Lois Richer - Spring Flowers, Summer Love

He studied her for several tense moments, then rose.

“Wait here for a minute.” Connor left the room. When he returned he held out a Toronto newspaper. “I’m planning a spread like this for the grand reopening. I’ve already blocked out coverage and a reporter for the end of May,” he told her. “They’re sending someone who’ll take a ton of pictures, do a write-up and feature the place in their weekend edition. I had to sign a contract. There’s no way I can cancel without losing a lot of money. If we’re late—”

Rowena took the paper, glanced at it, then set it down. She drew a deep breath. “We’re not going to be late, Connor. We’re moving along as planned. We’ll be in fine shape by the end of May.” I hope.

“You’re sure?” Connor’s hard look pierced through her bravado, searching for some indecision.

Rowena refused to show any doubt. “I always make my deadlines,” she told him softly.

He heaved a sigh. “You’d better.”

“So we have our goal, we have our plan. Now we just need time and no more nasty comments to pull it off.” She glanced at Connor. “We’ve got enough pressure. I don’t need you adding to it by constantly reminding us of what has yet to be done. I warn you, when I’m on a deadline I can be very intense. If you don’t stop pushing, things are going to get heated between us.”

“I’ll survive.” His dry humor echoed the sloped grin he wore. “Feel free to tell me whenever I’m becoming obsessive.”

“I will,” Rowena promised. She paused in the doorway, saw that Quint and Kent had left. The kitchen sparkled. “Looks like those two know their way around a kitchen.”

“Yeah.” But Connor was watching her.

Rowena shifted uncomfortably under that scrutiny, grabbed her ringing cell phone like a lifeline. “Rowena Davis.”

“Hey, Row. This is Ash. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Just finished dinner.”

“Not at home, because I stopped by ten minutes ago. Where are you?”

“I’m at Wingate. Connor treated Kent and Quint and me to a steak dinner. It was delicious,” she added, lifting one eyebrow as she glanced at him.

He bowed from the waist like a well-trained maître d’.

“Oh, good. If he’s there with you, you’ve just saved me a phone call.”

“Really?” A wiggle of dread tugged at Rowena. She didn’t need Ashley to start matchmaking. “How can I help?”

“Michael and I are making dinner for Piper and Jason tomorrow night. We want you to come. It would be nice if you could bring Connor with you. We’d like to get to know him better.”

Rowena stalled, trying to think of a way out.

“Unless of course there’s a reason you don’t want him to come?” Ashley’s voice took on that hint of suspicion that Rowena knew better than to ignore.

“Don’t be silly, Ash. If you’ll hold on a moment, I’ll ask him.” She put her hand over the phone. “My friend Ashley and her husband are having some people over for dinner tomorrow night. She’d like to know if you’d be available to join them.”

“Tomorrow.” He studied her with those intense eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “For dinner?”

“Yes. For dinner. It’s not a big deal, just them and another couple, I think. Piper and Jason Franklin. I don’t know if you’ve met them.”

“No, I haven’t. But I’ve heard about him—he’s the mayor, right?”

She nodded.

“Sounds interesting.” He nodded. “Sure. I’d be happy to accept. I can drive us both there.”

Rowena swallowed her refusal, pulled her hand from the phone and told Ashley, “Connor says he’d like to come. What time?”

She got all the particulars, agreed she wouldn’t be late and finally hung up. Connor was frowning. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Just sorting things out.” He gazed at her, his forehead pleated in a tiny frown. “You said Masters. Any relation to the florist where your employees are staying?”

“Mrs. Masters is Ashley’s mother-in-law,” she told him, surprised by the funny smile that suddenly appeared. It made him look far less forbidding. “What?”

“Just thinking about the connections. They say everybody knows everyone else and their history when you live in a small town. I guess it’s true.”

The odd glint twinkling in his eyes made her nervous. Rowena struggled to maintain her equanimity. “Yes, well, I’d better get on home. I’ve got some stuff to do tonight.”

“You have something going almost every minute of the day, it seems,” he mused quietly, an edge to his tone. “Reminds me of someone.”

She lifted her freshly washed jacket from the second dryer in Wingate’s big laundry room, glad she wouldn’t have to go to the town Laundromat tonight.

“Who could I possibly remind you of?” she asked, only half paying attention.

“Me.”

That brought her head up. Rowena couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Definitely bad.” His eyes sparked a warning she didn’t understand.

Rowena straightened, struggling to understand what he wasn’t saying.

“Aren’t you the guy Wall Street applauded for never sleeping?” she asked. “A new deal every day?”

Surprise flickered across his face for an instant before he grinned. “The small-town rumor mill?”

She shook her head, chuckling. “Nothing so juicy. The Internet.”

“Ah.” He nodded. The serious look returned. “Work addicts don’t make for pleasant people, Rowena. Believe me, I know that better than most.”

She didn’t know how to respond. “If you’ve got a bag I’ll put my coat in it, take yours home with me and wash it. I’ll bring it back later, I promise.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a loss if you didn’t,” he mumbled but he handed her a plastic bag from a drawer. Rowena stuffed her coat into it, walked to the door. Her filthy boots sat outside, still covered in muck inside and out.

“Can I borrow those rubber boots of Dad’s back?” she asked.

“I’ll go you one better. These look like a better fit.” He handed her a pair that had to belong to one of his uncles. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty tomorrow evening, shall I?”

“I can drive,” she told him, refusing to look at his face.

“Yes, but why should you when I’m already driving?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He waited while she pulled on the jacket he’d lent her, gathered up the bag and pulled open the door.

“I won’t be around much tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Apparently I have to inspect the animals who are to be featured on Wingate’s menu.”

“Oh.” She turned up her nose.

“Exactly my opinion. But it seems the farmer wants to prove I’m getting a very good quality of beef.”

“Have fun.” She giggled, then pulled open the door.

“Rowena?”

“Yes?” She paused; when he didn’t speak she looked at him. All gaiety had leached from his face.

“Stay away from the terraces,” he ordered so softly it could have been a whisper.

“I will.” Something in his eyes compelled her to add, “Thanks for saving my life.”

Before Connor could respond, she scooted down the stairs and hurried over to her truck, squishing her way through the mud.

In spite of herself, she found herself looking forward to tomorrow evening.

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