The Bouquet List by Barbara Deleo Page A

friend’s father, and you did what he asked. It was one thing to disappoint a girl whose family he didn’t know, but when any relationship he might have with Yasmin broke down, as it surely would given how different they were, she’d still have her family, but he wouldn’t. And he couldn’t risk that happening.
    Yasmin was sitting across from him, her face flushed and her fingers knit together in front of her as if she were waiting for him to pass down a sentence. Her hair was pulled off her face and the tiny diamond in her nose twinkled under the restaurant lights.
    “Yasmin, I…”
    “I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I?” She gave him a rueful smile. “Well, join the club, but I won’t apologize for going after something that I want, and I’m not changing my mind. I’m not unattractive, you and I have had some great laughs together, and we’re both going to be moving along in a few weeks, so what have we got to lose?”
    He scratched his head, as if putting his hand a little closer to his brain might give him some inspiration for getting out of this without hurting her feelings. Not unattractive? That was the understatement of the year. Yasmin had always been striking with her long black hair and her high Grecian cheekbones, but now, with her new hair color and the out-there way she was dressing, she was the sort of person you’d crane your neck to get another look at. What could a woman like her see in someone as focused and predictable as him?
    “Yasmin, I’m flattered, I really am. But I’ve promised your dad we’ll have an updated restaurant opening a month from now. That’s my priority.” He shifted the napkin from one side of his plate to the other. “You don’t really want a guy like me. Look at you. You should be with some artsy type, a poet or an architect at least. Someone who likes socializing. And I’m none of those things.”
    She touched the delicate butterfly at her neck. Damn if it wasn’t one of the sexiest things about her. A headache bit behind his eyes. Was he mad? Had the grinding hours of work and the lonely road of being in charge and making money fried every cell in his brain?
    She lifted a slim shoulder and her eyes twinkled. “Well, I guess you can’t blame a girl for trying.”
    “Dessert? We have pistachio ice cream or a delicious cardamom cream pie.”
    Oh God, not more whipped cream!
    The waiter stood in front of them and a smile slowly spread across Yasmin’s face. She looked back at Lane, and he’d never wished so hard that he could be someone completely different, someone who could live life on a whim like she obviously could. But whims were transitory and fleeting, and that wasn’t the way he wanted to live his life, or the way he’d treat relationships.
    “Well, the least you can do is be a gentleman and share a piece of cream pie.”
    He looked into her eyes and wondered, now that he knew what she wanted from him, how he could keep away from her for a month.
    …
    Yasmin sat in the Palace restaurant the next day, waiting for Lane to appear. She’d been making notes on her laptop getting ready for their meeting this morning, but now she stared at the screen as her thoughts wandered to last night.
    What a complete and absolute embarrassment she’d been to herself. Why had she intellectualized it all and tried to explain what she wanted? If she’d just done what most normal people do—find the right moment then make a move—things might have turned out differently. She picked up the remains of her breakfast, a piece of Leo’s warm olive bread, and chewed. And if Lane hadn’t been such a gentleman and tried to change the subject after she’d embarrassed him beyond belief, she quite likely wouldn’t have come out from under her rock this morning.
    They’d ended the night with him dropping her home, and she’d apologized for making him feel weird about her proposition, but told him she was glad she’d said it. He’d just smiled and said that he’d