proffered money. “I do hope she’s on the mend soon and can enjoy her garden again.”
“She won’t be going home, dear,” said the woman.
The doorbell clanged and over the white-grey puff of hair Joelle’s casual gaze met the brown eyes of sexy Doctor X. Heat skyrocketed up her neck and into her cheeks.
The woman slipped her change into her purse and sniffed. Joelle’s attention jerked back to her distressed customer. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “These have a lovely perfume.”
“Yes, I always choose strong smelling flowers for her. Thank you, dear.”
Doctor X opened the door carefully, minimising the crash of the bell. He closed it equally as gently and smiled at Joelle who stood, transfixed, by the counter.
Paul said harshly, “I can see you’re busy. I’ll call you some other time. Next week.”
He brushed by the new customer and strode from the shop, not caring that the door swung so violently the bell became detached from its moorings and crashed to the wooden floor with enough noise to awaken the dead. It rolled noisily across the floorboards and came to rest against a group of expensive glazed plant pots from China.
Joelle darted around the counter with a cry and Viv yelled from the workroom, “What on earth was that?”
“The bell fell down,” called Joelle.
Viv stuck her head through the bead curtain. “Thank goodness for that.”
Her eyes alighted on Doctor X who’d been standing observing the action with a broad smile on his face. She came through to stand behind the counter.
“Can I help you?” she purred in her most seductive voice.
Joelle flashed her a furious, warning frown from behind his turned back. Viv smiled innocently.
“I can handle the shop. You need to do that stock list,” Joelle said as she retrieved the bell. Luckily it hadn’t chipped the green glaze or damaged the swirling dragon motif of the pot it hit.
Doctor X hadn’t said a word. His gaze swivelled from one to the other. He said to Viv, “It’s actually the manager I need to speak to.”
“I’m the manager,” said Joelle. He knew that already, didn’t he? She handed the giant bell to Viv. “Hide this somewhere.”
“In the bin?” suggested Viv and cackled as she retreated to the back room with swaying rear end.
Joelle assumed her most professional manner and looked him right in the eye. On closer inspection, he seemed on edge, nervy and the tiniest bit flustered. The grin had faded. He looked lost. What had happened in the interim? She had an irrational, completely unprofessional and almost overwhelming urge to hug him.
“Sorry about all that,” she said. “How can I help? Was there a problem with your flowers?”
He didn’t reply for a few moments and she wondered if he’d heard her. Maybe that crash had rendered him temporarily deaf. Then, he said, “The flowers? No, no not at all. I think she liked them.”
He stared at her until she had to turn away and pretend to rearrange the closest bucket of bunched roses. He appeared to have forgotten why he’d come. Perhaps he was ill or suffering a breakdown of some sort. The intense scrutiny was becoming unnerving despite his overall attractiveness.
“Why did you want to see me?” she asked stiffly, her eyes on the rich red of the half-open buds.
“I wondered if you would like to have a cup of coffee with me,” he said.
“Now?” Joelle straightened in surprise. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say but it came as a relief. He must be shy rather than on the verge of a nervous collapse. The thought made her smile. A man unconscious of his attractiveness and unsure of a woman’s response evoked a feeling of protective tenderness—the same one that had created the urge to hug him.
“If you have time.” The tone was anxious. He seemed unwilling to push himself although earlier he’d flirted quite freely and confidently. Something had altered since she’d seen him. What? Joelle wanted to know.
“I
“She won’t be going home, dear,” said the woman.
The doorbell clanged and over the white-grey puff of hair Joelle’s casual gaze met the brown eyes of sexy Doctor X. Heat skyrocketed up her neck and into her cheeks.
The woman slipped her change into her purse and sniffed. Joelle’s attention jerked back to her distressed customer. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “These have a lovely perfume.”
“Yes, I always choose strong smelling flowers for her. Thank you, dear.”
Doctor X opened the door carefully, minimising the crash of the bell. He closed it equally as gently and smiled at Joelle who stood, transfixed, by the counter.
Paul said harshly, “I can see you’re busy. I’ll call you some other time. Next week.”
He brushed by the new customer and strode from the shop, not caring that the door swung so violently the bell became detached from its moorings and crashed to the wooden floor with enough noise to awaken the dead. It rolled noisily across the floorboards and came to rest against a group of expensive glazed plant pots from China.
Joelle darted around the counter with a cry and Viv yelled from the workroom, “What on earth was that?”
“The bell fell down,” called Joelle.
Viv stuck her head through the bead curtain. “Thank goodness for that.”
Her eyes alighted on Doctor X who’d been standing observing the action with a broad smile on his face. She came through to stand behind the counter.
“Can I help you?” she purred in her most seductive voice.
Joelle flashed her a furious, warning frown from behind his turned back. Viv smiled innocently.
“I can handle the shop. You need to do that stock list,” Joelle said as she retrieved the bell. Luckily it hadn’t chipped the green glaze or damaged the swirling dragon motif of the pot it hit.
Doctor X hadn’t said a word. His gaze swivelled from one to the other. He said to Viv, “It’s actually the manager I need to speak to.”
“I’m the manager,” said Joelle. He knew that already, didn’t he? She handed the giant bell to Viv. “Hide this somewhere.”
“In the bin?” suggested Viv and cackled as she retreated to the back room with swaying rear end.
Joelle assumed her most professional manner and looked him right in the eye. On closer inspection, he seemed on edge, nervy and the tiniest bit flustered. The grin had faded. He looked lost. What had happened in the interim? She had an irrational, completely unprofessional and almost overwhelming urge to hug him.
“Sorry about all that,” she said. “How can I help? Was there a problem with your flowers?”
He didn’t reply for a few moments and she wondered if he’d heard her. Maybe that crash had rendered him temporarily deaf. Then, he said, “The flowers? No, no not at all. I think she liked them.”
He stared at her until she had to turn away and pretend to rearrange the closest bucket of bunched roses. He appeared to have forgotten why he’d come. Perhaps he was ill or suffering a breakdown of some sort. The intense scrutiny was becoming unnerving despite his overall attractiveness.
“Why did you want to see me?” she asked stiffly, her eyes on the rich red of the half-open buds.
“I wondered if you would like to have a cup of coffee with me,” he said.
“Now?” Joelle straightened in surprise. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say but it came as a relief. He must be shy rather than on the verge of a nervous collapse. The thought made her smile. A man unconscious of his attractiveness and unsure of a woman’s response evoked a feeling of protective tenderness—the same one that had created the urge to hug him.
“If you have time.” The tone was anxious. He seemed unwilling to push himself although earlier he’d flirted quite freely and confidently. Something had altered since she’d seen him. What? Joelle wanted to know.
“I
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