Back on Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

Joe, and the way he supported and encouraged his wife and her new venture. She envied them their loving partnership. She wondered if her own marriage would have deepened into that mature love. She liked to think it would have. But her husband was dead—and Colette was pregnant with another man’s child.

      The phone rang just then and Colette answered it. As she started entering the details of an order, the front door opened and someone came into the shop. Susannah stepped out front to deal with the customer.

      Colette finished writing up the order—a bouquet to congratulate new parents on their baby. The flowers would be delivered to a local hospital that afternoon. Because the business was small, Susannah had hired a delivery service. The driver stopped by once a day to pick up the orders. Flower arrangements like this one, for joyous occasions, brought Susannah and Colette the most pleasure. Funeral wreaths and arrangements were a staple of the business, but Colette knew from her own experience that no quantity of flowers, regardless of how exotic or expensive, would ease the ache of having lost a family member. The point was to honor the person who’d died and to express condolences to the living.

      Susannah returned to the back room. “There’s a man out front who wants to speak to you.”

      “A man?” It could only be one person.

      Susannah stared at the business card in her hand. “Christian Dempsey. Isn’t he the man who left a phone message last week?”

      Colette nodded jerkily. She hadn’t called Christian back, which was probably stupid on her part. It was absurd to think he wouldn’t be able to find her. Knowing him as well as she did, she should have realized her lack of response would only heighten his desire to confront her.

      Squaring her shoulders, Colette moved slowly into the front of the shop and stood behind the counter. She would listen to whatever he had to say and pray that would be the end of it. However, nothing could have prepared her for the impact of seeing him again.

      It wasn’t that his appearance had changed. Christian looked just the same as he had last month. As soon as she entered the room, his eyes flew to hers.

      “Mr. Dempsey,” she said formally, which seemed a little ridiculous when she’d lain naked in his arms. But politeness offered her an emotional buffer she badly needed.

      He frowned. “In light of … uh, recent events, calling me by my first name might be more appropriate.”

      She studied him, not sure if he was making fun of her. What would be appropriate, Colette felt like saying, was to avoid any mention of their encounter at the hotel. “All right. Christian.”

      “Did you get my message?”

      “Yes. I did.” She didn’t offer any explanation as to why she hadn’t returned his call.

      His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Anyone else might not have noticed. Colette did. After five years of working with him, she was all too aware of the nuances that relayed his mood and his thoughts. He wasn’t pleased with her, and everything about him, his look, his stance, the set of his shoulders, told her so. She could only surmise that he’d discovered she was the one who’d written the letter. Coward that she was, Colette had no intention of bringing it up.

      His gaze continued to hold hers. “I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. Privately.”

      He knew. “That’s … not possible. I’m working.”

      “Then I’ll wait.”

      Nothing would intimidate walk-in customers faster than an irritated Christian Dempsey.

      Colette hesitated and then reluctantly gave in. It wouldn’t do any good to put this off, she decided; he’d only come back. “I’ll see if my employer can spare me.”

      Christian responded with a curt nod and she hurried to ask Susannah if she could leave early.

      “Who is that guy?” Susannah whispered the minute Colette reappeared.

      “My former boss. Would it be okay if I left now?”

      “With him?” Susannah frowned, clearly concerned.

      “It isn’t like we have a lot to say to each other.” In Colette’s opinion, this conversation should take about five seconds. Her biggest worry was how she’d feel afterward. The attraction was still there, despite everything she knew about him.

      “Take all the time you need,” Susannah told her. “Just promise me that speaking to this man is something you want to do.”

      It was, and it definitely wasn’t. “I need to,” she said, letting that explanation suffice.

      Christian was waiting for her out front. Ever the gentleman, he held the door for her as they left the flower shop. She half expected some comment on the type of employment she’d taken after leaving Dempsey Imports. He said nothing.

      “There’s a café across the street,” he said, gesturing toward the French Café with its striped awning. One of the windows displayed a multitude of baked delicacies and through the other they could see small tables and chairs.

      “Why don’t we go for a short walk instead?” She didn’t want anyone from the café to listen in on their conversation.

      Christian was agreeable. They spoke briefly, exchanging pleasantries as they strolled down Blossom Street. Christian walked with his hands behind his back, careful to keep pace with her shorter strides. What struck Colette was the way they both struggled to maintain a facade of unfamiliarity. They acted like strangers when they so obviously weren’t.

      “How are you?” Christian asked. He turned to look at her as if he possessed the uncanny ability to see straight through her, which in fact he did.

      “I’m very well, thank you.” She hoped her voice didn’t reveal how on edge she really felt.

      “I mean, how are you … physically?” he asked again.

      “Physically?” she repeated.

      “Do I need to spell it out for you?” His words were impatient. “If I remember correctly, neither of us took the time to employ any measures to prevent pregnancy.”

      “Oh.” Embarrassment lit up her cheeks brighter than the red signal light at the intersection. “I’m fine. There’s … nothing to worry about.”

      He didn’t seem to believe her.

      “If that’s all,” she said, ready to part company, “I should be getting back.” Her mind was crowded with questions and accusations. She’d never taken Christian for a fool and yet she had proof that he was trafficking in Chinese aliens. Seeing him confused her. She didn’t want to think about him or give him reasons to suspect she carried his child. The sooner they said their good-byes, the better.

      “No, there’s more,” he countered sharply. He hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure how to formulate the next question. After a brief pause, he blurted out, “I’d like you to return to Dempsey Imports.”

      His request shocked her, and Colette automatically shook her head. “I can’t.”

      When the light changed, they crossed the street and continued walking, no real destination in mind.

      Christian waited until they were on the other side. “Is it because of what happened?”

      “Christian,” she murmured and instantly knew he hadn’t found out about the letter. “It wouldn’t work. It’s unfortunate and I feel bad, but that night will always stand between us.”

      “And day.”

      He seemed to be trying to add to her embarrassment.

      “Fine, and that day,” she admitted. “It doesn’t matter. Working together is no longer an option.”

      “All right,” he said regretfully. “I realize I made a mistake after the holidays. The relationship changed and I had