Saint & Sinner: A Second Chance Romance Page 8

  “Oh for God’s sake, just freaking call him,” she shouted, exasperated. “You were forward about the kiss right, and see what happened? This is just the next step of your journey into his bed.”

  “Why do I always have to be the one stepping out first?” I burst out, whirling around to face her.

  At first, she had been taking the matter very lightly, the way she always handled her own romantic life, but as she noted the pain on my face and voice, she placed her bowl down and straightened her spine.

  “He hasn’t even sent one text?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  The reminder was painful, and his behavior, absolutely puzzling. We’d had a great time that evening so what had made him lose interest afterwards? Was it because I was too forward? Maybe he was some kind of Alpha, hunter type who preferred to make all the moves.

  “Look, maybe he’s just been really busy,” Sandra said. “Didn’t he tell you that he was working on setting up his office here?”

  “No one’s ever too busy to send a text, Sandra. You’ve said that yourself a thousand times.”

  “I know, I know, but maybe he’s not into texting. It’s very annoying and the practice shouldn’t be legal, but unfortunately there are people like that. I usually give them a wide berth, but I will make an exception if they look like Caleb.” She grinned.

  The phone began to ring and she jumped off the table nimbly and went to the counter to answer it.

  “Hello,” I heard her say, and my mind immediately tuned it all out. She didn’t understand. I couldn’t take Caleb lightly. He was not a little romance that I could indulge in and then move on to the next. He was too important to me. He was the man I had dreamed of, waited for all my life. While I continued with my chore, my mind went in never-ending circles as I tried to figure out what I had done wrong, or all the reasons why Caleb had not called, until Sandra rushed over to me. In her haste, she knocked over a pot. I turned around to see soil spill out into the very section I had just cleaned.

  My brows drew together in a frown. “What the hell, Sandra.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up,” she said, waving her arm dismissively. “You’ll never guess who just called.”

  A small flutter started up in my chest. Almost like the flapping of delicate butterfly wings. “Who?”

  “Someone with an order, but a very special order.”

  The butterfly wings grew in span and strength. They were like the wings of a great eagle inside my chest, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. I became afraid I would once again be disappointed. I kept my expression neutral, but my voice sounded choked as I asked the question. “What flowers did they ask for?”

  “Daylilies, but that’s not the important part,” she said, coming to stand in front of me. “What’s important is the person was his lawyer.”

  I almost couldn’t breathe. “Whose lawyer?”

  She crossed her arms across her chest. “You know very well whose. Anyway, she said she absolutely loved the bouquet he purchased the other day from us, and that she would like another. However, this new purchase isn’t for her, but for him because he has just opened his new office, and she would like to congratulate him on it.”

  Her smile was wide and filled with excitement, but I just stared blankly at her. I was horribly disappointed. It was not him at all. It was someone else wanting to buy flowers for him.

  “How is this good news?” I whispered.

  The smile instantly disappeared from her face. “This is good news because I’m going to prepare the bouquet right now and you’re going to deliver it.”

  “I’m not doing that,” I said, shaking my head. No, I can’t run after a man like that. No way. If he wanted me he would have to make the next move now.

  “You’re acting like you have a choice,” she scoffed. “I’ll prepare the bouquet, but I’m not delivering it. It will just rot in here if you don’t take it. You decide what’s going to happen to it, boss.”

  She turned around and walked away, and I tried to calm my racing mind.

  Was this a ploy between him and his lawyer? Was he the one that had told her to order the flowers? What if he wasn’t? Wouldn’t it be strange if I went to deliver the flowers and he didn’t know anything about it? Wouldn’t I be unwelcome? Perhaps he didn’t even want me to know anything about him beyond what he’d revealed on our date.

  I pushed these thoughts out of my mind, and went on with my work. A few minutes later, Sandra called out to me. “I’m done with the arrangement.”

  I ignored her, but when I didn’t hear anything else from her after about fifteen minutes, I went out front and saw the bouquet sitting next to the cash register while she lounged behind the counter, smiling at something on her phone. She hadn’t even put the flowers in the cold room.

  “What are you doing?” I scolded. “Those flowers are going to wilt.”

  She didn’t even bother looking up at me. “I said I wasn’t going to go and I meant it. Anyway, I couldn’t go even if I wanted to. I have a severe headache. I’m sorry, boss, I can’t help you today.”

  She giggled then at something she saw on her phone.

  Defeated, I sighed and went back into the office to pick up my purse.

  I was wearing a pair of shorts and a simple white t-shirt, which although quite casual, I deemed decent enough to go on the errand with. I ran a brush through my hair, reapplied my pale pink lip gloss and slung a satchel purse across my shoulder. Then went back out to the floor. “Where’s the address?” I asked, avoiding her eyes.

  “All the details are on the envelope by the bouquet’s side,” she said, laughter in her voice.

  With a glare at her, I went over to the bouquet filled with daylilies and carnations. It was a beautiful bouquet, but it needed something more to really lift it. I headed over to the table and added some purple statice and green pitta negra.

  After including them, I stood back to judge the completed work.

  “And that is why I do repotting and you are in charge of flower arrangements,” Sandra called quietly from behind the counter. Her voice was no longer fake-strict or mocking.

  I glanced back at her. “Are you sure it doesn’t need anything else?”

  “Nope. It’s absolutely stunning. Perfect, in fact. I think we should take a photo of it and add it to our Collection Album,” she said with a smile.

  19

  Caleb

  There was a brief knock to my door, before it was pushed open. Without looking away from my computer screen I could tell by the hurried, heavy footsteps that it was the new derivatives portfolio manager I’d recently hired, Maxwell Garrett.

  “Here they are,” he said excitedly as he dropped a stack of papers on my desk. “The S&P 500 price return histories for the last five years, as received from Citigroup. I sent the rest of the data from 1926 to your email so it should be in your inbox by now.”

  I gave the stack a glance. That was going to take me all night to get through. “Thanks.”

  “Why do you still insist on me printing these out. It would be so much easier to handle them digitally, would it not?”

  “I’m using both mediums, but physical copies help my focus.” I did not bother to mention how drastically the world had changed while I was locked away. All I had in the prison was one old computer, which I had gotten quite attached to. This dizzying array of new technology was as foreign to me as Chinese or ancient Greek.

  “Okay, I also came to remind you that the second round of interviews for the senior investment officer position will be starting in ten minutes. Would you like me to give you a call when we’re ready so you can make your way over?”

  “No need,” I replied as I flipped to the next page. “I’ll be there.”

  He went out and I buried myself in numbers again. I was good at this. This was the only thing that could take my mind off Willow when I was inside. Knowing these numbers would one day be the passport to giving Willow the life she deserved.

  Ten minu
tes later I got up from my chair and without bothering with my suit jacket, I picked up the files of resumés, and was out of the office. When I arrived at Anne, my secretary’s table, I found her signing for a huge bouquet of flowers. She looked up at me with a vague smile.

  “This came for you. It’s from Marie Spencer,” she said, but my gaze and senses were completely riveted by the woman standing next to her who was refusing to look at me. My heart lurched.

  “I should go,” she said to no one in particular, and turned away.

  “Willow,” I called sharply.

  She stopped, and turned around to face me. “Hello,” she greeted, stiffly.

  The air in the room seemed to freeze over, as for a few seconds afterwards neither of us said a word. Even Anne.

  “May I see you for a few minutes?” I asked.

  “Uh … actually, I’m in a rush to make another delivery so maybe …”

  “It’ll just be a few minutes,” I insisted. I had been behind bars for so long I had not learned there were rules in the dating game. You called a girl back when you were interested. I should have called her. How would she know that in my head she was already mine and everything I was doing was to remove any obstacles standing between us and hasten our coming together? I had fucked up.

  “Um …” Willow looked uncertainly between the speculative expression on Anne’s face and mine.

  “Anne, please let Garrett know I’ll be a few minutes late. This way, Willow,” I said decisively and turning around started to return to my office, listening intently for the sound of footsteps following me. I walked through the door and held it open for her. When she passed through, I shut the door, walked over to my desk and deposited the resumés I was still holding in my hand. Then I leaned a hip against the desk and faced her.

  Her beautiful face was expressionless, but I knew she was hurt. I kicked myself for being so insensitive, so stupid. I didn’t beat around the bush. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “For not contacting you. Things have been hectic—”

  “There’s no need for that,” she interrupted. “It was just a date, not a marriage proposal or anything. It meant nothing. You’re not obligated to contact me.”

  It was only hurt talking. I had disappointed her and I richly deserved the cold treatment. I stared at her steadily until her gaze faltered and she looked away. I threw all caution to the wind and went towards her. Startled at my sudden approach, she retreated until her back hit the door.

  “What are you doing?” she called out hoarsely.

  I halted, just two steps away from her and forced myself to take a deep breath. “I’m really sorry, Willow.” I apologized, hoping that she could see how much I meant it. “I’ve been swamped with work. All my focus has been on opening up this office.”

  My explanation was a partial truth, but it would have to do … for the moment. Ever since I became aware of being under surveillance, I knew it was better to stay away from her until I got these men off my back. And the only way to make that happen was for me to deliver a viable financial product to them. I’d been knee deep in the research that would confirm if I could actually create what they were asking of me. Once I had that information, I could negotiate harder. I would have the power to demand they stay the fuck away from Willow and me while I created their financial instrument. To that end I had abandoned all else and worked day and night to handle that.

  “Alright,” she murmured. “I understand.”

  I took another step towards her and this time she didn't retreat. There was nowhere for her to go anyway with her back pressed defensively against the door.

  With a tight smile at me, she turned around and pulled the door open, but I was faster. My hand reached above her head and snapped the door shut again.

  She stilled, and so did I. I could see her hand tighten so hard around the handle, her knuckles showed white. Her gaze locked onto mine.

  “I have to leave,” she announced, breathlessly.

  Without taking my gaze off hers, I slid my left arm around her waist, she laid both her palms against my chest and pushed me away. The strength in her arms was puny, futile, useless. I pressed her body hard against mine and she melted into me. There was no more struggle.

  “I … I … really have to leave,” she repeated, her voice thick and hesitant.

  I leaned down and buried my face in her neck, deeply inhaling her scent: flowers. Always. Even before she had the flower shop. She always smelled of flowers. Intoxicating, wild flowers she would pick from the fields. I wanted to cry with the memory. Us, lying in a field. It was summer. She was tickling my nose with a flower.

  “Caleb,” she breathed. It was a protest. I knew that, but I couldn’t stop myself. The heat that rolled off her body melded with mine and it was as though I was once again, in the past. I was back in a big open farmer’s field. The sun was shining on my face. The baked ground underneath me was hot. There was the sound of a bee buzzing. Willow was laughing. Her golden hair was like the halo of an angel. I was content. I was king of the whole world then.

  “Caleb,” she called again, and I was back in my office.

  I parted my lips and placed a gentle, sensual kiss on the skin just beneath a wildly beating pulse in her throat. Her breath came out in a rush. I felt something inside me weaken and break. How long could I hold myself back? I closed my eyes and savored the heady rush of her taste, before I pulled back, and behaved like a civilized man again.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. It took everything I had to pull away and take a step back. I couldn’t rush this. She needed time. Time to fall for me all over again.

  She stared straight into my eyes. “Why didn't you call me?”

  “I was too occupied,” I said lamely. I prayed she would believe me despite how unimpressive the excuse sounded. “I have a project that I need to figure out immediately, so for the last two days I have focused on it completely.”

  “You could have sent me a text.”

  That would have been the most convenient option, but it hadn't even occurred to me to do that. I’d been out of the world for too long. “I will,” I replied sincerely. “From now on, I’ll send you messages every chance I get.”

  She smiled suddenly and it warmed my heart. I had been forgiven. That was her all over. No matter how bad someone was to her, she was quick to forgive. All they had to do was say sorry. And her bastard uncle knew that.

  “Okay,” she said and turned around once again to pull the door open.

  I knocked it back shut and a frown appeared on her smooth forehead. I only had one question for her. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

  The scowl fled and she smiled at the reminder of her exact question to me two nights ago. “Are you mocking me?”

  “No, but I’m wondering how you thought you could leave without kissing me.”

  She flattened her hand on my chest, right over my heart. I was certain she could feel the erratic thumping. Then she lifted herself onto her toes and inched closer to me. Our lips touched.

  Her kiss was warm and sweet, and I completely lost myself.

  She groaned softly into my mouth as I tightened my hold around her waist and pressed her into my hardness.

  I kissed her passionately, sucking desperately on her tongue, and drinking in as much of her essence as I could. She tasted like heaven and I could have gone on forever, a knock on the door startled her and she gasped and pulled away.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “Mr. Wolfe,” Maxwell’s voice came through the door. “We’re waiting for you.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I said, never taking my eyes off her. I waited until the footsteps went away before I took a step back. The loss of contact brought a chill to me.

  “I’ll send you a message,” I promised.

  She nodded, ran her fingers through her hair, and quickly exited my office.

  Outside, Anne and Maxwell were waiting, no doubt curious as to what business I could have with the flower delivery girl. She didn’t look any o
f them in the eye. I watched her almost sprint through the door, and hurry towards the elevator. Only when she disappeared from sight did I return my gaze to the two employees standing before me.

  Anne seemed to be fighting back a knowing smile, but saying nothing she turned around and returned to her desk.

  Maxwell coughed delicately and I focused on him.

  “The file of resumés,” he said. “I gave them to you earlier.”

  “Oh yeah,” I replied, dragging my attention away from Willow. “It’s in my office. I’ll go grab it. You go on ahead.”

  “See you in the conference room,” he replied and went in the opposite direction Willow had gone.

  20

  Willow

  I received his text just as I got to the first intersection on my journey back to the shop. As I waited at the red light, my heart thudding in my chest, I tried my best to restrain myself from checking it, but I could only wait until I stopped at the next red light. I grabbed my phone and the moment the home screen lit up, I saw the golden words.

  Hello Caleb here.

  I put the phone down and grinned to myself. Who sends a text like that? But the sensation of joy that flooded my chest couldn’t be denied. He made contact. He said he would and he did. I was dying to reply, but I had to wait until I got back to the shop. By that time another message had pinged its way into my phone.

  The moment I cut the engine, I unlocked it and read the next message he’d sent.

  Sorry for not keeping in touch. I do want to get to know you better, but I have to work late tonight at the office for the next few days. Any ideas?”

  I wanted to wait a bit more, to settle my heart before I replied.

  “A message like this one will do.”

  His response came lightning fast.

  You got it.

  I tried my best to control the smile that was stretching my lips into what must be the biggest, goofiest grin, but the muscles of my face refused to cooperate. I slipped the phone into my pocket, and stepped out of the car onto clouds. I couldn’t feel the ground anymore. I was on such a high that it felt like I didn't even need to breath.