No Flowers Required (7 page)

Like sleeping with your new building’s handyman after knowing him only one day?

Warmth suffused her cheeks. Yep, not going there. Though “sleeping with” seemed like a painfully inadequate term for what had occurred last night between her and Dillon.

Not that she knew how he felt about their sexcapade. She wasn’t the insecure type to need progress reports from her lovers, but for some reason she’d been tempted to ask him last night beyond her cheeky “was it good for you” bit. Then they’d fought over plastic bags and Value Hardware and she’d flounced off instead of going for round two as any sane woman would have. The arousal in his hot blue eyes had indicated he’d been more than willing to play product tester on another vertical surface, but the mention of the store had killed her libido. Beyond stupid.

Now Value Hardware was even screwing with her sex life—and her sink.

She sprayed more glass cleaner and attacked a new spot. Just as well they’d argued. At least she could now say she’d driven Dillon away and wouldn’t have to concern herself with wondering if he’d want more than a wham, bam, slam against the door.

On the roof. In the rain. With the stars just coming out in the rolling sky, while their wet, hot bodies rubbed against each other—

“Lex?”

Guiltily, she looked up at Travis’s address. “Yes?”

“I asked if you needed anything before I got to work on the site.” He gestured to the broom and dustpan tipped against the counter. “I could sweep up if you’d like.”

He was a sweet kid. Always volunteering to do chores for her. “Thanks, but I have it all under control. I’ll order out for lunch in a bit.”

“I can man the store if you’d like to get some fresh air. Or I can run down to the deli and pick you up whatever you’d like.” His eager smile coaxed out one of her own. “How about the usual? Pastrami on rye? Extra pickle on the side?”

“Such a sweetheart.” She leaned forward and patted Travis’s arm. “But thank you. I’ll just finish up and go later.”

The bell over the door dinged again and that same futile hope reared in her chest. Stupid. She and Dillon had mutually agreed to have a one-night stand—half-hour stand?—and there was no reason to second-guess that decision. If she saw him around her building, fine. She would be cordial. But there would be no more sex. Absolutely none.

She tried not to groan as Nellie and her father entered the shop, beaming. “Afternoon, sweetpea.” Her father came around to wrap her in a hug while Nellie clasped her hands and looked motherly. Not just because of the formidable baby bump, but she also had that anxious expression in her eyes that Alexa’s mother often did. The one she hid behind abundant cheer, as Nellie was right now.

Uh-oh.

“What is it?” Alexa gripped her father’s upper arms and peered over his shoulder at her best friend. “Is it the baby?”

“No, of course not.” Nellie patted her belly as if to reassure herself it hadn’t detached and rolled away. “We’re just here for a visit. We brought lunch,” she added, holding up a brown paper sack.

Double uh-oh, and now that uh-oh was directed
her
way. She recognized the looks on their faces. If they weren’t keyed up over the baby—thank God—someone else had set off their worry button. And that someone clearly was her.

Just great.

“I can take a short break. Hang on.” She went to the back room and aimed a grim smile at Travis, who was kicked back at her desk with her MacBook Air propped on his knees. “Just going to borrow these,” she said, snagging the two spare folding chairs.

He immediately sat up and tried to look serious. “Need help?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Okay. I’ll get back to work then.”

Did he really think she hadn’t noticed the game window he’d minimized as soon as she appeared? But he was a good kid and what he’d done so far on the site looked amazing. She wouldn’t begrudge him a couple minutes chasing birds or whatever he’d been doing. “You do that.”

Once the seating was arranged around the counter and sandwiches were open on everyone’s laps, Alexa decided to go for broke. “Since when are you two hanging out together in the middle of the workday?”

“Since Jake had a meeting and your mom was stuck in court and I needed a ride to the ob-gyn,” Nellie replied, pulling off the crust on her ham salad sandwich.

“A, I’m your best friend, why didn’t you call me? And B, what’s up with your car?”

“In the shop. Broken axle. Besides, you’re working and Pop told me I could ask him for anything.”

Alexa almost choked on her tuna on rye. “Pop?”

Nellie grinned. “Yes, what Jake calls him. He said you refuse to call him anything but Father.”

“Too true,” her father put in, busily inhaling his own turkey and Swiss.

“Not true. I call him Daddy sometimes.”

“Yeah, when you want something. Like when you begged and begged for that Miata for two years in high school.”

“And you gave it to me for graduation.” Alexa smiled fondly at the memory of her first car, a pristine white convertible. It hadn’t had a single dent when she’d sold it four years later after college.

“Your first love,” Nellie agreed.

Alexa’s smile faded. Did they really need to talk about love? She didn’t want to think about anything that had to do with men. Not when she was battling serious second thoughts about cutting-and-running when it came to Dillon. Even if it could get messy with him working in her building. Even if he had purchased a part from Value Hardware, which really wasn’t a crime at all. It was just that she’d still been suffering the sting of Patty’s defection, and he’d waved that smiley-faced bag around…

“I don’t need anything,” she said under her breath, fiddling with her sandwich. “Everything is just hunky-damn-dory.”

Her father took a swig from his soda, then set the bottle aside with a finality that made her nervous. Here it came. The real reason for their impromptu visit. “Sweetpea, there’s nothing wrong with asking for help from people who love you. Who only want the best for you.”

“I don’t need help.” Hadn’t she just said that?

Her father and Nellie exchanged knowing glances. “We disagree.”

“Oh, really.” She glanced back and forth between them, not liking this united front they were presenting against her. Nellie was supposed to be her best friend. On her side in all things. Even those that had yet to be discussed. “Help with what?”

“Well, let’s start with the sign in the window.”

“The sign that’s been there all of two hours?” Alexa rolled her eyes. Suddenly it all made sense. Her caped crusader of a brother had blown his bugle and spread her news all over town. “Jake called you, didn’t he?”

“He might’ve mentioned he stopped by here this morning, yes.” Her father didn’t blink. For a guy who worked in accounting, he had a steely
don’t argue with me
stare. “What happened to your new employee? Didn’t you just hire her?”

Alexa fiddled with the wax paper that held her mostly uneaten sandwich. Her appetite was about as consistent as her emotional landscape lately. “She found a new position at Value Hardware.” Nope, the words didn’t singe her tongue. At all.

“So you need someone to help you,” her father prompted.

“Well, yes, I’m hoping to find someone. Preferably with flower design experience, but I’m willing to train the right person.” What else did she have to do during all the hours she
wasn’t
helping customers? “I’ll even take part-time at this point, assuming they can start within the next couple weeks.”

“Perfect.” Nellie balled up the wax paper that no longer contained her sandwich. Apparently she’d put it away already. “I just resigned from Gamble’s this morning. I’m a free woman.”

Alexa gaped at her best friend. Nellie had worked at Gamble’s for years, and despite getting fed up with the gossip mill, Alexa had thought she liked her job. Plus there was the employee discount, which allowed her to feed her cheesy shirt fetish on the cheap. “You quit the department store? With no notice?”

“I offered to work two more weeks, but Mr. Gamble turned me down.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve been ready to leave for awhile. The politics just got to be too much, and I’m tired of listening to sniping. Besides, you said the magic words. Part-time.” She grinned. “So when would you like me to start?”

Chapter Four

When considering all the ways he could be spending a sunny day, willingly entering the icy domain of Cory Berkeley Santangelo was not one Dillon would’ve picked. Especially considering he was reasonably certain his brother was up to something. He had to be.

But that his brother was in the midst of a knock-down, drag-out fight with a petite blonde sporting chopsticks in her hair mitigated his displeasure.

“Victoria, we have company.” Cory’s jaw was tight enough to dislodge his teeth as he marched around his desk and resumed the seat of command, effectively dismissing his nemesis and the interior designer helping to stage VH’s lifestyle magazine, Vicky Townsend.

That they’d been sniping at each other for most of their lives should’ve lessened some of Dillon’s enjoyment, but he’d only been back in town a few months. He’d missed their combative style of foreplay, though Cory would’ve flipped had he known Dillon saw it as such.

“Dill, it’s so good to see you.” Vicky rushed across the room to hug Dillon. “I heard you were back in town, but you must’ve been hiding out.”

Dillon returned the gesture and grinned at Cory’s glower as he turned to his computer. Keys clacked with the impatience Cory couldn’t have hidden if he wanted to. “Been busy. You know how it is.” He held Vicky at arm’s length and tweaked her chopsticks. “You look hot, Vickster. Making all the boys beg, huh?”

“Except you.” With a wide smile, she slugged him lightly in the stomach and glanced over her shoulder. “And the master of gloom and doom,” she muttered, making Dillon laugh.

“I’ll speak to you later. I have business to discuss with my brother.” Cory’s impervious tone made Vicky and Dillon grin at each other.

“Ooh, I’ll just make myself disappear then, since you have important
business
and all.” Vicky stepped back to gather her large coffee-table books and fat portfolio. She leaned in close to Dillon on her way out. “Help him take the stick out of his ass, would you?”

“Hell no. He’s on his own.”

Vicky’s trill of laughter followed her out. When Dillon turned to Cory, he still hadn’t wiped the grin off his face. Vicky had always been the perfect partner in crime—and the ideal thorn to jab in Cory’s side.

“What did she say about me?” Cory demanded.

“Something about sticks and your ass. Which you’re on your own with, dude.”

Cory scowled and leaned back in his captain’s chair. As usual, he was dressed impeccably. Today he wore a navy suit, crisp white linen shirt, and precisely knotted yellow tie. “To what do I owe this surprise visit?”

“It’s not such a surprise.” Okay, so it was.

“How is the Kelly apartment looking?”

“It’s coming along.” Though his brother hadn’t invited him to sit, Dillon dropped into the chair opposite Cory’s massive oak desk and threw an arm over the back. Cory usually raised a brow whenever he sat like that, as if he anticipated a visit by the formal office police. “I’ll finish installing the new living room flooring by tomorrow. The kitchen floor’s next, after I deal with the AC. It’s not getting cold enough in some of the apartments so there may be a leak.”

“Is that really necessary? The AC work is one thing, but new floors?” Cue the raised eyebrow. “I was in there several weeks ago. The tile didn’t look that bad.”

“It’s a mess,” Dillon said flatly. “If you want to attract decent tenants, you have to do the up-front work to make sure they’ll be happy.”

“That unit is already rented,” Cory reminded him, his tone clipped.

“I realize that. I also realize some of the other units could’ve used that attention to detail
before
rental agreements were signed.”

Cory’s gray eyes turned as cold as sleet. He didn’t appreciate his judgment being questioned, something Dillon had been doing since, oh, birth. “Which ones?”

“Mrs. Fairleigh’s been calling all week saying there’s a leak above her balcony.”

“That leak has been fixed.”

“Apparently not, since she claims it’s still dripping.”

“You’re the one who’s made it clear that you want to limit your participation in the business to manual labor. You’ve had ample opportunities to do otherwise, yet you insist on throwing up drywall and promoting charity balls.” Cory flipped a pen through his fingers, evidence he was still rattled from Vicky’s visit. Score one for the interior designer, since it usually took extreme provocation to throw him off his game. “You know this can’t last forever, this save-the-earth thing you have going. Dad wants to move. Once they do, they’ll be out of the business. It’ll be you and me.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Dillon asked, unable to keep the testiness out of his voice. He knew all of this. He’d known it yesterday on his long bike ride, and he’d known it last night when he’d had the most amazing sex of his life with Alexa. That should’ve never happened, but damn if he could bring himself to regret it.

“Being here’s not all there is to it. I need you to be a full partner with me, Dill.”

It had been a long time since Cory had sounded so…well, sincere. No smirk. No glare. For once, he seemed genuine.

“I know,” Dillon said quietly. “You can count on me.”

Their eyes locked for a moment before Cory nodded. “You’ve been adamant about wanting to handle the bulk of the renos on the buildings, since your name’s on the properties. So if things aren’t up to snuff, isn’t it your job to fix them?”

And just like that, they were back into their roles. Cory as the big businessman, Dillon as the day laborer and secret do-gooder, whom Cory turned to when he needed his spreadsheets to balance correctly.

“There’s also Ms. Conroy’s unit. She had a sink issue yesterday that needed to be fixed, and considering it was her first day in the new apartment, she was understandably unhappy. There are also problems with the drywall in the bathroom, along with some missing grout in the shower stall.”

“I would suggest yet again that you don your Superman cape and get over there and fix it, but that would just be redundant, now wouldn’t it?” Cory waved a hand at the scrolling numbers on his sleek, ginormous flat-screen monitor. “Now if you don’t mind, I have—”

“How much are you charging her?” Dillon interrupted.

“Lex?”

“Ms. Conroy,” Dillon said, surprised by how vehemently he didn’t like his brother referring to her with such familiarity. Especially when that familiarity came with a leering lip curl that didn’t seem kosher for a man threatening to evict her. “How much rent are you charging?”

Cory swiveled to his keyboard and tapped a few buttons. “Nine-fifty.”

Dillon clenched his jaw. “Are you frigging serious? For a studio?” Narrowly he resisted adding the rest on the tip of his tongue:
And you wonder why she’s behind on the rent for her store?

“It’s a competitive rate. Next year when we’ve finished rehabbing the rest of the units and completed remodeling our other buildings, Alexa will realize she’s gotten a deal. Haven is a town poised for huge population growth fueled by Synder Corp.’s expansion. It’s only a matter of time.”

Dillon fought not to roll his eyes. “You sound like you’re running for Common Council.”

“Yeah, well, you sound as if you want to flip out a grass mat and start chanting.” Cory tapped more keys. “The rate’s even been locked in for her protection against inflation. What may seem high now will end up being low as the local economy improves.”

“Mighty big of you.”

Briskly, Cory brushed lint off the arm of his jacket. The master of the universe didn’t like being questioned. “You think I’m a hard-ass?”

“Rhetorical much?”

“I didn’t even have to rent to her, Dill. Most other people wouldn’t have, since she’s a known credit risk with her business. Divine Flowers is her store,” he added when Dillon didn’t reply. “The previous owner, Rosalind Keller, was constantly behind on her rent too, but I realize that’s not Alexa’s doing. Apparently Lex has been trying to dig her way out since Rosalind’s death. I’m sympathetic to her plight, but sympathy can only go so far.”

Again with the
Lex
stuff. “So you’ve met her in person then.”

“She’s been here to plead her case more than once. I invited her to dinner some time ago.” The last bit was said distractedly, as if Cory wasn’t fully aware of what he was saying.

Dillon tightened his fingers into a fist. “How’d that work out for you?”

“She turned me down.” A brief smile crossed Cory’s normally unsmiling mouth. “Quite unapologetically. I think she believed I was behaving unprofessionally.”

Way to go, Lex.

“Weren’t you?” Dillon asked, his irritation diminishing. They hadn’t gone out. Silly to be concerned about something that had obviously occurred way before he’d been back in town.

“All I had in mind was a friendly dinner. What’s with all the questions about Alexa?” He shook his head. “I know what this is about. Dad told you about Taste of Froot.”

“What’s Taste of Froot?” Dillon stretched out his long legs in front of him. “And what does it have to do with Alexa?”

“Taste of Froot is a high-end, specialty line of dessert shops. There are two stores in southern New York and the owner would like to build one in Pennsylvania. Naturally, Haven is on her short list for locations.”

“Naturally.” As the dots connected in Dillon’s head, his temple throbbed. Alexa’s anger suddenly made a lot more sense. And sense was what he needed to talk into his brother before he did something he couldn’t take back. “Wait a second. You want Alexa’s shop for this fro-yo bar?”

“It’s not merely fro-yo.” Cory steepled his fingers together. “And yes, if you must know, Divine Flowers’ current location would be perfect for Taste of Froot. It’s centrally located on Main Street, near the shopping district. Not to mention, Alexa is delinquent. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

Talk about kicking a woman when she was down. Shove Alexa out, stick in a trippy yogurt place. They owned other property. It wasn’t as if the yogurt shop couldn’t slide into another opening. In fact, they owned an empty storefront on the other side of Main, yet another of the projects Dillon had on his slate for the fall. Though that was probably the problem. The empty storefront needed work. Alexa’s store was in move-in condition.

Since the bulk of their ancillary properties were in Dillon’s name as per the agreement he’d made with Cory, he’d willingly agreed to handle rehabbing them. Eventually he would end up managing them as well. In the meantime, Cory was handling things.

Which meant, in effect, if Alexa were evicted, it would be by Dillon, not Cory. For all Dillon knew, Cory had been signing his name to the letters of warning all along.

Man, his brother was a piece of work.

“So you’re courting her?” Dillon asked, tightening his jaw around the question.

“Courting who?”

Interesting. “The chick who owns the dessert places. Oh, wait a second.” A sly grin crossed Dillon’s face. “Do you know her? Like…personally?”

Cory raked a hand through his previously undisturbed dark hair. The nervous tic didn’t suit him, but his glare sure did. “Of course I know her personally, as we’re fostering what I hope will become a mutually profitable business relationship.”

“No, I mean
personally
personally.” Dillon grinned. The subject of women was one they could discuss without too much rancor, assuming Cory stayed away from Alexa. “Is she hot?”

“You’re a complete Neanderthal.”

“That’s a yes. So tell me about her.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Yes, she’s attractive, just as she’s always been. Can we move on?”

“As she’s always been, hmm?” Dillon stretched his arms behind his head, quite liking holding Cory’s feet to the fire. Too bad he didn’t get to do it more often. “So who is she?”

Cory shoved back from his desk, though he didn’t rise. His hair slipped forward, flirting with eyes that had narrowed. “Melinda Townsend.”

Metal Mindy?
“Vicky’s older sister Mindy? No fucking way.”

“
Melinda
,” Cory enunciated. “She doesn’t go by Mindy anymore. She’s an incredibly successful businesswoman and we’d be lucky to land her store in one of our properties.”

“Aw, look at you getting all fidgety. How cute. Is that why you’re cozying up to Vickster? Trying to get in good with the sister?” Though that was a lost cause, as far as Dillon could tell. Vicky and Cory had been like a lit match and polyester for as long as Dill could remember. That Cory had never quite shaken his infatuation with the gorgeous, untouchable Met—Melinda—had never seemed to sit well with Vicky either. Sibling rivalry or something, probably.

Not that he knew anything about that.

“I’m not cozying up with Victoria. How could I? She’s an ice cube.”

A laugh burst out of Dillon. “Vick? Are you kidding me?”

Cory’s features eased. Marginally. “Just so you know, I didn’t contact Victoria. She came after me. Once word spread that we were considering doing a lifestyle magazine to augment the business, she practically begged me to hear her spiel. So far all she’s done is argue with my choices.”

“She’s a very well-respected designer. Nationally acclaimed even.”

Cory’s mouth flattened. “It’s my magazine. She’s completely inflexible. And irritating as hell.”

Dillon leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. This was absolutely priceless. “So, did you ask her out yet?”

“Excuse me?” Cory choked out.

“Melinda,” Dillon said, not getting why Cory seemed to be having trouble breathing. Then he realized his brother hadn’t quite caught on to his topic shift and barked out a laugh. “Jesus, you thought I meant Vicky? Hell no. She’d kill you in a day.”

“Maybe I’d kill her.” Cory turned back to his computer. “It’s not appropriate for me to ask Melinda out,” he added.

“You asked Alexa.”

“You’re obsessed with Lex.” Cory eyed him with speculation. “Are you obsessed with Lex?”

“Alexa,” Dillon corrected, ignoring the question. “But you wanna ask Mindy out. Desperately.”

“I have work to do. Go hammer something.”

Dillon chuckled and rose. He might not have figured out how to stop Cory from trying to evict Alexa or how to improve Alexa’s rent situation, but he’d gained some valuable fodder to use against his brother. One thing at a time.