In other words, give him hours of advantage time over her to prepare.

  “No, but that would have been a great idea. A nice time out with a handsome man like that would help get you out of your funk. Honestly, you two confuse the hell out of me on a good day. Maybe you guys were really meant for each other after all if you can just set aside egos long enough. And don’t you think it’s good to know when a guy’s single? I do. You never know when a piece of information comes in handy.”

  Her inner journalist could appreciate that fact in other scenarios. Not when it came to her dating life and conversation topics with her mom.

  “Mom, where are you getting all this?” she hissed. “I’ve been in town hours and you are already seeing wedding bells!”

  She pitched her voice low, “Seriously, can have the when are you getting married talk later? Umm…a customer just walked in. You guys be safe and enjoy the city.”

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  Genevieve startled at the husky sound of Whiskey’s voice as she ended the call with her mom. She turned in place as Whiskey came to a stop on the other side of the mounds of ribbon and bouquet wrapping paper that took up most of the counter space opposite her computer, trying to control her racing heart.

  “A wedding this time of year. Must be nice. Who’s tying the know? Anyone I know?”

  Her eyes swept over the hard set of his shoulders and gorgeous hazel eyes. It wasn’t her imagination he had a hungry spark behind jet black lashes this morning, but now a serious dullness had come over him despite his cheerful words.

  She plucked at the fringes of loose ribbon. “Fancy seeing you again, Mr. Morgan. Did you stop by to get a special date some flowers?”

  A deep, half-cocked grin beat back some of the gloom he carried. He braced his hand on the counter and leaned close. “Maybe. I’ll have to ask what her favorite flower is. Any recommendations for a first date?”

  “First date, huh?” He was really going all out on playing their little game.

  She swallowed a pool of drool. Those perfectly full lips and that deep, rich and somehow rough voice of his still had the power to make her wet between the legs and her mouth water.

  Frustration chased a wave of lust through her body.

  He’d lost the suit jacket and his white shirt clung to every muscle and though it had been years since she’d been in the same room with him, she wanted to climb the man like a tree and feel every groove and valley.

  She loved his playful banter and was glad to see the sullen expression on his face fade. But she noted the lines around his eyes. Age touched everybody, but on him, it just looked good. They gave him a Hollywood air about him as if he belonged on the red carpet. She pictured him on a movie set as the suave and dashing hero of a romantic comedy—no, make that an action adventure with those insanely defined abs she could see behind his shirt. No heroine would be left unaffected. She knew for a fact his arms were heroine approved.

  She cut off her runaway thoughts as her gaze traveled up the strip of navy blue that was his tie and landed on his face. Yep. The spark of hunger was back only this time his piercing eyes lassoed her close and refused to let her go.

  “Remember the last time we were here alone?” His deep voice slid over her and reached for a place he hadn’t touched in longer than she cared to remember.

  From behind the counter, she raked her eyes over his lips, his breathy words brushing over her lightly from how close he leaned in. “Whiskey,” she groaned.

  Groaned? What the hell was she? Eighteen again with rampant hormones?

  “You had the prettiest little summer dress on, no panties and cock-teased me all day.”

  “Yes, well, that was a helluva long time ago.”

  She tried for nonchalance but knew she failed.

  A low rumbling chuckle had her nipples puckering against her worn and faded Bon Jovi T-shirt and she felt the second his eyes raked over them. He leaned forward, his arms braced wide until his lips caressed against her ear. “And I made you come over a bed of gardenias. You smelled like a flower, and tasted like pure, sweet sin.”

  She inhaled sharply. Arrogant bastard.

  But her traitorous nipples didn’t seem to think so. In fact, they liked the way his voice teased them into hard peaks and don’t get her started on what her dripping vagina wanted. If words could do this to her what would happen when he touched her again?

  She pulled back, narrowing her eyes and his eyes dipped south landing on her ample chest.

  She cleared her throat and busied her hands with the mess on the counter. “You know, I remember when you sat across from me in Mr. Miller’s history class and used to throw spit wads at me during exams. In the fifth grade. Or was it the sixth?” That had been ground zero to their relationship.

  He grinned, rubbing a hand around the back of his neck looking slightly abashed. “About that, I didn’t think that would come up until at least dessert. Does a sorry count, even if a little late?”

  “I don’t know. Scarred me for life, you know.” Enjoying teasing him a bit longer, she set a hip against the counter and winked at him.

  He scoffed. “Scarred? Hardly. I’m the one that got all my books and best suede shoes soaked with your bucket of water prank.”

  “You can thank my brothers for that little trick. But you have to admit, it was well earned if you recall.”

  “My mother was livid over the shoes for a month and I had to work with the kitchen staff to help earn back their worth.”

  “Hard times for young Morgan, I’m sure. Cupcake?” She pointed to the glass case behind her as much to distract him as it was to have her hands busy instead of itching to feel that decadent body again.

  It was damn sexy seeing a strong, confident man amused by their shared childhood memories. No doubt he’d forgotten about her buck teeth but the hunger in his eyes told her he hadn’t forgotten the taste of her on his lips.

  “I could use something a little sweet,” he murmured.

  He peered over her shoulder and considered the large assortment of pastries her mom always kept topped off with fresh something or other for her customers.

  “Would love something. Surprise me, sweetheart. Or maybe, yeah. Give me that cherry popper. Second-row middle. I’ve had a change of mind.”

  With her back turned, she smiled grabbing the sweet dessert. “Interesting choice.”

  He moved around the counter and now stood so close she could feel the heat rolling off his massive body.

  And then he was touching her.

  “Oh,” she gasped softly, sounding surprised when his arm came around her and he rested his hand over her midriff. An electric shock pulsated through her and he sensed it too. His grip tightened and the hard press of his shaft against her ass threw her right back here five years ago when he’d bent her over a table full of flowers and claimed her virginity. Then made her mind explode with multiple orgasms.

  He pressed his lips to her neck. “The last time I had one of these it was spread out over your entire body.”

  She sighed long and hard. “I remember. You couldn’t get enough of my cherry flavored nipples. She turned in his arms. “Wait. You mean you’ve been in town for how long now and haven’t bought a single one? I don’t believe you,” she teased.

  “It’s a fact. Nothing has compared since my last one, so why bother.” There was no hesitance in his words.

  She relaxed into his hold, smiling. “And now? Still as sweet as you remember?”

  Staring into her eyes, he peeled back the wrapper and took a bite, the cherry cream spilling out to coat his lips.

  “I fear I was right. Downright disappointing.” And he sounded it too. He worked his mouth and swallowed the bite of pastry.

  Before she could stop herself, she brushed aside his hand holding the treat, rose to her toes, and licked off the sweet, red juices with a throaty groan. What was wrong with her? This was her chance to give him a piece of her mind, not a taste of her lips.

  She went back for a couple of drops she missed. “Does that make it better?”

  Delicately she rested her palms on his broad chest, peering up at him.

  He tossed the food on the counter and had her in his arms, his lips against hers as an answer. Pushed up against the counter behind her and him taking up all the space in front of her, she was trapped. He parted her lips with his tongue and she followed, falling into the taste of him all over again as though no time had passed between kisses.

  He ran his hand up the curve of her thigh, over the dip of her waist and under her shirt. One flick and he released the snaps of her bra and fell to his knees.

  From that position, he kissed his way up her stomach and slowly peeled back her T-shirt until he had a hard, peaked tip of her breast pulled between his hot lips.

  “Whiskey,” she groaned, pulling him closer by burying her hands into his hair.

  It felt like her pounding heart was going to explode.

  He swirled his tongue over one peak and then moved to the next, pushing her bra to the side. For once she wished she had opted to wear a skirt instead of her damn shorts.

  He pushed to his feet hauling her up against his body. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart. Feel what you do to me.”

  She does as he commanded and instantly felt the hard, hot length of his cock pressed into the seam of her thighs. She throws her head back, his strong hands holding her safely, and groans.

  “Whiskey we can’t do this,” she panted, secretly hoping he did it anyway. Just like old times.

  She broke their kiss, panting. Brakes. Someone needed to hit the brakes. Sex was good, sex in the middle of her parent flower shop when anyone could walk in wasn’t so good. “Did you come here to kiss me out of my panties or did you seriously need flowers? You know, that’s not necessary. The flowers part.” She laughed softly. “The kissing, that was totally needed.”

  His smile flatlined.

  What? What did she say?

  His expressions shifted from aroused to what looked like pissed. He turned and pinned her against the back wall out of sight from the front door. “I’d rather get back to the kissing if you don’t mind? We can talk about everything else later.” He rocked his hips causing his cock to rub against her unfortunately clothed pussy. He found the edge of her shorts, pulled the material to the side and eased in a finger.

  She shivered when his finger stroked over her wet, pouty lips and dipped in to find her throbbing clit. “Whiskey, God, yes!” She wrapped tighter around him until her tender nipples brushed against his hard chest just as he slipped a finger into her drenched channel and then a second, pushing and pulling until he hooked them over her g-spot.

  Like he knew her body, he worked her slow at first with a masterful touch, easing her into the orgasm she knew he was after. She shivered when he pulled aside the fabric more and finger fucked her faster, harder.

  Her head fell back against the wall and her legs tightened around him. “Whiskey, don’t stop.”

  “No, baby, but give me what I want.”

  She rocked her hips, fucking his fingers like she was riding his cock. Her juices spilled over his hand and wet them both, making a mess as her climax shattered through her.

  “Give me everything, baby,” he growled stroking her clit with his thumb. “You’ve got more for me and I want it.” He didn’t stop, didn’t let up so she could catch her breath. Several more thrusts of his fingers and her velvety walls clamped around his fingers and he shoved her into another orgasm on the cusp of her last.

  “Please, fuck me,” she begged, anchoring herself to him. She wanted nothing more than to throw him on the floor right now, strip off his clothes and fuck him like a wild child of the flowers.

  “Now, Whiskey, or so help me⁠—”

  His chest vibrated with the rough, deep chuckle. “I want to, sweetheart. God, I want to rip off those pretty little shorts and sink my cock into your tight hole, but you might not like that as much as you think in a few minutes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He drew his fingers out and brought them to his mouth. Holding her gaze, he licked them clean and gave a deep, throat masculine groan. “Now that’s the dessert I really crave.”

  Fuck that was sexy as hell.

  “So not flowers, huh?” Her voice sounded hoarse. She cleared her throat, wrapping her arms around his neck before trying again. “Flowers, you didn’t come here for flowers, did you? And why wouldn’t I want you to throw me on a bed of flowers and make me cum?”

  Leaning them against the wall, he stroked a thumb across her cheek and his features turned from lover to cold businessman faster than she could blink. “I’d buy the whole god damn store and use them all as a bed for you, sweetheart, if it would make what I have to do just go the fuck away.”

  Her brows pinched. That didn’t sound good. Every time she’d heard a line like that someone was lined up for a bad day. In this case, that someone sounded like it would be her.

  He held her tight as she got her feet back under her.

  “What’s this about, Whiskey?”

  He gathered her hand and walked around the counter to stand in front of her. Every ounce of this interaction was the boardroom version of Whiskey. Cold and calculating.

  She’d come across a few of those types when writing business pieces covering the financial landscape of larger cities.

  Genevieve sighed. This day had such great potential.

  “Well?” she asked with a notch of impatience, straightening her bra with a little more vigor than intended.

  His expression grew heavy and she could tell he still had half a mind to do as he mentioned and take her on a pile of flowers. Or, it seemed that way to her with how he kept a hand wrapped around her neck, his thumb stroking small circles, as though he couldn’t stop touching her. The bulge in his pants backed up her theory.

  With his other hand, he produced an envelope from an unseen pocket inside his suit jacket.

  “What’s this?” she asked cautiously, peeling back the flap.

  It took reading over the letter three times before the words sank in and with each pass her heart grew heavier until her chest hurt.

  “What kind of game is this, Whiskey? An eviction notice?” The handful of blissful hours she’d been back in Pinegrove wilted. Over three decades of her family’s life were summed up in a couple of typed paragraphs and a date.

  “Whiskey, answer me dammit. What is all this about?” Her heart sank lower with every second he didn’t speak. Instead of opening his mouth, he stood there, one hand shoved into his pocket, and the other still on her neck. She batted it away while he tried to play a staring contest.

  “I wish like hell I didn’t have to do this, Genevieve. There’s just no other way. It’s out of my hands.” His gaze came back to hers. That perfect cleft in his chin dipped with each word and her hand itched to smack it off him.

  She swiped the pastry from where he’d left it on the countertop. Dream snatchers didn’t get cherry poppers, or her.

  “That’s not a good enough answer.” People made the mistake of thinking her small-town laid-back vibes couldn’t morph into big city knuckle cracking, but that was their mistake. New York ate you up for breakfast if you stayed small potatoes for long. A few hard lessons taught her that.

  “My company will be demolishing this crumbling building in two weeks’ time. I’m sorry you, nor your parents received a notice sooner. When it was brought to my attention, I took on the responsibility myself. Some things are just unavoidable.”

  He had the audacity to look stricken. Like this pained him.

  Arrogant bastard.

  “Unavoidable? Really?” She spat the word out, sickened by its taste, and her belly grew hot. Her gaze remained fixed on his, intense and direct.

  He gave a curt nod while the same grim expression from earlier played out in full force.

  Good. He didn’t deserve to smile if she couldn’t either. And he didn’t look any happier than she felt. At least that was something to his credit.

  “To be perfectly honest,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked her square in the eye. “I didn’t think you would be here when I delivered the news. When I saw you in the parking lot I debated coming back at another time. Then the dog, coffee and you happened all at once and well⁠—”

  “And well, you can’t put the flower back on the stem once you cut it off.” Her mom’s saying came back to her with the realization of how true the words rang.

  His brow arched and she waved him off.

  “Never mind. So, let me get this straight. Are you giving my parents two weeks to find another place? To move three decades’ worth of roots? Do you have any idea what that will do to them?” She couldn’t believe the words though they came from her mouth like lead bricks.

  He gave that irritating curt nod again, but she also caught a slight pain in his eyes. “Yes, Genevieve. Actually, I do. I’m sorry. Truly. I wish there was another way. I hate seeing you like this. Hate doing this to your family more.”

  “Then don’t,” she countered.

  His cell rang from the pocket of his suit jacket. With the way his eyes crinkled along the edges, he didn’t look forward to talking to whoever awaited him on the other end.

  Good. Karma had his number.

  “I have to go, Genevieve, but we can talk about it more tonight. I promise. I’m not done with you and I know you’re itching to take a big chunk out of my ass and I’m going to let you. But dinner first.” He reached for her hand and part of her wanted to slap him away. Maybe in some alternate universe, she would have done exactly that. But here, in her reality, she didn’t have the heart when he sounded so sincere. He moved in close reclaiming the few feet she’d put between them and tipped her chin up.

  “Please say you’ll still have dinner with me. There’s so much more to tell you. I can show you the plans I have and maybe you can offer some input.”

  She tipped her chin until their gazes locked. “Dinner isn’t some white flag and Blossom deserves better, Whiskey. There has to be some other way. How would it look if I go to dinner with you?”