosing silk flowers from their holders, red, gold and a lighter purple; Mardi Gras colors. As she picked one, held it against the other and continued to choose, she decided it was about time to ask other questions. “Linda? What can you tell me about Blake Wright?” Not that she was interested. She was just curious. After all, she should be interested in her aunt’s friend.
Linda pursed her lips thoughtfully, but there was a curious light in her eyes. “Well, he’s the manager of this mall, and has been for two years. They brought him in from somewhere up north. He’s thirty-something and strict on his rules and regulations about the mall. A little bit of a stuffed shirt, but the women don’t seem to mind. And he used to date one of the buyers of the main department store here.”
“Is she still in Flagstaff?”
“No, she was transferred.” Linda frowned. “He didn’t seem half as upset as she was, but you know how men are. When it comes to emotions, they never show anything.”
Although a little on the shy side, Linda obviously held very firm opinions in a general kind of way. Especially about the male species.
“I don’t run into too many men like that,” Crystal murmured, sticking another flower into the wire cage at the bottom of the vase. “I work with a lot of guys who do nothing but moan about women all day long.”
Linda’s eyes widened, suspiciously. “Really?”
Nodding her head Crystal laughed.
They worked all morning, Crystal following Linda like a shadow as she learned the quirks and procedures of the shop and her Aunt Helen’s way of doing business.
Having a myriad of jobs over the years made it easy to walk into a store and pick up the routine pretty quickly. Before she became a masseuse, she’d had a new job every quarter. It was fun. So was working in her aunt’s shop. It wasn’t for long, and then she’d be back at her own job and seeking the elusive millionaire who would fall in love and marry her, allowing her access to a whole new world.
Hers was a simple plan, really. She would enjoy her life to the fullest, trying all the things she wanted to try in her quest for the perfect career opportunity—something that would fill her days with challenge and laughter and money. Hard work and enjoyment went hand in hand to her way of thinking. She was willing to search for the finest of relationships, never settling for something less than the best.
She firmly believed that people made their own happiness. From what she’d seen, ninety percent of someone’s happiness came from the mate that he or she chose. For her, the best relationships had to do with the right man. The second ingredient for happiness was money. With it, many of the everyday problems of life were solved before they began.
Ergo: she needed to fall in love and marry a millionaire who possessed a whole list of qualities Crystal required—trust, sense of humor, nice looks and a sense of adventure. And one who loved her as much as she loved him. That was a must.
How hard could that be? When working at the exclusive hotel, she was in the right business and the right place to meet wealthy businessmen. In fact, she’d met several, but, as of yet, not the right one. It wasn’t that money was the only criteria. She needed more than money, but money was part of the equation. That sense of humor thing was really important, too. So was trust.
Keeping her goal of the perfect relationship in sight left all thoughts of entertaining a deeper relationship with Blake Wright out of her personal picture. He was sexy and handsome, but he wasn’t wealthy. That meant she wouldn’t look any further.
It wasn’t that Blake wasn’t worth a second look; it was that she had her heart set in a different direction. A different goal.
“Lunchtime,” Linda said, touching her arm. “Shelly will be here in a few minutes to help cover for you. But if you want, why don’t you go now and look around a little? We don’t have any crunch to deal with right now.”
“Thanks,” Crystal said, reaching for her small, crocheted purse. Slinging it over her shoulder, she gave a wave and walked out.
Five minutes later, Crystal stared at the particularly unusual piece of art in a store window as she began walking away—only to walk right into Blake Wright’s arms.
Her first reaction was a shiver of apprehension at the scent of danger.
Her second reaction was an exhilarating sense of delight.
But it wasn’t the same reaction for Blake Wright. The handsome man was frowning down at her, his hands holding her arms as if they were iron railings and he was falling….

2
“WE’VE GOT to keep meeting like this,” Crystal said, enjoying being in his arms even though his expression resembled a thundercloud. “I love surprises.”
“You weren’t looking where you were going.” His frown made his thick, arched brows meet over the strong bridge of his nose.
And, of course she hadn’t been watching, or she wouldn’t be in his arms now. The way he said it, it sounded like an accusation. “No, I wasn’t, was I?” she said brightly. “But I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.”
“What?” If possible, the crease between his brows grew deeper.
“Well, I ran into the arms of a handsome man who is pure gentleman and with whom I’m safe.”
He continued to frown. Where was this man’s sense of humor? Apparently, her words didn’t please him any more than her actions. “It could have been different.”
Crystal gently pulled away. “But it wasn’t,” she reminded him firmly. “So I won’t spend time worrying about what could have been.”
He dropped his hands to his sides and she continued to walk. “Where are you going?”
Crystal raised her brows. “I beg your pardon?” It was her coolest voice, and it usually worked well with men in stalling any personal question.
It didn’t seem to faze him. “It’s lunchtime. Where are you going?”
“Eventually to the flower shop’s back room. I have my own meal from home.” She took another step back. “But right now, I’m walking the mall and checking out the window displays.”
Blake hesitated a moment, and Crystal realized he didn’t know quite what to say. She took pity on him. “Do you have a few minutes to walk along with me?”
He gave a quick nod. “A few. I’d like that.”
Crystal pulled out a plastic sandwich bag from her purse and opened it, offering him a taste as if it were Godiva chocolate. “Would you like a carrot stick?”
“Carrot?” He peered inside the bag.
He couldn’t be that ignorant. Carrots were good for a body, and he had to know that. “It won’t hurt, I promise,” she said, then something else caught her eye.
Her gaze rested on the next window. It was filled with young children’s clothing; all the latest styles. She stopped and studied the bright colors, the way the mannequins had their soft cotton overall pant legs rolled, and the brilliant neon-colored buckets of sand for decoration. She forgot for a moment that he was standing by her side.
“Do you like children?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She continued studying the window. “Love them. Especially if they belong to someone else and they’re already little people, like these mannequins. See that tunnel?” she asked, pointing to the child-size plastic tunnel that ran around a square inside. It was meant to keep the children happy while their parents shopped.
“Yes.”
“They never had those when I was growing up. I’ve always wanted to go through one of those.”
His brows, so expressive, rose. “What for?”
“For the fun of it.”
“There are other ways to have fun, Ms. Tynan.”
She laughed, then began walking toward the next window, eager to see what the other merchants had done with their windows. “I mean so I could be with kids—kids who can talk and walk and explore the wonders of the world. Not babies,” she said conversationally.
It took him a moment or so to catch up with her thoughts and answer them. “I thought all women liked babies.”
“I don’t know about all women. Just me, and I do. And I will know more about them when I have one of my own. But for now, I like the ones that can tell me what they need.” She chewed her carrot stick, then reached for another one. “My goddaughter, Brenna, is three, and it’s a wonderful age.”
“I thought three was an awful age.”
Crystal stopped and thought a moment. “No. I think those are the terrible twos.”
“You mean they turn three, and the terrible twos are over? Candles, cakes and then the big change?” he asked.
Crystal slowed in midstep. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him in wonder. “You just made a joke.”
He stopped and faced her, blocking out the current window dressing. “And?”
“I’m startled. That’s all.” She was shocked, but she wouldn’t let him know how shocked she was.
“Why?”
“Well,” she began, studying the faint crinkle lines around his beautiful blue eyes. If he ever fully smiled, her heart better watch out! “Until now, you’ve hardly done anything but frown at me since we met this morning.”
“That’s not true.” But the light in his eyes told the story. He just realized she was right, and how stern he’d been with her.
“Yes, it is,” she contested softly, gently, unwilling to begin another argument but not willing to agree for the sake of agreement, either. “And your smile is dynamite, as is the twinkle in your handsome blue eyes.”
Blake gave a rueful sigh. “First you accuse me of being a grouch, act as if I’m anal retentive, and then you tell me I’m handsome. Are you always so direct?”
“I try to be,” she said modestly, pleased that he could at least read her correctly. There might be hope for him yet, even though it’d be with another woman. “And don’t forget honest.”
He gave a laugh, delightful lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes again. His smile truly was dynamite, when he used it. Darn. Taking his arm, she turned him around and began walking again. “Well, in that case, Blake, you can continue with me on this quest of mine for a lesson in window dressing—as long as you occasionally smile.”
“Another sexist remark, Ms. Tynan?” Blake asked dryly. “If a man said that, he’d be considered a pig.”
“So be it, Blake,” she said, laughter in her voice. “But there has to be some retribution for your sex’s behavior over the past two thousand years. I’m just one woman doing my part to show you the way to change your outlook and ego stance.”
“You flatter me. I feel so…”
“Feminine?” she interjected.
“No. Like a sex object.”
“Lucky you,” she said, patting his arm. “You never know when it’s your lucky day.”
His laughter was so delightfully sexy, Crystal had to stop and look at him again. The pride of making him laugh warmed her insides. Without thinking, she went on tiptoe and touched his lips, lightly brushing them with hers. “Thank you for such a delightful sound.”
His laughter stopped and he sucked in his breath. “You’re welcome,” he finally managed to say. But he sounded strangled and the hold on her hand against his body tightened.
She liked that.
One of the women’s lingerie store windows was having a chilly month, displaying seductive bras and panties in cream and white silks and rayons on mannequins also wearing winter hats. Large snowflakes on invisible strings hung from the ceiling and the floor was covered in tiny snowflakes.
Crystal stopped and stared, making mental notes of the techniques that the window dresser had used to emphasize the hot, sexy appeal of the undergarments in the snowstorm scene. She paid close attention to where thumbtacks were secured, what kind of paper was used to create the snowflakes and how the mannequins were positioned and the choices of lingerie on view from affordable to extravagant.
“Ms. Tynan?” Blake’s voice was low but urgent.
“Mmm?” she asked, still staring at the details of the window.
“Can we leave this setting?”
“What?” She looked up at him. It took a minute to recognize a definitely uncomfortable male. “Oh,” she said. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t say anything, but the expression on his handsome face revealed his relief. Crystal chewed another carrot stick to hide her smile as they continued to stroll through the mall.
Blake stopped in front of a cafeteria, where the line was already out the door. “Can I interest you in something to eat?”
“Not today, but if you ask me tomorrow, I’ll be sure not to bring my lunch.” She looked around. “I like cafeterias. They cater to my weird taste.”
“Somehow, I knew that.”
“Good, then we’ll meet tomorrow for lunch?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” he confirmed, glancing at his watch.
If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said he was reluctant to end their meeting until that telltale look at the time. He obviously had an appointment scheduled. That wasn’t good for the digestion, but until she could teach him differently, it was his way.
“See you tomorrow,” she promised with a smile. And with a wave, Crystal set off down the other side of the mall, still peering into windows and studying the various display techniques.
She felt Blake’s eyes on her for a few moments, then she knew he’d disappeared.
He was an oddity. So handsome, yet he didn’t seem to be quite aware of it himself. So uptight in his thoughts and actions, that he believed it was normal to be so shut off from others. So sophisticated in business, yet unable to study a window that had women’s underwear. And he had one heck of a great body, but didn’t eat carrot sticks….
Unusual to say the least.
Crystal knew she was a bit unconventional, but she wasn’t that far out of the loop of normal! And she was told she had a great sense of humor—of course she was told that by friends who shared the same sense of sublime silliness.
Besides, she had as much of a right to be silly or businesslike as much as she had a right to be herself. It took her a while to realize it, but she knew now that she could be anything she wanted to be without having to fit into someone else’s idea of normal or conventional. In the past few years she’d noticed something startling: everyone’s idea of normal was different.
Aunt Helen was right. You can’t please everyone all the time, so please yourself first—as long as it doesn’t hurt someone else.
Her watch told her that if she hurried, she’d have ten minutes to eat her lunch. Yogurt and two pieces of fresh fruit along with a bottle of water flavored with cranberry juice awaited her in the back room.
Surprisingly, her first day on the job at Aunt Helen’s store was the most fun she’d had in a while. She couldn’t wait to see how she felt tomorrow, when she had lunch with Blake Wright.
Crystal grinned. It was funny to call him Blake while he called her Ms. Tynan. But she refused to give up the right to call him by his first name. In every telephone conversation with her aunt over the past two years, Helen had referred to him as Blake. Crystal wasn’t about to learn a new name for the man her aunt had spoken of. Part of her was hoping she’d come to know the same Blake as her aunt did. That Blake had a sense of humor and was a lot of fun, if her aunt was to be believed—and if the peek at him she’d just had was really real. In fact, Crystal was praying for him to be the same. The glimpses of the man she’d seen beneath his disapproving attitude was nice. Sweet. And very human.
It was that stiff attitude he occasionally wore that she wasn’t too sure of being able to handle without giving him directions on where to take it. But then, if she could handle her boss, Tim, at the lodge, she could handle anything. Now there was a stiff. The difference was, she wasn’t the least bit interested in seeing if there was another side to Tim. She had to admit, at least to herself, that she would love to see the other side of Blake…. If only for a little while.
BLAKE WATCHED Crystal walk away, his eyes straying from her small shoulders and tiny waist to her swaying hips. Her walk was free and sensuous and feminine. Her shoulders moved with a rhythm that was also feminine. But if he’d seen that walk on a male, he’d have called it cocky. On this woman, it was just damn sexy.
He gave himself a mental shake, and deliberately looked away. What the hell was on his mind that he would get so wrapped up in a woman’s walk? Especially this woman?
She was his opposite and he was astute enough to know it. Although she was beautiful in a very unusual way, there was more that called to a male than her looks. It was the light behind her eyes. The promise of her constantly uptilted lips. The softness of her body in all the right places.
She was made for loving. Like it or not, he had to admit he was drawn to her physically. And that could never be if he wanted to keep his friendship with Helen. After all, he couldn’t be friends with the aunt, whom he genuinely liked and admired, while making love to the niece until he tired of the kook. It wasn’t right. Crystal wasn’t right for him.
Too free-spirited.
Too casual.
Too…sexy.
Blake strode to the food court and ordered a roast beef sandwich, then took it back into his office to work through lunch.
But all through his meal, he was angry with himself for his body’s intense reaction to Crystal’s sexiness in the first place.
She was just exactly the wrong type for him.
BY THE TIME Crystal turned out the store lights for the night and twisted the key in the lock, she was excited. She had crammed her day with learning something new every hour, and it had paid off. Her creative juices were flowing like Niagara Falls.
Her aunt’s business was good, with repeat customers making up at least sixty percent of the business. Her small knickknacks and floral decorations were beautiful, if a bit bland.
But Crystal would love to buy a few different, oddball items, mix them in with the bland stuff and dress up the store with unusual, one-of-a-kind decorator touches. Do some different stuff, as her friend, Ouida Vestal, used to say.
Still thinking of things she’d like to do, she drove to her aunt’s home. It was on the side of a hill with the desert stark and beautiful in one direction, and the beginning of a wide canyon filled with trees at the back door. Her aunt and uncle had been lucky enough to find a piece of property that had the best of both worlds and had made the most of it. Her aunt owned enough of the land to block out someone’s building and ruining her view.
When Crystal walked into the house, she took a deep breath. The chill outside air counterpointed the scents wafting from the kitchen. Pot roast, fresh bread and some kind of pie.
“I’m home!” she called, taking off her sweater and hanging it in the hallway. “And you’re supposed to be resting!”
“I’m glad you’re home and I am resting!” her aunt called back.
Crystal walked into the large den area and found her mother’s twin sitting in a deep-yellow upholstered chair with her feet on the matching ottoman. Her arm was in a cast and swathed in a beautiful silk scarf instead of the usual, hospital-issued, cotton sling. It was coordinated with her matching maroon silk pajamas. She was watching the fireplace and listening to the television.
“How was the shop?” she asked, lifting her head for her niece’s kiss. Her hennaed hair was cut short in the back but long on top, with soft curls going in every direction. Aunt Helen was a good-looking woman. Her eyes were much like Crystal’s, a rich deep brown, but radiated the wisdom and maturity of her fifty years.
“It was the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on.” Crystal got a slap on the bottom for that wild remark.
Instead of commenting on the hit, she took the matching chair, propped up her feet and leaned back, loving the luxury of doing nothing. “It’s a great little store. I brought the receipts home with me so you can show me what to deposit and how to call in the charges, then enter them into Hugo, over there.” She aimed her chin toward the computer hidden in the armoire section of the wall unit. “Were you so afraid of my cooking you had to put yourself through hours in the kitchen?”
“Not at all,” Aunt Helen said calmly. “Michael brought over a pie, Kenneth and his daughter made a pot roast with potatoes and carrots, and Mab, next door, just made homemade rolls.” She grinned. “So we have dinner compliments of my friends.”
“How nice. Better still, what nice friends.” Crystal meant it. Her aunt seemed to draw people to her like moths to a flame. It was no wonder, she had warmth and a sense of fun that was contagious.
“I’m lucky, and in more than one way, darling. Most of the men my age are looking for a wife, and they’re ready to do whatever it takes to have one so they’re not alone.”
“And you’re willing to help them in this?”
“Not at all. I don’t have time,” her aunt replied calmly.
“No? Come on,” Crystal said, disbelieving.
Her aunt sighed dramatically. “So many men, so little time.”
“I can’t believe you really said that.”
Aunt Helen chuckled. “Don’t worry. It’s not true. I’m a widow and at an age when most single men are getting panicked because they don’t have someone to take care of them in their old age. They’re beating the bushes at the same time they’re showing eligible women how self-sufficient they are.”
“And are you?” Crystal said, finally stirring enough to realize her aunt probably needed a little something to drink. “Eligible, I mean.”
“Never. Not on a bet.” The older woman laughed. “I’m not about to ruin a good thing by allowing someone to think of me as a wife instead of a marvelous, seductive woman to be sought and captured…almost.”
Crystal stretched and sat up. It had been a long day. “Can I get you a glass of ice water?”
“No, thank you. I already drank enough to make a camel jealous.” She watched her niece walk into the kitchen. “Check the pot roast would you?”
Crystal did, then came out with two glasses of white Chablis. “Dinner will be ready whenever you are, Aunt Helen.” She handed her aunt one of the glasses.
“So, tell me about your day,” Helen asked eagerly as she took a sip of the cooled wine. “Did you meet Blake yet?”
“I certainly did. He’s as handsome as you said he was, but with very little humor and even less of an easy manner. In fact, he was the most uptight man I’ve ever met.”
“Blake?” Her aunt sounded confused.
That obviously wasn’t strong enough to make an impression on her aunt. Crystal decided she had to emphasize the fact that she felt cheated by his attitude. “Even the millionaires I work with aren’t that uptight.”
Helen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Blake?” she repeated.
“Blake,” Crystal reaffirmed. “I spent half an hour with him this morning, then we walked around the mall a little.”
“Walked around the mall?” Now Aunt Helen sounded downright disbelieving.
Crystal nodded then continued. “In all that time, he smiled twice—well maybe three times. But that was it. The rest of the time he looked at me as if I were a two-day-old fish.”
“I’m so surprised,” Helen stated. “He’s always been so warm and fun with me. Although we’ve never walked around the mall, we’ve been friends ever since we first met.”
“Maybe he’s interested in you,” Crystal suggested. The words didn’t taste any better on her tongue than the thought had.
“If he was,” Helen stated, “it’s the best kept secret in the mall. Even I don’t know about it. But then, there’s too much of an age difference between us.”
“Men and women have had eighteen-year age differences before, and overcame it.”
“Yes, but not women and men. This is a different difference, and I’m not willing to have a relationship with someone that young any more than I’m willing to have one with someone that much older than I am.”
Crystal giggled.
“Now stop ignoring the topic of conversation and tell me what else happened with Blake.”
“Not much.” Crystal gave a shrug and glanced out the back window at the sharp edge of forest. “All he did was give me disapproving looks and tell me what he thought was wrong with my way of thinking.”
“Now, I wonder why I don’t believe that.” Her aunt didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, she rearranged her scarf. “You spent a long time with the man. Longer than anyone else he doesn’t know.”
“Really?” she asked, trying to ignore the flash of delight her aunt’s words delivered. “I didn’t notice. It’s probably because of his friendship with you.”
“Of course,” Helen stated dryly. “Why didn’t I think of that? You’re my niece so he’s sworn to spend an hour with you because he is worried about me. It’s his way of sending greetings instead of visits or dinner.”
“Well, it really doesn’t matter,” Crystal stated airily as she stood and walked toward the kitchen. “He’s just a friend of yours who, in his own stiff way, tried to be friendly to me for the day. It’s over and now I’ll get us dinner.”
“Methinks, my niece, that you doth protest too much,” Helen said, a lilt in her tone.
“Methinks, my aunt, that you have a problem perceiving relationship problems.” She refused to mention she was having lunch with Blake tomorrow. It was a secret she wanted to keep to herself for a little while longer.
They ate while watching the news, each one easy with the other’s presence. It was relaxing and nice, reminding Crystal of her teenage years when her own mother had died and Helen had become her surrogate mom. It had been a rough time, but Aunt Helen had made it bearable.
But dancing in the back of Crystal’s mind were some of the windows she’d seen in the mall. She wanted to try her hand at something different than the ordinary and average. She wasn’t sure how, yet. But if she studied the problem, it would come to her.
Solutions always did.
Half an hour after the news, she kissed her aunt good-night. “I’ll see you in the morning, dear. If you need me, call and I’ll hear you.”
“I’ll be fine, Crystal. I broke my arm, not my head. And I feel frustrated enough not being able to the do what I want,” the older woman groused. “Just give me another week or two, and I’ll find my stride again.”
“I’ll give you six weeks, Aunt. No less,” she promised, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
But after Crystal was in her bedroom at the end of the hall for fifteen minutes, she found herself too keyed up to be able to sleep. No matter what, her thoughts wound back to Blake and their talk. She relived everything he said and did. Every movement he made. Every emotion that he brought out in her. And she became more awake by the minute.
He was so frustrating. Was there a wild, devil-may-care bone in his body? Did he ever run naked through his apartment? What about belly laughs that massaged his every organ?
Forcing herself to focus on something else, she lit one of the scented candles she’d brought with her from Santa Fe and sat cross-legged in the center of her bed. With her hands palms up and open to all kinds of possibilities, she took several deep breaths to cleanse her body of all the pent-up carbon monoxide she’d cultivated all day. After a few minutes, she did her transcendental meditation. If it was good enough for half the doctors in the world to proclaim it as calming medication for the heart, then it was good enough for her to quickly erase the provocative image of a more free, spontaneous, Blake Wright running through a field of mountain flowers in joyous abandon—naked.
She hoped.

3
“SO FAR, your floral designs with the wild color combinations have sold like hotcakes!” Standing at the cash register, Linda sounded just a little shocked by that fact as she watched a woman holding one of Crystal’s floral arrangements walk out of the store.
Crystal, standing at the work counter, laughed. “It’s the price, Linda. My creations don’t sell for as much as Aunt Helen’s or yours because they’re not as elaborate.”
“Oh, I’m sure, and the colors aren’t found in the usual Entrée type of arrangements.” She sounded so puzzled that Crystal almost felt sorry for her.
“I know, but you see, customers get to walk out of here with an original from a very exclusive shop and feel as if they got a bargain.”
Linda’s face lit up. “Of course. They get the Entrée name without paying the full Entrée price or getting the Entrée colors.” Her words finally sunk into her own thoughts and her eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t mean that your efforts weren’t good! I mean, they must be or they wouldn’t have sold at all and they’d still be sitting on the shelf and not being sold….”
Crystal gave her new friend a hug. “Don’t worry. I understand what you’re trying to say and I appreciate it. But I know they’re not the same as what the store usually stocks.”
Then yet another customer came up to the counter with one of Crystal’s creations and set it down. Without saying a word, she pulled out her Visa card and offered it in payment.
“The yellow, blue and cream,” Linda said, as amazed as she’d been earlier.
It took everything Crystal had to make sure she didn’t laugh aloud. “That will be thirty-six dollars,” she said as she ran the card through the machine.
Within seconds she had a funny feeling. A very distinct and definite funny feeling.
Blake was close by.
She handed the woman a pen while her gaze searched the front door area. But she’d waited too late to spot him there. He was already inside the shop and standing to the right of the register area, studying one of her creations with a quizzical look on his somber handsome face. Obviously, he didn’t understand the attraction, either.
Crystal would have bet that the colors and design were just a little too wild for Blake to take a liking to. It wasn’t his taste at all. Just like its creator.
Just then, he looked up and locked eyes with her. He stared at her as deeply as he had examined the arrangement. Just for a change of pace—and to shock him a little by proving she could do it if she wanted to—Crystal had worn makeup at full war-paint level and had wrapped her hair to the top back of her head, securing it with an Oriental hair pin. It ached to be let loose and fall and tumble about her shoulders. Small, golden tendrils curled around her hairline, emphasizing her features. Then she topped it off with a short-skirted navy suit with a bright-red blouse. And high—very high—heels.
It was an occasion. She donned this outfit maybe once a year and reveled in the double takes she got from people who knew her. Until Blake said something about it, she wasn’t going to comment, either. But his reaction was worth a thousand words. She just wanted to prove she could look the executive when she wanted to. He’d probably never see it again.
“Are you here to identify me in a lineup, or to take me to lunch?” she asked casually while separating the paper receipts. She turned back to her customer before he could answer. “Thank you for your business, and if we can help you customize an arrangement, please let us know. We’ll be glad to make one with your personal colors.”
“Thank you,” the woman said delightedly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So, you remembered we were having lunch today?” he asked, after the customer had left the store.
“Of course. I was just waiting for you to tell me where to meet you.” She grinned. “You could have saved yourself the trip and called with the info. I could have met you.”
His gaze wandered down her body, straying here and there and causing heat to rise in her like sap in spring. It was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to light his fire. But he never cracked a smile at her choice of wardrobe. “I always pick up my dates.”
“In that case, Blake, I’m ready.” Ignoring his formality, she moved over to his side, took his arm and gave a short wave to Linda, who was watching as if there was nothing else going on in the world.
“Where are we going?” Crystal said as they passed through the store and into the mall area.
He tightened his arm at his side as if to keep and capture her hand. “To my office. Do you mind?”
Crystal stopped and, unwilling to let her go, Blake stopped with her, waiting for her to speak.
“Are you attempting to ravish my body during lunch without permission?” she asked, cautiously.
A light flared in his deep-blue eyes. “No. I’d never do that.”
Darn. He was still in control and still building tension between them. Blake was some kinda guy. “Are your intentions honorable?”
His sculpted mouth twitched. “Of course.”
She laughed softly. “Liar.”
“That’s not true. If I say it, I mean it.” He finally let a small smile through. “Although I can only guarantee now, Ms. Tynan. I can’t guarantee later.”
An almost joke. He was warming up, and warming up her heart, too. She tugged on his arm. “Let’s go, then. You can’t do anything without getting between me and my food. I won’t stand for it.”
“Now I know where your priorities lie,” he said, his steady gait once more leading her toward his office.
She kept pace by taking two rickety steps to every one he took. But she wasn’t going to admit how hard it was for her to walk on stilts. Instead, she continued to trip along. “You seem like the kind of guy who always knew where you stood. Since the age of two, anyway.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked, obviously surprised at her observation.
“Because you’re so controlled. So…” she began.
“Rigid?” His husky voice sounded as dry as dust.
This wasn’t the time to lie. After all, she didn’t know him well enough to lie, yet. For something like that, you had to have a history and want to save someone’s feelings. “So you know.”
“If I didn’t know before, I’ve got that feeling now.”
“From me?” she asked.
He held open the office glass door. Marilyn wasn’t at her desk. “Especially from you.” He took her arm and led her firmly past his office into the conference room.
“I’m so sorry if I…” Crystal stopped. The walnut conference table had a thick, white tablecloth draped over one end. The table was set formally, right down to crystal water glasses. “Oh, my,” she breathed.
She had expected cafeteria food on a tray or from a metal basket lined with paper. Or maybe sandwiches in clear, plastic sleeves. But this…well, this was far more than she’d imagined. The privacy, good linens, formal setting—all, made it so very special.
Plain white containers covered in shiny metal sat in front of the place settings. Crystal lifted a cover and sniffed. Then lifted another cover and sniffed again before looking over her shoulder at the man who watched her so intently. It smelled heavenly. “Thai?”
“Vietnamese.”
Her eyes lit up. “Um, spicy.”
“Yes.” He grinned. “I figured it fit you.” His slow grin was catching, to say nothing about sexy as all-get-out.
She gave a short curtsy, proud of herself for not letting her stiletto heels tip her over. “Thank you.”
Blake pulled out a side chair and offered her the seat. Feeling like the princess in a fairy tale, Crystal took it. Blake sat at the end of the table and reached for his napkin. Crystal followed suit, a little slower than Blake. She was so conscious of his every move—until the tantalizing scent of well-prepared food wafted her way again and reminded her stomach just how hungry she was.
Without hesitating any longer, she helped herself to sampling the containers on the table. “Is this from one of the mall restaurants?” she asked, taking a double helping of the freshly steamed vegetables.
“No, it’s from a restaurant downtown.” Blake helped himself from a far container, then passed it to her. “Have you eaten Vietnamese before?”
“Yes, and I love it.” Crystal took a bite and rolled her eyes, drawing another smile from Blake. Good. Getting a good reaction from him was more satisfying than a full stomach.
They talked about foods and restaurant experiences they treasured. Crystal watched his mouth move, his changing expressions flow across his face and enjoyed his smile and twinkling blue eyes as he relaxed. Even if he was a little uptight, the man was far more fascinating than anything he could state about food. Not that she didn’t like the topic.
“This is my second favorite topic of conversation,” she announced, then watched his eyes light up again.
“Can I ask?”
“No.” Her smile softened the negative reply. Why would he want to talk about massage therapy right now?
Blake reached for a small thermal coffee pot and poured them both some. She indulged him in it. She hadn’t said no, and certainly hadn’t mentioned in their conversations that she only drank green tea. Besides, a couple of sips of coffee wouldn’t hurt.
“Do you always wear suits?” she asked, noting his sophisticated blue suit.
“Most of the time. Especially when I’m at work.”
“Why not more casual?”
“You have something against suits?” Those thick brows rose in challenge.
But she wasn’t stopping now. “They’re very formal. Don’t you find they put the average mall customer off?”
“I don’t run into the average mall customer very often, Crystal,” he reminded her in a voice that said he was teaching someone the rudiments about his job. “I deal with executives across the country who need space for stores, or specialty-shop owners who can afford long leases. I check them out financially and make the best deal for the mall corporation, whom I represent.”
“Then who takes care of any complaints from customers or security?”
“My secretary handles customers, along with a part-time young man who acts as an assistant. And Jet, a retired policeman is head of security and the guards.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t anything like she imagined. Somehow, she’d thought of him as working on a slightly smaller scale. “So you work with the major department stores as well as the small stores like Entrée?”
“Right.”
He was one man against the many. “You must get tired of the pressure by the end of the day.”
“Especially physically.” He smiled, dodging her question. “I get tired of standing on my feet on concrete when I’m negotiating space. Then sooner or later, I get a backache from the tension.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“In fact,” he said, stretching out his legs and heaving a sigh. “That’s what I’ve been doing for the past three days.”
“And are the people you’re dealing with going to rent space?”
“Don’t know yet. I’ve got another two or three weeks, maybe months to negotiate with them. They’re a major department store that the Chamber of Commerce wants to see build in the city. So do I, but not for the same reasons.”
She didn’t think about what she was about to do. She just did it. Crystal pushed her chair back and reached between them, wrapping her palm around his ankle and pulled it up to her lap.
“What are you doing?” he asked, startled.
“I won’t hurt you. Just relax,” she commanded. “I’m rubbing your foot. It’s what I do for a living, remember?”
She untied his wing tip’s shoelaces and slipped off his shoe, ignoring his tugging against her. “Wing tips? I thought they went out with my grandfather.”
He pulled his foot away again, but she resisted. “Crystal…” he began.
He called her Crystal. That made her feel so much better. The formality was finally over, and all it had taken was exposing his foot. Patting the sole, she reassured him. “Can’t you take a gift? I usually charge people to do this—and they line up for the opportunity.”
Blake hesitated only seconds more before resigning himself to her touch. She began rubbing the bottom pads of his well-clad toes, one by one.
“I’m not sure this is done on a first date.” Blake eventually sighed, leaning back and completely giving in to her touch.
“Really?” She rotated the ball of his foot, then his ankle. “Are you saying this is a real first date?”
“Mmm. What did you think? That I ask all store managers to lunch?”
“No, I thought you were doing this because of my aunt,” she said. All her concentration was on his foot. He had a good, strong foot with a high arch. An excellent sign of a healthy body. She made a fist and rubbed the arch to heel, then back again.
Blake groaned in delight. The deep, rough sound was erotic, sending chills down her spine. He cleared his throat. “This isn’t very romantic, Crystal.”
She rubbed her knuckles along the side of his foot. “Really? What do you think is romantic? Sex?”
He looked startled, his blue eyes widening. “Are you always so blunt?”
She wouldn’t tell him that her curiosity wouldn’t settle for less. “Would you rather I act coy and charming and not let you know what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling?” She rubbed the ball of each toe, especially the big one, to stimulate his brain.
He gave a small satisfied grunt as she hit the spot that marked his inhibitions. He was most tense there. Good. He could stand loosening up a little. “Does it have to be one way or the other? Isn’t there a happy medium?”
“There is, but most people don’t recognize it when they see it.” She rubbed his toes again, taking slow care to work each underside pad for his spine. “For instance, I never said a word about your shoes before now. Nor did I mention sex. I kept it to myself and got no credit for doing so, until now.”
“Thank you,” he said.
She gave a smile that told him she wasn’t giving up on the discussion. “You mentioned romance and I wanted to know your opinion. Is sex the same as romance to you?”
Giving a quick glance through her lashes, she found him carefully studying her. If she hadn’t looked, she never would have known that his skin seemed to have tanned and flushed highlights. He was blushing.
Interesting.
“Sex is a part of romance.” It sounded more like a strangled confession than a conversation. He obviously didn’t talk about it much. If ever.
Crystal’s fingers stroked the back of the heel, then worked up to the ankle bone, rubbing and stimulating that part of his foot which, according to reflexology, was connected to his sexual organs. Her fingers massaged softly yet firmly. She knew what she was doing, but he didn’t.
His flush increased.
It wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t be stimulating him this way. After all, she wasn’t willing to do anything about the sexual feelings she was creating.
“Let me have your other foot,” she said, patting the top of his foot to let him know she was through.
“Hmmm?” he asked absently, observing his foot as if it belonged to someone else.
She lowered his foot to the floor. “Your other foot?”
Blake sat up straight. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” he said briskly.
“You’d better take advantage of me now, Blake. I’m here and I’m willing, so give me your other foot and let me complete the job.” Crystal leaned forward to reach for his other foot, but stopped in midreach.
Blake stared back, his eyes delving into her in a way that washed chill bumps down her spine. Thoughts better left unsaid passed between them. Vivid, heated images flashed through her mind, and all of them had to do with making love with the man in front of her.
Keeping his eyes locked with hers, very slowly, Blake leaned forward. He came closer and closer to Crystal. Without a doubt, she knew what was going to happen. It was written in his eyes and flooded through her in the form of want. Want to taste. Want to touch. Every warning bell in her went off loudly. This man wasn’t for her. He wasn’t wealthy, he wasn’t free and easy. He wasn’t funny or people-oriented. No. Not at all.
Yet, while thinking all this so clearly, she leaned even closer, meeting him halfway across the space that divided them. His warm breath flowed across her face like a caress. His sculpted mouth was so close to her own that she could touch him with her lips to sip just a little taste of him. That ought to soothe her appetite.
Just one taste…
Blake’s mouth pulled back, just inches from hers. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his voice rough and deep, running like a shivering-cold river through her.
“I wish you would.”
He was no longer Mr. Nice Guy. “Come here,” he ordered.
And she did.
When his mouth touched hers, Crystal’s breath caught in her throat. A wonderful zing slipped down her spine, then pulsated through the rest of her. He brushed her lips, then brushed again before capturing hers, holding her captive with the touch of his mouth alone.
Mouth clung to mouth, his daring hers to remain passive and to ignore the intense chemistry that pulsed between them. She felt warm and bubbly and smooth and sweet and sexy, melting and melding with him. So many more emotions flowed through her—most she could not even begin to analyze. She couldn’t; her mind wasn’t working properly. It was engaging emotions without thought….
Blake’s hand touched the side of her face, his fingers burying themselves in her thick strands of hair, holding her even closer. Crystal knew she wanted so much more of him than was possible. Right now.
Again, she ignored the clanging sound of warning bells. With both hands, she reached up to hold his head close while her tongue darted out to explore his. “More,” she finally whispered. “I want more.”
The moan that echoed from deep in his chest was her answer.
Before she could take action, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her into the firm haven of his lap. He settled her within the confines of his legs.
She went willingly, circling her arms around his neck and holding on as if he were the lifeline in a turbulent sea.
Blake took command, teaching her quickly that she only thought she had initiated his interest. His lust. His own special brand of sexiness. His tongue led her in a sensuous dance that told her who was boss and why. The alpha male, the lone leader of the pack.
But she couldn’t let him think that she was giving in. After all, she was female and also in charge. With hands that shook, she ran her fingers inside his jacket, lacing them across his chest, teasing his nipples through his lightly starched shirt as much as he teased her with his tongue and hands that circled and touched everywhere but on her heavy breasts.
Heaven. Heaven was the image of Blake lying her on the conference table and…
“Boss?” a female voice called.
Although Crystal heard the voice, it didn’t register right away.
Blake pulled his mouth from hers and dragged in a harsh breath. His heart pumped heavily beneath her hand. “I’ll be right there, Marilyn. Give me a minute, will you?”
“Right,” she said. “You’ve got an appointment in half an hour.”
It finally registered. Blake’s secretary had almost walked into the room and caught them in a clinch that had far more to do with sex than sweetness.
She rested her forehead against his shoulder for a moment as she caught her breath. “You miscalculated,” she murmured, afraid to raise her voice for fear it would crack with emotion.
“How?”
Crystal gathered her emotions together and tucked them away, to be diagnosed later. Right now she had to get out of here with dignity intact. “You should have kissed me earlier.”
She stood and smoothed her skirt back down, pretending she was concerned with wrinkles when she couldn’t even see them. Her eyes refused to focus.
“I should have,” he replied, softly.
“My curiosity would have been appeased and we’d be back at work right about now.” She dodged his gaze by looking at her watch. It was past her time to be back at the store. “Now we’re both late.”
“I should have kissed you the moment we walked in here,” he repeated. “Then we could have had more time to play around.” This time his tone was grim. There wasn’t a shred of humor in his voice.
Her hand arrested his movement as he turned. “Hey, you,” she teased softly. “Lighten up.”
“I am lightened up.”
His frown made lines directly over the bridge of his nose. “Good grief, I’d hate to see you in a mean mood.” She turned and began closing the lids to the containers.

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