Million Dollar Valentine. Rita Estrada Clay

needed to fall in love and marry a millionaire who possessed a whole list of qualities Crystal required—trust, sense of humor, nice looks and a sense of adventure. And one who loved her as much as she loved him. That was a must.

      How hard could that be? When working at the exclusive hotel, she was in the right business and the right place to meet wealthy businessmen. In fact, she’d met several, but, as of yet, not the right one. It wasn’t that money was the only criteria. She needed more than money, but money was part of the equation. That sense of humor thing was really important, too. So was trust.

      Keeping her goal of the perfect relationship in sight left all thoughts of entertaining a deeper relationship with Blake Wright out of her personal picture. He was sexy and handsome, but he wasn’t wealthy. That meant she wouldn’t look any further.

      It wasn’t that Blake wasn’t worth a second look; it was that she had her heart set in a different direction. A different goal.

      “Lunchtime,” Linda said, touching her arm. “Shelly will be here in a few minutes to help cover for you. But if you want, why don’t you go now and look around a little? We don’t have any crunch to deal with right now.”

      “Thanks,” Crystal said, reaching for her small, crocheted purse. Slinging it over her shoulder, she gave a wave and walked out.

      Five minutes later, Crystal stared at the particularly unusual piece of art in a store window as she began walking away—only to walk right into Blake Wright’s arms.

      Her first reaction was a shiver of apprehension at the scent of danger.

      Her second reaction was an exhilarating sense of delight.

      But it wasn’t the same reaction for Blake Wright. The handsome man was frowning down at her, his hands holding her arms as if they were iron railings and he was falling….

      2

      “WE’VE GOT to keep meeting like this,” Crystal said, enjoying being in his arms even though his expression resembled a thundercloud. “I love surprises.”

      “You weren’t looking where you were going.” His frown made his thick, arched brows meet over the strong bridge of his nose.

      And, of course she hadn’t been watching, or she wouldn’t be in his arms now. The way he said it, it sounded like an accusation. “No, I wasn’t, was I?” she said brightly. “But I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.”

      “What?” If possible, the crease between his brows grew deeper.

      “Well, I ran into the arms of a handsome man who is pure gentleman and with whom I’m safe.”

      He continued to frown. Where was this man’s sense of humor? Apparently, her words didn’t please him any more than her actions. “It could have been different.”

      Crystal gently pulled away. “But it wasn’t,” she reminded him firmly. “So I won’t spend time worrying about what could have been.”

      He dropped his hands to his sides and she continued to walk. “Where are you going?”

      Crystal raised her brows. “I beg your pardon?” It was her coolest voice, and it usually worked well with men in stalling any personal question.

      It didn’t seem to faze him. “It’s lunchtime. Where are you going?”

      “Eventually to the flower shop’s back room. I have my own meal from home.” She took another step back. “But right now, I’m walking the mall and checking out the window displays.”

      Blake hesitated a moment, and Crystal realized he didn’t know quite what to say. She took pity on him. “Do you have a few minutes to walk along with me?”

      He gave a quick nod. “A few. I’d like that.”

      Crystal pulled out a plastic sandwich bag from her purse and opened it, offering him a taste as if it were Godiva chocolate. “Would you like a carrot stick?”

      “Carrot?” He peered inside the bag.

      He couldn’t be that ignorant. Carrots were good for a body, and he had to know that. “It won’t hurt, I promise,” she said, then something else caught her eye.

      Her gaze rested on the next window. It was filled with young children’s clothing; all the latest styles. She stopped and studied the bright colors, the way the mannequins had their soft cotton overall pant legs rolled, and the brilliant neon-colored buckets of sand for decoration. She forgot for a moment that he was standing by her side.

      “Do you like children?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

      She continued studying the window. “Love them. Especially if they belong to someone else and they’re already little people, like these mannequins. See that tunnel?” she asked, pointing to the child-size plastic tunnel that ran around a square inside. It was meant to keep the children happy while their parents shopped.

      “Yes.”

      “They never had those when I was growing up. I’ve always wanted to go through one of those.”

      His brows, so expressive, rose. “What for?”

      “For the fun of it.”

      “There are other ways to have fun, Ms. Tynan.”

      She laughed, then began walking toward the next window, eager to see what the other merchants had done with their windows. “I mean so I could be with kids—kids who can talk and walk and explore the wonders of the world. Not babies,” she said conversationally.

      It took him a moment or so to catch up with her thoughts and answer them. “I thought all women liked babies.”

      “I don’t know about all women. Just me, and I do. And I will know more about them when I have one of my own. But for now, I like the ones that can tell me what they need.” She chewed her carrot stick, then reached for another one. “My goddaughter, Brenna, is three, and it’s a wonderful age.”

      “I thought three was an awful age.”

      Crystal stopped and thought a moment. “No. I think those are the terrible twos.”

      “You mean they turn three, and the terrible twos are over? Candles, cakes and then the big change?” he asked.

      Crystal slowed in midstep. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him in wonder. “You just made a joke.”

      He stopped and faced her, blocking out the current window dressing. “And?”

      “I’m startled. That’s all.” She was shocked, but she wouldn’t let him know how shocked she was.

      “Why?”

      “Well,” she began, studying the faint crinkle lines around his beautiful blue eyes. If he ever fully smiled, her heart better watch out! “Until now, you’ve hardly done anything but frown at me since we met this morning.”

      “That’s not true.” But the light in his eyes told the story. He just realized she was right, and how stern he’d been with her.

      “Yes, it is,” she contested softly, gently, unwilling to begin another argument but not willing to agree for the sake of agreement, either. “And your smile is dynamite, as is the twinkle in your handsome blue eyes.”

      Blake gave a rueful sigh. “First you accuse me of being a grouch, act as if I’m anal retentive, and then you tell me I’m handsome. Are you always so direct?”

      “I try to be,” she said modestly, pleased that he could at least read her correctly. There might be hope for him yet, even though it’d be with another woman. “And don’t forget honest.”

      He gave a laugh, delightful lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes again. His smile truly was dynamite, when he used it. Darn. Taking his arm, she turned him around and began walking again.