The Bachelor's Baby Dilemma. Sheri WhiteFeather

to fix a few meals when Ivy is old enough to eat solid food.” He shrugged, smiled. “To keep her from starving on the nanny’s days off.”

      She smiled, too. “It’s easy to cook for little kids.”

      “Unless Ivy turns out to be a picky eater.”

      “Is Meagan a picky eater?”

      “My sister is a picky everything. No, wait, strike that. She has no discretion when it comes to men.” Rather than get worked up about the baby’s deadbeat dad, he abruptly said, “I brought you a little something.”

      “You did?”

      “I left it on the dining table. I’ll go get it.”

      He grabbed the gift bag, came back and handed it to her.

      “This is lovely,” she said, looking at the bag.

      “It came like that.” A floral design, topped with a curlicue bow. “I can’t take credit for it.”

      She opened the bag and uncovered the seed packages. “Oh, Tanner, these are perfect. Thank you.”

      “I figured you could plant them when the time felt right. I imagine you’ll want to have a garden at the next place you live.”

      “I definitely will. Eric and Dana have a garden in their backyard that was inspired by mine. I can enjoy theirs while I’m staying with them, but I can’t stay there forever. I’ll need to create new roots for myself.” She sorted through the seeds. “I wonder what these combinations mean.”

      “Mean?”

      “Just about every plant or flower has a meaning. It’s called floriography. In the Victorian era, people used to communicate through the bouquets they exchanged. They used flower-language dictionaries to help them decipher the codes. I just started learning about it, and I’ve been thinking about planting my next garden that way, by grouping specific plants and flowers together to create messages.”

      “That sounds fascinating. I like that idea.”

      “Not all of the dictionaries were the same. Some flowers had several different meanings, depending on what dictionary was being used.”

      “That could get confusing.”

      “I suspect that some of the messages were deciphered incorrectly.” She studied the seed packages again. “I have a book about floriography. Should I look these up?”

      “Sure.” Why not? He couldn’t begin to guess what sort of code would be unmasked. “I chose them randomly, so who knows what will surface?”

      “The book is over there.” She headed for the antique cart in the corner. “I think it’s on the bottom shelf.” She bent down and scanned a grouping of books. “Here it is.”

      Before she got started, he asked, “Will you look up the ivy plant and see if it’s in there?” He couldn’t help but wonder about the name Meagan had picked for her daughter.

      Candy went straight to a glossary in the back. “Let’s see. Oh, here we go. Ivy. The first sentiment is ‘wedded love.’ But it also means ‘friendship.’”

      He made a face. “Talk about a contradiction in terms. A man sends a woman a wreath of ivy because he regards her as a friend, and she assumes that he wants to marry her.”

      She laughed a little. “That would be a disaster. But I prefer ‘wedded love.’ Most women would, I suppose.”

      Most marriage-minded women, he thought, and apparently some divorced ones, too. He was already curious about her failed marriage, and now it was driven even deeper into his mind. But why wouldn’t it be, especially after the importance she’d placed all those years ago on being some future guy’s wife?

      She shook the seed packet of a flowering shrub and said, “Let’s see what this means.” After checking the glossary, she pursed her lips. “It says, ‘I am dangerous.’”

      “Is that supposed to apply to you or to me?”

      “To you. The person giving the plant.” She searched his gaze, her eyes locking onto his. “So, are you, Tanner?”

      Dangerous? A man capable of creating peril? How was he supposed to respond to something like that? “I guess it depends on how you define it.”

      “Maybe we shouldn’t try to figure it out. Maybe it’s better to just take it at face value.”

      And assume that he was? “What do the rest of the seeds mean?” Mundane things, he hoped. He didn’t like feeling that his character was on the line.

      She went back to the book. “The next one is ‘protection from danger.’” Her voice turned light. “Oh, my goodness, how funny is that?”

      Oddly funny. But he was grateful for the reprieve. “First I tell you I’m dangerous, then I offer you protection from danger. I’m quite a guy.”

      “You certainly have a way with floriography.”

      “So it seems.”

      “Should I keep going?” she asked.

      “You might as well.” He was too curious to stop now.

      Again, she consulted the book. “Now you’re asking me to dance.”

      “I am?”

      “Yes. It says, ‘Will you dance with me?’”

      “I saw you dancing by yourself earlier.”

      Her cheeks flushed. “That was embarrassing.”

      “I thought you looked cute. And there’s no need to be embarrassed around me. I’ve seen you dance by yourself before.”

      She gave him a pointed look. “Performing on stage is different from assuming that you’re alone in your kitchen.”

      He shrugged, trying to get himself off the hook. “As long as we’re talking dances, do you remember what kind of flowers that were on the corsage I gave you when I took you to the prom?”

      “Yes, I remember. A girl doesn’t forget the first time a boy gives her a corsage.” She glanced at her wrist, as if the ornament was still there. “It was a white carnation with baby’s breath.”

      “And what do those mean?”

      She checked the glossary. “White carnations symbolize innocence.” After a slight pause, she added, “That’s what baby’s breath means, too.”

      “Go figure. A dangerous boy and an innocent girl.” He was beginning to enjoy these messages, to see them in a whole new way. “Maybe there is something to this flower-language stuff.”

      She closed the book with a soft whoosh, fluttering its pages. “You’re only saying that because I got stuck with the innocent mantle.”

      “Would you rather have a wild mantle?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Just tell me what flower symbolizes a wanton woman, and I’ll give you one of those the next time I take you dancing.”

      “You aren’t taking me anywhere, smarty.”

      “According to the floriography, I already asked you to dance.” He bowed like a gentleman caller who was going to waltz her around the kitchen.

      She laughed. “Go use your charms on someone else.”

      “Don’t be hasty.” Still bent at the waist, he peered up at her. “Have you forgotten my offer of protection?”

      “From the dangerous cad that you are?” She moved away from him. “I think it’s time for me to finish cleaning the corn.”

      “Sure. Go ahead. Just let me suffer here alone.”

      She rolled her eyes and returned to the sink. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

      All