Million Dollar Valentine. Rita Estrada Clay

in the mall. She wanted to try her hand at something different than the ordinary and average. She wasn’t sure how, yet. But if she studied the problem, it would come to her.

      Solutions always did.

      Half an hour after the news, she kissed her aunt good-night. “I’ll see you in the morning, dear. If you need me, call and I’ll hear you.”

      “I’ll be fine, Crystal. I broke my arm, not my head. And I feel frustrated enough not being able to the do what I want,” the older woman groused. “Just give me another week or two, and I’ll find my stride again.”

      “I’ll give you six weeks, Aunt. No less,” she promised, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

      But after Crystal was in her bedroom at the end of the hall for fifteen minutes, she found herself too keyed up to be able to sleep. No matter what, her thoughts wound back to Blake and their talk. She relived everything he said and did. Every movement he made. Every emotion that he brought out in her. And she became more awake by the minute.

      He was so frustrating. Was there a wild, devil-may-care bone in his body? Did he ever run naked through his apartment? What about belly laughs that massaged his every organ?

      Forcing herself to focus on something else, she lit one of the scented candles she’d brought with her from Santa Fe and sat cross-legged in the center of her bed. With her hands palms up and open to all kinds of possibilities, she took several deep breaths to cleanse her body of all the pent-up carbon monoxide she’d cultivated all day. After a few minutes, she did her transcendental meditation. If it was good enough for half the doctors in the world to proclaim it as calming medication for the heart, then it was good enough for her to quickly erase the provocative image of a more free, spontaneous, Blake Wright running through a field of mountain flowers in joyous abandon—naked.

      She hoped.

      3

      “SO FAR, your floral designs with the wild color combinations have sold like hotcakes!” Standing at the cash register, Linda sounded just a little shocked by that fact as she watched a woman holding one of Crystal’s floral arrangements walk out of the store.

      Crystal, standing at the work counter, laughed. “It’s the price, Linda. My creations don’t sell for as much as Aunt Helen’s or yours because they’re not as elaborate.”

      “Oh, I’m sure, and the colors aren’t found in the usual Entrée type of arrangements.” She sounded so puzzled that Crystal almost felt sorry for her.

      “I know, but you see, customers get to walk out of here with an original from a very exclusive shop and feel as if they got a bargain.”

      Linda’s face lit up. “Of course. They get the Entrée name without paying the full Entrée price or getting the Entrée colors.” Her words finally sunk into her own thoughts and her eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t mean that your efforts weren’t good! I mean, they must be or they wouldn’t have sold at all and they’d still be sitting on the shelf and not being sold….”

      Crystal gave her new friend a hug. “Don’t worry. I understand what you’re trying to say and I appreciate it. But I know they’re not the same as what the store usually stocks.”

      Then yet another customer came up to the counter with one of Crystal’s creations and set it down. Without saying a word, she pulled out her Visa card and offered it in payment.

      “The yellow, blue and cream,” Linda said, as amazed as she’d been earlier.

      It took everything Crystal had to make sure she didn’t laugh aloud. “That will be thirty-six dollars,” she said as she ran the card through the machine.

      Within seconds she had a funny feeling. A very distinct and definite funny feeling.

      Blake was close by.

      She handed the woman a pen while her gaze searched the front door area. But she’d waited too late to spot him there. He was already inside the shop and standing to the right of the register area, studying one of her creations with a quizzical look on his somber handsome face. Obviously, he didn’t understand the attraction, either.

      Crystal would have bet that the colors and design were just a little too wild for Blake to take a liking to. It wasn’t his taste at all. Just like its creator.

      Just then, he looked up and locked eyes with her. He stared at her as deeply as he had examined the arrangement. Just for a change of pace—and to shock him a little by proving she could do it if she wanted to—Crystal had worn makeup at full war-paint level and had wrapped her hair to the top back of her head, securing it with an Oriental hair pin. It ached to be let loose and fall and tumble about her shoulders. Small, golden tendrils curled around her hairline, emphasizing her features. Then she topped it off with a short-skirted navy suit with a bright-red blouse. And high—very high—heels.

      It was an occasion. She donned this outfit maybe once a year and reveled in the double takes she got from people who knew her. Until Blake said something about it, she wasn’t going to comment, either. But his reaction was worth a thousand words. She just wanted to prove she could look the executive when she wanted to. He’d probably never see it again.

      “Are you here to identify me in a lineup, or to take me to lunch?” she asked casually while separating the paper receipts. She turned back to her customer before he could answer. “Thank you for your business, and if we can help you customize an arrangement, please let us know. We’ll be glad to make one with your personal colors.”

      “Thank you,” the woman said delightedly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      “So, you remembered we were having lunch today?” he asked, after the customer had left the store.

      “Of course. I was just waiting for you to tell me where to meet you.” She grinned. “You could have saved yourself the trip and called with the info. I could have met you.”

      His gaze wandered down her body, straying here and there and causing heat to rise in her like sap in spring. It was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to light his fire. But he never cracked a smile at her choice of wardrobe. “I always pick up my dates.”

      “In that case, Blake, I’m ready.” Ignoring his formality, she moved over to his side, took his arm and gave a short wave to Linda, who was watching as if there was nothing else going on in the world.

      “Where are we going?” Crystal said as they passed through the store and into the mall area.

      He tightened his arm at his side as if to keep and capture her hand. “To my office. Do you mind?”

      Crystal stopped and, unwilling to let her go, Blake stopped with her, waiting for her to speak.

      “Are you attempting to ravish my body during lunch without permission?” she asked, cautiously.

      A light flared in his deep-blue eyes. “No. I’d never do that.”

      Darn. He was still in control and still building tension between them. Blake was some kinda guy. “Are your intentions honorable?”

      His sculpted mouth twitched. “Of course.”

      She laughed softly. “Liar.”

      “That’s not true. If I say it, I mean it.” He finally let a small smile through. “Although I can only guarantee now, Ms. Tynan. I can’t guarantee later.”

      An almost joke. He was warming up, and warming up her heart, too. She tugged on his arm. “Let’s go, then. You can’t do anything without getting between me and my food. I won’t stand for it.”

      “Now I know where your priorities lie,” he said, his steady gait once more leading her toward his office.

      She kept pace by taking two rickety steps to every one he took. But she wasn’t going to admit how hard it was for her to walk