Aphrodite's Garden (A Fast Break Romance) (2 page)

She walked up the sidewalk to stand on the wide front porch. With her finger poised above the doorbell, she almost lost her nerve, but the door swung open before she had a chance to sound the warning of her presence. She looked up into the soft brown eyes of possibly the most stunning man she’d ever met . . .

the man she’d seen tending roses when Venus had touched her yesterday. He stood well over six feet tall with tousled, sun-streaked, sandy brown hair, the kind that grew just a bit on the long side and made a woman’s fingers itch to feel its texture. He wore a pair of red flannel pajama pants and nothing else.

“Oh–I’m sorry,” she stammered. She pressed her hand against her throat and explained, “I was just about to ring the bell.” He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable. He stooped down and picked up the morning paper that lay at her feet. In the process, he allowed his gaze to travel from her toes to her face and back.

Goose flesh erupted over Aimee’s entire body. Breathing became a cumbersome task. Her eyes were drawn to his broad shoulders and muscular chest lightly covered with silky brown hair.

He cleared his throat. When she looked back up at his face, she noticed that a rakish grin pulled at one corner of his sensuous mouth. “Can I help you?”

His deep, South Georgia drawl, softened by remnants of sleep, tugged at every point of awareness in Aimee’s body. She recognized that she really needed to pull it together before he slammed his vintage door in her face, but it didn’t seem to be in the cards for her immediate future. Not with him standing there, all that beautiful bare skin exposed . . . enticing her.

“I’m looking for Kenneth Hartman?”

“That’s me,” he confirmed. “Do you have an emergency?”

“Yes.”

“Come in,” he said.

All vestiges of sleep seemed to leave him in an instant.

Aimee wished she could find her tongue and make her brain work as quickly.

“Is your child in the car? Do you need me to help bring him or her in?”

“Him, and no,” Aimee said, puzzled.

“Okay. I’ll just throw on a shirt, grab my bag, and you can take me to him.”

He turned and sprinted up the stairs.

“No, you don’t understand. My child is fine.” He stopped mid-way up and walked back down. Maybe she should have waited to clear up the misunderstanding
after
he’d put on a shirt. Geez, she felt almost compelled to touch him. She clasped her hands behind her back. “Are you a doctor?”

“Yes. A pediatrician. It’s not unusual for folks to show up here on the weekend with an emergency. I just assumed . . .”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea you were a doctor.”

“Let’s start over. Please call me Ken.”

“Thank you, and I’m Aimee. Aimee Rose.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Aimee.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So, what
is
your emergency?”

“I’m here about your roses.”

The gorgeous man frowned. “My roses?”

“Yes. Venus sent me.”

“Venus?”

“Aphrodite? She said she stopped by and told you about me? I own Aphrodite’s Garden in Perry?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know a Venus Aphrodite. What a name.”

He smiled. Dear Lord, could a person’s heart actually leap in response to a man’s smile?

“Yes, meeting her was pretty overwhelming. She insisted that I come here. She assured me that you’d be willing to help me meet demand for June. You know, weddings, anniversaries, and then there’s the Perry Rose Day parade.” Ken smiled again. “Why don’t you have a seat in the parlor, Aimee. I think I’m going to need a cup of coffee to process this.” He turned to walk toward the back of the house. “Can I get you some?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Make yourself at home,” he invited.

She could do just that, she thought. What a house. So inviting and cozy. She removed her jacket and sat on a red, velvet loveseat that practically surrounded her in its comfort. She could just imagine a small fire crackling in the fireplace on a cold winter day, chasing away the morning chill. Today, warm sunshine streamed in through lace-covered windows promising another warm, late spring day.

“Here you go.”

He handed her a cup of coffee. He’d pulled on a plain white t-shirt, she noticed. She also noticed the disappointment that rocked through her.

“Do you take cream?”

“No, black is fine.”

He settled into the other corner of the small couch. He was so close, she could smell the warm, manly scent of him . . . that enticing scent that clung to a man first thing in the morning. He took a long sip of coffee, sighed and then said, “So, someone sent you here about my roses?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re with Aphrodite’s Garden. I haven’t heard of it, but I don’t get down to Perry very often. My practice keeps me close to home.”

“I’m a florist,” she explained. “I’m sure you probably know that pretty much all of the south’s roses have been destroyed.”

“Yes. The ladies from the local chapter of the American Rose Society told me about it. I’ve been concerned about mine, but so far so good.”

“An amazing stroke of luck, I’d say. Who do you supply?”

“The children’s hospital, the nursing home, whoever needs them.”

“Who does your arrangements? Do you work with a florist?”

“No, never,” he said.

“I don’t understand, Ken.”

“My flowers aren’t for sale. I grow them because I enjoy them and because I have a knack for it. They make people happy.

Seeing the look on a sick child’s face when I bring them into their hospital room, that’s all the payment I need.”

“But Venus said–”

“As I said, I don’t know anyone named Venus.”

“She gave me your card.” Aimee pulled it from her back pocket and handed it to him.

He examined it, frowning. “I’ve never seen this.” He handed it back to her.

This was not working out the way she had envisioned. But Venus had warned her that she might need to convince him. Aimee set her cup on the coffee table, then turned to Ken. “You may find this difficult to believe, but I don’t do this for the money either. I have what some call a gift for arranging roses in such a way that they make the perfect statement for any occasion. Arranging roses, having them in my hands, is something I must do. And if I help bring people together with my arrangements along the way, that’s what’s gratifying for me. The money I make just helps me take care of my son and the essentials of life. I’m not rich and never will be.”

“There are thousands of varieties of flowers. Why not just use them?”

“It has to be roses.”

“Why?”

Aimee paused. “I guess you could say I have an affinity for roses. When I do arrangements without them, it doesn’t work the same way.”

Ken leaned closer to her. Aimee inhaled. She could feel his warmth, and she had the insane urge to touch the dark, morning stubble lining his strong, angular jaw.

“Which are your favorites?” he asked softly.

“Red,” she said immediately. “The variety of colors are endless, but classic red has always been my favorite. Simple . . .

timeless . . . vivid.”

He touched her hand with the tips of his fingers. She was surprised at first, but it felt so right, so natural, she didn’t pull away. “Will you help me?” she asked

His lips were so close. With only the slightest movement, she could kiss him. On the heels of that thought, such an intense longing swept over her that it stole her breath. Where was this coming from? She felt like she’d known him all her life rather than these few brief moments.

He must have felt it, too, because he turned his hand over and clasped her fingers, then turned his hand again and laced his fingers with hers. What was this hold he had on her? He looked into her eyes, and she felt drawn to him . . . wanted everything at once. She wanted him to hold her, wanted to run her fingers through his thick, tousled hair, wanted to know how it would feel to be kissed by him . . .

He said something, but she couldn’t make out the words.

Her attention centered on his fascinating lips. She scraped her teeth over her lower lip. His gaze followed the movement as if he were fascinated. He leaned forward, giving her time to stop him, but she didn’t, couldn’t. He pressed a short, sweet kiss to her lips that didn’t begin to satisfy. He brushed her hair away from her face with both hands. “So beautiful.”

She grasped his wrist with one hand, touched his face with the other. “Ken,” she whispered. “What’s happening?”

“I’m not sure.”

He tilted her head and slanted his mouth across hers. He swept his tongue along the seam of her lips, silently asking her to let him deepen the kiss. She hesitated. She wanted to go on kissing him forever, but she’d come here for a reason. When he sweetly breathed her name against her lips, she forgot everything but the feelings stirring inside her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and continued kissing him. He tasted like coffee and mint and sweet dreams.

He broke the kiss, but trailed his mouth down the side of her throat. “This is insane,” he said.

“I know, but I can’t seem to stop . . .” Had she said that out loud?

He explored her face with soft, feather-light kisses.

“Aimee,” he whispered, leaning back, he looked into her eyes. As he continued to hold her in his arms, all Aimee could think was that she fit against his chest like she’d been made for him. When he again touched his lips to hers, she didn’t know how much more she could take. She had to think. She’d come here–a complete stranger–to talk to him, to obtain his help with something . . . The roses?

She grasped his shoulders and pushed a little away. The smoky look in his eyes started a longing in her heart she couldn’t justify, the kind of longing she knew would turn into a persistent ache. They were complete strangers. How could she feel so much so quickly for someone she didn’t even know?

Ken stood and walked to the window. He raked a hand through his hair, taking in deep, gulps of air.

What must he think of her? She’d never done anything like this before. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. Sure, there had been men in her life since her divorce, but nothing long-term.

For a very long time, there had been no one. The only constants in her life were her son and her shop.

She looked back at Ken. This man was a complete stranger.

Realization hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. He must think she would . . . that for the roses, she would . . . Oh, she couldn’t even think it! She had to get out of here.

He turned back to her then. She still sat in the corner of the sofa where he’d left her. He took a step toward her, a puzzled look on his face. She stood and backed away from him, horrified by her behavior. She couldn’t blame him. She’d been a willing participant.

More than willing.

“Aimee, I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” she said, as she continued her retreat. “I’m the one who should apologize. This clearly was a mistake. I didn’t come here to, I mean–I’m sorry.” She picked up her jacket and bolted for the door.

“Aimee, wait!”

She had already sprinted down the sidewalk and wrenched open the door to her car when he stepped out onto the porch.

“What about the roses?”

Without looking back, she got in her car, slammed the door, and pulled out of his drive, leaving a trail of gravel dust in her wake.

*

“Thank goodness you’re back,” Becky said as Aimee entered her shop. “The phone has been ringing off the hook. I have at least fifty orders here. I also made appointments for two people to come in to talk to you about doing their weddings.” Aimee removed the sign from the window, walked behind the counter, took off her jacket, and set her purse down. “Guess we’d better start calling them back to cancel.”

“Cancel? I thought you said you had a line on some roses.”

“It was a dead-end.” The phone rang. “I’ll change the voice mail message to let people know we don’t have any roses. Then we can just let the incoming calls roll over to that while we call these folks back.”

The heart-shaped bells strung on the door handle tinkled as someone entered the shop. Aimee looked up from the stack of orders she held in her hand to see Venus strolling across the room toward her. Today, she wore a form-fitting red jumpsuit with a wide white belt and a gold Cupid broach pinned to the lapel.

“You blew it, honey,” she said without preamble.

A curious Becky looked from Venus to Aimee, expecting an introduction. No way was she going there. “
Umm
, Becky, would you mind giving us a second? I need to speak to this customer in private.”

Becky gave her a look that said she’d demand complete details later. “Sure.”

After her friend was securely in the back with the door closed, Aimee said, “What did you think you were doing?”

“I was trying to salvage the Year of the Rose for us. You gave up too soon. And you almost had him eating out of the palm of your hand.” She shook her head, clearly disappointed.

“You didn’t exactly pave the way like you said you would.

He had no idea who you were.”

“I thought you could handle it, and you were doing quite nicely.”

“I behaved . . .” Aimee found that she couldn’t finish that sentence, so she said, “I couldn’t control myself.”

“I know.” Venus flipped her long, thick ponytail over her shoulder and propped her head in her hand as she leaned against the counter. “Wasn’t it wonderful?” she sighed.

“I felt like a . . . a . . . Oh! I don’t even know if he’s married!”

“He’s decidedly single.”

That bit of information pleased her immensely, but she’d never admit it. “Well, regardless, I can’t imagine what he thought.

That’s why I got the heck out of there.”

“Without even looking at the roses.” Venus clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

“You did something yesterday, didn’t you? When you looked into my eyes, you did something. I saw him working in his garden. How could that be when I had never met him before?”

“Just a little magic, honey. Something you haven’t had nearly enough of in your life.”

Aimee closed her eyes and groaned. “I suppose that magic included us not being able to keep our hands off each other.” Avoiding the topic of magic, Venus said, “Didn’t you like him?”