Mad About You (12 page)

“Of course not,” she said quickly, not sounding convincing.

“That’s bullshit,” he exclaimed, not caring that other people were staring. He leaned closer to her, getting in her face so there’d be no question of his seriousness. “I protect those I love. I’m going to cherish you, Josephine Belle. I can’t guarantee I won’t be a knucklehead at times, but I’d never purposefully hurt you. Especially physically. I can’t believe you’d even think that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He glared at her, still hurt. “I’m going to tell Nicole on you.”

“Fair enough.” She shook her head, looking as though she’d fallen through a rabbit hole. Then she said, “Is that the time?”

He glanced at the wall clock. It was almost eleven. “Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?”

“Yes. I have an early meeting.”

He signalled the server for the check, making sure it was expedited and to get them out the door quickly.

Outside, she looked at him, wary.

Good—she deserved it. Let her be off-balance, the same way he’d been ever since he laid eyes on her at the fashion show.

Hell, he was done being a nice guy. Forget not pushing—he was going on a full-court press. Before she could say anything, he kissed her the way he’d been imagining for days, like the world was ending.

She gasped. She didn’t put her arms around him, but she didn’t pull away either. He undid her clip and ran his fingers through her tumbled hair. Better. Soft. He fisted it gently and brought her closer. The frustration and hurt of the evening dissipated into warmth and a longing so deep it felt rooted in him.

When he released her, she had a soft look on her face, the flush of pleasure. She’d have that look on her face when they made love.

He couldn’t wait.

He signalled the valet, who instantly had a taxi stopped with the door opened. Josephine licked her lips, her eyes still passion dazed as he escorted her to her ride and waited for her to get inside.

Before he closed the door, she leaned over with a slight frown marring her beautiful face. “I still won’t wear your corset.”

She would—even she knew it. But he just smiled like a hopeful fool as the cab whisked his woman away.

Chapter Seventeen

Julie drove around Laurel Heights, looking for a spot to park the flower truck. Usually she didn’t have trouble, but it made sense that today she would. Today was the day from hell.

Three things had happened: Hyacinth had stopped by the shop
again
; Julie lost her entry form for the competition; and she was late to deliver a large order and had to eat the charge to appease the customer.

Julie yanked the parking brake, growling as she got out of the car.

It’d all worked out. She kicked Hyacinth out, created a new application for the competition, and made her customer happy. But it’d left a bad taste in her mouth.

Especially the missing competition entry packet.

She’d had it all ready to fax that morning, only when she’d gone to do it, the packet was gone.

How could it be gone? Yes, Hyacinth had been snooping again, but she shouldn’t have been able to find it. Although the woman
did
have a pact with the devil. Julie wouldn’t put anything past her.

In the end, she’d gotten her packet faxed to City Hall in time.

She gripped the steering wheel and focused on parking. The spot she found was an inconvenient four blocks from the shop, but right now she’d take what she could get.

When she turned the corner, she saw a person standing in front of her store. She tensed—was Hyacinth back?

But it wasn’t a woman. It was a man.

Scott.

Her steps slowed as her heart sped up. She felt a flash of happiness seeing him, and then she remembered the perfect blonde his mom had shipped in to be his date for the wedding.

He straightened when he saw her. Hands in his pockets, he looked casual, but she could see the tension around his shoulders and jaw. He watched her warily, like he didn’t want to scare her off.

“This is very public,” she pointed as she pulled out her keys.

“I’m here to buy flowers.” He took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door.

“No, you aren’t.”

“No, I’m here to kiss you, but as far as anyone else is concerned, I have a need for daisies.” He motioned her inside. “I may also try to convince you to be my date to my sister’s wedding.”

She sighed and dragged herself inside. “It’s already been a long day, and I don’t have it in me to fight you.”

“Then don’t fight.” He stood in front of her and cupped her face. “Just go with me, Julie. It’ll make both of us happy.”

She wavered, torn, wanting to say yes. The wedding was the day after the competition, so she wouldn’t be on the line for that any longer.

But what if she lost again? She’d had to half-ass her new drawing to get it in on time today—what if the judges didn’t like it? What if Elise found her San Francisco Spirit idea ludicrous? Julie wouldn’t be able to bear being at the wedding, knowing that every time Scott’s mom looked at her she saw a failure.

That thought hurt. She’d never admit it, but lately she’d been imagining Elise was her mother-in-law. Without the trophy, Elise would have no reason to show her off—not the way she could with Zoe.

So she shook her head. “I can’t go with you.”

He sighed. “I think we can work this out to a mutually beneficial end.”

“The only beneficial end for me is to win the flower competition.”

“Maybe it’s not about winning.” He tipped her head up and kissed her.

It was gentle but she still felt it all the way to her toes. She ruthlessly stifled the hum it generated in her belly, stepping back to put distance between the two of them. “I need to win.”

“Okay, you need to win. I understand that.” He crossed his arms. “But do you need to push away the man you’re going to spend the rest of your life with in the process?”

She put her hands on her hips. “That’s kind of arrogant, isn’t it, Prescott?”

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into him. “It’s the truth, Julie, and you know it. Stop playing difficult.”

“I’m being realistic, not difficult.” She looked him in the eye. “I need to prove I can win, on my own merit, not because I’m dating you.”

He dropped his forehead against hers. “I admire your drive to earn this on your own, but don’t shut me out. I miss you, Julie. Don’t tell me you don’t think about me.”

She thought about him all the time. Her mind should have been consumed with the competition but it was full of him and wondering if he was hanging out with the blonde Elise wanted him to date.

But before she could voice any of that, he kissed her.

All thought left her mind.

He caught her ponytail in his hand. “Let’s go to your place tonight. We’ll order dinner in and hang out. No pressure, no public places.”

She hesitated, really wanting to say yes. “I can’t.”

He moved away from her. “I knew you’d say that, but I’d hoped you wouldn’t. Bye, Julie.”

“That’s it?” she blurted, unable to help herself. “You’re just leaving?”

“What can I do?” he asked with sincere curiosity. “You keep pushing me away. I can’t even get you to agree to be my date for my sister’s wedding, and that’s after your competition.”

“Wouldn’t you rather see if I won first?” she said as jokingly as she could. “You wouldn’t want to be seen with a loser.”

“I want to be seen with
you
, Julie. A trophy isn’t going to change how I feel about you.”

But it would change how she felt about herself.

Scott shook his head. “If you change your mind, call me.”

“Or?” she asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

“There is no
or
.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Either you want me or you don’t. It’s easy.”

Only it wasn’t. She watched him stride out of the shop, fighting the panicky feeling that she’d screwed up beyond repair. She almost rushed after him, to drag him back into her arms, but she imagined the prestige she’d gain from winning and told herself it was better this way. Just until after Friday.

Chapter Eighteen

Bull paced in his kitchen, trying not to crush the phone in his hand.

He really wanted to though. He was
this
close to storming downtown to the Asian Art Museum and laying siege on Josephine’s office. He’d been trying to get a hold of her since the night of their date. Was it too much to ask for, to call to say he had a great time?

But he didn’t have her cell number, so he had to call her at work. And the gatekeeper who guarded her wouldn’t let him through. It was probably on Josephine’s orders, but that didn’t improve matters any. He’d been on hold for five minutes.

He hated being on hold.

His doorbell rang, so he walked through his house to answer it. Usually, every time he strolled through his pad, he appreciated it. Sleek modern wasn’t everyone’s thing, but he loved it. It was big and shiny, just like him.

Today, though, it just looked empty and cold, like it was lacking. The thing it was lacking was Josephine’s beautiful presence.

He opened the door to Ethan’s happy face. It made him scowl. He gestured Ethan in as the dragon lady came back on the line.

“I’m sorry. Josephine isn’t available right now. May I take a message?” she said in a pseudo-polite voice that conveyed her annoyance.

Damn it. He rubbed a hand over his head as he followed Ethan back to the kitchen. “When will she be free?”

“Her schedule is completely booked for the rest of the day.”

“So she’s not eating lunch? Or taking a break?”

“Is there a message I can give her or not?” the woman said, her voice losing the veneer of false cheer.

“Yes. Tell her to expect a package in the mail.” He hung up and threw the phone across the room.

“Lady troubles?” Ethan asked, pulling out a stool at the counter.

He nodded. “I need a drink. Wheatgrass?”

Ethan grinned. “I’m not sure I can handle the hard stuff so early in the day.”

“Bite me.” He glared at his best friend as he went through the process of snipping the wheatgrass he grew in the window and juicing it. Pouring it into two shot glasses, he slid it across the counter to Ethan. “It’s a double.”

Ethan chuckled and then downed his shot like it was tequila. “Want to tell me what has you worked up?”

He set his hands on the counter and leaned forward. “Josephine Belle Williams.”

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up. “She sounds like a handful.”

Bull pictured her lush curves and growled in need.

“I guess she is.” Ethan smiled. “She’s making your life difficult, I assume.”

“The woman is damn infuriating.” He began to pace again. “She won’t date me because she thinks I’m crazy.”

Ethan nodded. “Obviously she’s astute.”

“I’m the most sane person we know.”

“Yeah, but look at who we know. MMA fighters aren’t the most stable people in the world. We
choose
to get the shit beaten out of us for a living.”

Bull crossed his arms. “I win my matches.”

“You still get beaten up.”

“Which is why I’ve decided to retire.”

“Retire?” Ethan set his shot glass down and focused on him with all the intensity he used to give his opponents in the octagon. “Since when did you decide to retire?”

“Since last year.” He sighed and pulled out a stool to perch on. “I’m getting old by sports standards.”

“You’re smart. You’re getting out intact, on your own terms.” Ethan had been forced to retire early because of a head injury, but he had come to terms with it once he met Valentine, who showed him there was more to life than wishing for things that would never exist. “What are you going to do instead?”

He liked how Ethan knew him well enough to realize he could sit idle. “I want to take my smoothies national.”

“That’s fantastic.” His buddy clapped him on the shoulder. “Are you opening chain stores or distributing to outlets?”

That was the thing about Ethan: he was a businessman, too. Bull took a deep breath and, on the exhale, got everything off his chest—the frustration of being so close to closing a deal and having it fall through and the uncertainty of finding another backer.

Ethan listened patiently, arms folded, leaning against the counter. At the end of Bull’s venting, he said, “So your frustration over Josephine is compounded with the ambiguity of your business. You know what you need?”

“Besides a few million and good loving from my woman?”

“Yeah, besides that.” Ethan’s lips quirked. “You need to make progress on one front. Either make a contact that could help with capital for your smoothie line or contact Josephine.”

He slumped, pouting. “She won’t take my calls.”

“What package are you sending to her?”

“I bought a corset a year ago from Nicole.”

“You’ve known Josephine that long?”

“No, I just met her, but I was prepping to meet her.”

Shaking his head, Ethan grinned. “You
are
crazy, man. But knowing you, it also makes sense.”

“The corset is her size. I know it. But she thinks it’s insane and won’t try it on.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to convince Cinderella to put it on.”

Bull nodded. “I just have to show her I’m her Prince Charming.”

“That’s going to take a lot of convincing,” Ethan said in a deadpan voice.

He gave his friend a look. “Did I harass you when you were wooing Valentine?”

“Yes.” Ethan grinned. “I’m just returning the favor. Have you talked to Nicole about the guy who invested in her lingerie line? He might not be a good fit, but he’s in that business. He’ll have contacts.”

“That’s brilliant.” Bull perked up. “See? I always told people you were more than a pretty face.”

Shaking his head, his buddy pushed off the counter. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Better still”—Bull stood, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder as they walked out—”I’ll invite you to the launch party for my smoothies and to my wedding, whichever happens first.”

Chapter Nineteen