Нора Робертс - Bed of Roses

and business partners. Del’s our lawyer, and Jack helps out when we need him. Plus he’s designing the remodeling. We have all these connections, and they’re all tangled up.”

“And nothing tangles up the tangles like sex,” Mac put in.

“Exactly. What if we end up having this thing, then the thing goes south. Then we’re awkward with each other, and that makes the rest of us awkward with the rest of us. We have a kind of balance, don’t we? Sex isn’t worth upsetting the balance.”

“You wouldn’t be doing it right then,” Mrs. Grady commented, and shook her head. “Youth thinks too damn much. I’m going to start the wash.”

Emma sulked over her pancakes. “She thinks I’m being an idiot, but I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Then set the ground rules going in. What you each expect from each other, and how you’ll handle any complications.”

“What kind of ground rules?”

Parker shrugged. “That’s for you to decide, Em.”

At her worktable with a soothing new age mix in the background, Emma processed a delivery. For the midweek, off-site bridal shower, she’d opted for fun and female. The gerbera daisies were just the ticket.

Visualizing the finished arrangement, she cut the lower inch of the stems under water. Fresh and pretty, she thought as she transferred the daisies to her solution of water, flower food, and preservatives.

She carried the first batch to the cooler for rehydrating. As she started on the next batch, she heard Parker call out to her.

“Back here!”

Parker came in, took a look at the flowers, foliage, buckets, tools. “McNickey bridal shower?”

“Yes. Just look at the color of these gerberas. From soft to vibrant. They’re going to be perfect.”

“What are you doing with them?”

“For the centerpiece, a trio of topiaries in pots I’m covering with lemon leaf. I’ll work in some waxflower and acacia, add some sheer ribbon. The client wants a couple others, a more elaborate arrangement for her entry table, another with candles to put in her fireplace, and something delicate, fragrant, and pretty for the powder room. I need to get them all processed before my eleven o’clock consult. It’s moving along.”

“Festive and female.” Parker scanned the work space. “I know you’ve got a pretty full slate. Can you squeeze another off-site event in?”

“When?”

“Next Thursday. I know,” she said as Emma slid over a cool stare. “The potential client called the main number, and since I knew you were elbow deep in a delivery I didn’t transfer it. She was at the Folk-Harrigan wedding. Tells me she just couldn’t get over the flowers—which is another score for us over MBB.”

“You’re using that to seduce me.”

“Yes, I am. She’d planned to just go buy some cut flowers and do some vases, but now that she’s seen your work, she’s obsessed. She can’t get over how beautiful they were.”

“Stop it.”

“How gorgeous and creative and perfect.”

“Damn you, Parker.”

“She can’t sleep or eat or function in any normal fashion now that she’s seen what can be done with flowers.”

“I hate you. What kind of event, and how much is she after?”

Parker’s smile managed to be both smug and sympathetic. Emma considered it a major skill.

“A baby shower, and it sounds similar to what you’re doing here. Except for the fireplace arrangement. Very girly—the baby’s a girl—so she’s looking for a lot of pink. But told me she’d trust your judgment.”

“It’s cutting it close. I have to see what my wholesaler can do. And I’d have to take a look at next week.”

“I already did. Your Monday’s solid, but you have a block Tuesday afternoon. You start designing Wednesday for Friday’s event, Thursday for Saturday’s. You’ve got Tink coming in to help those two days, so is it realistic the two of you could add this in? It’s her daughter-in-law,” Parker added. “And her first grandchild.”

Emma sighed. “You knew that would do it.”

“Yes, I did.” She patted Emma’s shoulder, unrepentant. “If you need it, you can call in Tiffany or Beach.”

“Tink and I can handle it.” Emma carried the next batch to the cooler, then came back to finish. “I’ll call the client as soon as I’m done here, make sure we understand what she’s after. Then I’ll make sure I can get it.”

“I put her name and number on your desk.”

“Of course you did. It’s going to cost you.”

“What’s your price?”

“The garage called. My car’s finished, but I can’t get in to pick it up today. And tomorrow’s nearly as full.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Knew you would.” Looking at what crowded her plate, Emma rubbed the back of her neck. “The hour you save me can go toward the expectant grandma.”

“I’ll get back to her, take her off her tenterhooks, and let her know you’ll be in touch. And speaking of touch, have you talked to Jack?”

“No. I’m in the mulling and musing stage. If I talked to him I’d start thinking how much I’d like to jump him or be jumped by him. Which, of course, since I brought it up, I’m thinking about right now.”

“Should I give you a moment of privacy?”

“Very funny. I told him we needed to stop and think, so I’m stopping and thinking.” Her brow creased and she made her voice prim. “Sex isn’t everything.”

“Since you have more of it—and offers for more of it—than I do, I’ll bow to your superior knowledge.”

“That’s because I’m not intimidating.” She flicked Parker a glance. “I didn’t mean that as an insult.”

“I don’t mind being intimidating. It saves time. Which,” she added with a look at her watch, “I have to consider now. I’m meeting a bride in town. Mac’s got a delivery to make. I’ll run and catch her before she goes, have her drop me off at the garage. I should be back by four. Don’t forget we have an evening consult tonight. Six thirty.”

“I’ve got it on my appointment book.”

“I’ll see you then. Thanks, Emma. Really,” Parker added as she hurried out again.

Alone, Emma cleaned off her work area before reaching for the Neosporin she used like other women used hand cream. With her latest nicks and scratches tended, she set up for her consult.

Satisfied with the selection of arrangements, photo albums, and magazines, she called the number Parker had left her—and made a grandmother-to-be very happy. As they spoke she took notes, made calculations on the number of baby roses, mini calla lilies. Pink for the roses, white for the callas. More calculations as she designed the larger arrangement in her head. Eggplant callas, Bianca roses, pink spray roses.

Sweet, female, but with elegant touches—if she read the client correctly. She added to her notes, jotted down the time and place for delivery, and promised the client an e-mail contract and itemization by midafternoon.

Gauging the time, she put in a hurried call to her wholesaler, then popped up to peel off her work clothes and suit up.

While she freshened her makeup, she wondered if Jack was musing and mulling.

On impulse, she dashed to her computer to send him an e-mail.

I’m still thinking. Are you?

She hit Send before she could change her mind.

In his office, Jack checked the changes his associate had done. The new construction project continued to be tweaked as the clients waffled. They wanted stately, he thought, and they’d gotten it. They’d also wanted six fireplaces. Until they’d decided they needed nine. And an elevator.

The latest change involved enclosing the projected swimming pool for year-round use and attaching it to the house via a breezeway.

Nice job, Chip, he thought even as he made a couple of small changes. He studied the result, then the drawings submitted by the structural engineer.

Good, he decided. Very, very good. The dignity of Georgian Colonial wasn’t compromised. And the client could do laps in January.

Everybody’s happy.

He started to send an e-mail clearing the drawings for submission to the client, and noticed the mail from Emma.

He clicked it open, read the single line.

Was she kidding?

Every thought that didn’t revolve around her—particularly a naked her—was a struggle. Everything he’d done that morning had taken twice as long as it should have because he was thinking.

No point in telling her that, he decided. So just how did he answer? He angled his head, and smiled as he hit Reply.

I’m thinking you should come over tonight wearing nothing but a trench coat and elbow pads.

After he clicked Send, he sat back and imagined—very well—what Emma might look like in a trench coat. And maybe really high heels, he thought. Red ones. And once he’d loosened the belt of the coat, he’d—

“Got the go to come on back.”

With his mind still opening a trench coat—short, black—Jack stared at Del.

“So hey, where the hell are you?”

“Ah . . . just work. Drawings.” Shit. Casually, he hoped, he brought up his screen saver. “No work for you?”

“I’m on my way to the courthouse, and you have better coffee.”

Del strolled over to the setup on the counter, and helped himself. “Ready to lose?”

“Lose what?”

“It’s Poker Night, pal, and I’m feeling lucky.”

“Poker Night.”

Eyebrows lifting, Del studied him. “What the hell are you working on? You look like you’ve just shifted dimensions.”

“It just shows my uncanny ability to focus on the job at hand. Which I’ll be doing with poker tonight. You’ll have to do a lot more than feel lucky to win.”

“Side bet. A hundred.”