Full Bloom (5 page)

O
n Monday morning Emily was in the middle of experimenting with a deceptively simple design using three magnificent daisies and a spray of myrtle when she again allowed herself to think about Jacob Stone. She had been thinking about him on and off since Saturday. The truth was, she couldn't get him out of her mind. There was no getting around the fact that she was secretly disappointed he hadn't reappeared on Sunday.

She also wondered what her father would say if he knew that his handpicked troubleshooter was not only happy to save Emily from a dangerous marriage, he was also interested in taking her to bed.

Gifford Ravenscroft would be outraged. Catherine Ravenscroft would be livid. And as for Drake, well, Drake was a little less predictable, but Emily was almost certain he wouldn't approve. He was as protective of Emily as everyone else in the family.

Emily knew her family well enough to guess that although they might be willing to use Jacob Stone's peculiar talents when it suited them, they were not likely to view him as any more suitable as a son-in-law than they had Brad Carlton or Damon Morrell.

The Ravenscrofts were not above trying to arrange a marriage for their one and only daughter. As with most other things in life, Emily's family tended to view marriage as a business matter. Emily had been introduced to enough "suitable" men by her parents to know exactly what type they had in mind for her. Someone established and successful in his own right, with good family and social connections. Someone who would be willing to sign a contract guaranteeing he would keep his hands off Emily's shares in Ravenscroft International.

Emily grinned as she thought of the shares she owned. They definitely constituted a thorn in the side of the rest of the Ravenscrofts. But Grandmother Emelina Ravenscroft had always been good at irritating the other Ravenscrofts. She had always considered herself their conscience. It had been her money that had originally started Ravenscroft International, although she freely admitted it had been her husband's natural predatory qualities that had made the firm so successful. It had been the perfect marriage combining money and business talent and RI had prospered.

Emily's grandfather had left his shares of the firm to his son, Gifford, and his grandson, Drake. But her grandmother had stunned everyone by leaving her piece of the firm to Emily. No one had quite recovered from the shock.

When the family had gathered itself sufficiently to think logically once more, Emily had been told that it would be best if she surrendered her interest to her father and brother. The firm could not afford to buy her out.

Emily, remembering the deathbed promise she had made in private to her grandmother, had calmly refused. She had never explained what had been said between herself and her grandmother during that private interview, and no one had thought to ask. All the rest of the family cared about was the fact that for the first time in her life, Emily was defying them.

It had been her first major act of defiance, and no one had believed she would stand firm. It was assumed she would give in on this matter just as she had crumpled at the age of eighteen when she had been informed she would go to an exclusive private college, not join an artists' colony as she had planned.

Two years had passed since Emily had started Emily's Garden against her family's wishes, but the Ravenscrofts still had trouble believing Emily had truly changed.

"Practicing for the big flower show, Emily?" Diane asked casually as she came through the shop door after lunch. She peered at the delicate design taking shape under Emily's fingers. "I like that arrangement, but frankly I've got to tell you it might be a little too subtle for the judges. You know how they were last year."

"Just because I didn't win last year doesn't mean the judges don't respect subtlety," Emily said. "We have to take into account the possibility that the winning entry was actually a better design than the one I submitted."

"Hah. I refuse to admit that." Diane made a theatrical gesture with her right hand. "Yours was perfect. Magnificent. A tribute to the melding of two cultures. You combined the Japanese approach to celebrating the harmony and grandeur in nature with the Western love of opulence. It was a work of art and the judges were blind. This year, skip the simple celebration of harmony and grandeur and go for opulence."

Emily frowned consideringly down at her creation. "You think so?"

"Trust me. Give 'em glitz and dazzle this year. You've got to hit those turkey judges over the head with color and lushness. We're dealing with simple brains that need to be stimulated by glitter. They're incapable of appreciating the subtle approach."

"Speaking of simple brains," Emily interrupted, remembering a business matter. "The secretary from Baker, Schmidt and Baker called just after you went out to lunch."

"Just because Baker, Schmidt and Baker are a bunch of advertising executives doesn't mean they're all simple-minded, Emily."

"I suppose you're right. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. At any rate, the firm is giving a reception for its clients on the fifth next month, and they want us to do the flowers."

"Great. We'll have to notify the wholesalers by the end of this week if we want to be sure they'll have everything we need in stock."

"I know. We'd better put a list together today. By the way—"

Emily broke off as the phone rang. Automatically she reached out to pick up the receiver. Too late she realized she should have let Diane answer it. Damon
Morrell's deep voice came on the line. Damon had a way of making the most mundane greeting sound surprisingly intimate.

"Hey, how's my favorite flower lady today? How was the trip to Portland?" Damon asked with characteristic easy confidence. "I missed you, Emily. Spent a very dull weekend. I hope yours was equally dull. I thought we might we able to squeeze in dinner tomorrow night. What do you say?"

Emily hesitated, wishing she'd had her excuses ready. "I'm afraid I'm going to be busy tomorrow night, Damon." Weak. Very weak.

"I'm adaptable. How about doing something this evening? I just got back from a
racquetball game and I'm about to step into a shower. What do you say I pick you up around seven? We'll have dinner at that little Italian cafe in the market."

It was his automatic assumption that she would be available on such short
notice that made Emily realize just how close Damon had been getting lately. She
had thought of him as a casual, friendly companion for the past few weeks, but
suddenly she had to acknowledge that he might have been stalking her. Without
her being really aware of it, the relationship had somehow gotten to the point where Damon fully expected her to accept any invitation he extended. She wondered if he was going to break a date with the mysterious Marcia in order to be free tonight.

It was time to start easing out of the situation. Preferably without any major confrontations. Emily hated confrontations. She was much better at handling them than she used to be, thanks to her assertiveness training course, but she still disliked the emotional turmoil they caused within her. Too many years of trying to appease her family had taken its toll.

"Thanks, Damon, but I've already made plans for this evening and I'm sure you have, too. Maybe some other time."

There was a startled moment of silence on the other end of the line. Then Damon said lightly. "Other plans? Me? Are you kidding? No such luck. I was just going to have a sandwich and go over a few papers at home." His voice became coaxing. "Come on, honey, let's get together tonight. We can try another place if you don't want Italian food. I'm open and I really want to see you. Name your poison."

Emily summoned up her assertiveness training. "Thank you for the invitation, Damon, but I'm afraid I'm not free tonight."

"Well, if you don't feel like going out, we can eat in. I'll pick up some takeout from a delicatessen and a bottle of wine and we can relax at your place."

There was an underlying forcefulness in Damon's voice now. He was a man who was accustomed to getting his own way. It occurred to Emily that she knew entirely too many people who had that problem. She closed her eyes and repeated the simple, nonconfrontational words just as she had been taught. Quiet repetition was the trick.

"Thank you for the invitation, Damon, but I'm afraid I'm not free tonight."

"How about Wednesday night?" he demanded instantly.

Emily swallowed. "I'm going to be busy Wednesday night, also."

"Is that right?" Damon sounded distinctly skeptical. "Well, maybe early next week. I'll give you a call. Have a good time tonight and tomorrow night and Wednesday." He hung up the phone with a cool impatience that filtered through the line.

Emily shuddered with relief as she replaced the receiver. Diane was watching her.

"That was Damon Morrell getting the brush-off?"

"I'm afraid so. All I could think about was that tape recording of him telling his lady friend that he was going to marry me in order to get control of my RI shares. Somehow the magic went out of the relationship after I heard that."

"I can see why. I must say you handled it well. Very calm and nonconfrontational."

"My assertiveness instructor would be proud," Emily agreed dryly.

"Of course, that leaves you with an empty evening," Diane pointed out.

"It won't be the first. I'll do something exciting like wash my hair. Hand me that bunch of snapdragons, will you? And that lily. You may be right—this might be the year to go for glitz and glamour."

"Now you're talking."

But at five o'clock that afternoon, Emily glanced up from putting the last of the unsold flowers into the cooler and got the distinct impression she was not going to be spending the evening alone washing her hair, after all.

Jacob Stone walked purposefully through the front door, and Emily instantly conjured up images of bulls in china shops. He came to a halt in the middle of the small store, and Emily changed her mind. He wasn't exactly a bull tiptoeing through stacks of delicate china cups and saucers. He was more like a dragon in a tea garden.

Jacob paused and looked around with considerable interest. He was wearing a gray windbreaker over a dark shirt and dark trousers. He had made no concession to the light mist that was falling outside and his hair was damp. He took his time examining the place as if mentally cataloging every square inch of it.

"Can I help you?" Diane asked cheerfully. Her eyes
were speculative as she ran them over the newcomer.

Jacob spared her a short glance and then his gaze moved on to Emily, who was watching him from behind a huge bunch of yellow jonquils.

"No, thanks. I came to ask Emily to have dinner with me. Hello, Emily."

Emily peered at him through the flowers. "Hello, Jacob. This is a surprise."

"Isn't it, though?" Diane said without batting an eye. "And an interesting one, too. Emily has other plans for the evening. She's going to wash her hair. So you're
Jacob?"

Jacob switched his gaze back to her. "That's right. Jacob Stone."

"Ah, yes," Diane said wisely. "You're the one who periodically steps in to rescue Emily. I heard all about the way you tracked down the guy who was holding her for ransom five years ago."

"Is that right?" Jacob studied Diane more closely, and then he smiled his cryptic smile. "Did she tell you that when I came through the window all set to deal with a crazed maniac wielding a gun. I found Emily playing gin rummy with her kidnapper? He had put the gun down on a table and Emily was keeping score. Everything was so calm and ordinary that I thought I'd broken into the wrong cabin."

"No," Diane murmured with great interest, "she didn't tell me that part. But Emily has a way of charming the strangest people. Who won the gin game?"

"It wasn't funny," Emily said reproachfully. "I felt very sorry for that poor man. He was mentally ill, but he never really meant any harm. He was just feeling alone and desperate."

Jacob shook his head. "Amazing, isn't it?" he said to Diane. "The guy kidnaps her at gunpoint, holds her for nearly forty-eight hours and then she says she felt sorry for him."

"Well, I did feel sorry for him," Emily muttered. "But the main reason I started the gin game was to get him to put down the gun. I was getting nervous having it pointed at me all the time."

"I can imagine," Diane said, shaking her head with the same disbelieving air Jacob had used. "You're right, Mr. Stone. It is amazing. Good night, you two." She picked up her purse and headed for the door. "Hope you both have a great time playing in the soap suds. See you, Emily." She was out the door before Emily could think of an excuse to get her to stay. The shop seemed very quiet after she left.

"I thought you'd be back in Portland by now," Emily said as she put the jonquils in the cooler.

"I flew back Saturday morning, picked up some things and drove back to Seattle today." He was watching her intently.

"Just to make sure I follow orders regarding Damon Morrell? You really do go above and beyond the call of duty, don't you?"

"I came back to see you, Emily," he said steadily

"Did you?" She realized the strange feeling she felt inside herself was from some new and alien form of excitement. It was as if she had been anticipating Jacob's arrival all day, which was patently ridiculous. Desperately she tried to calm herself.

"I had to take care of the Morrell situation for your family first, Emily. Then I thought I'd give you a day or so to put things back into perspective. Do you understand about Morrell?"

She thought of what it must be like as a trusted employee to receive a direct request from the boss. What else could Jacob have done except agree to handle Morrell, she wondered. "Yes, I understand."

He nodded, clearly relieved at her unexpectedly reasonable attitude. "I knew you would once you'd had a chance to think about it. Your relationship with him was dangerous for you. But that's all behind us now." He hesitated and then said bluntly, "I'd like to take you to dinner tonight."

"Jacob, I—"

He cut her off quickly, his brows forming a heavy, intent line. "I know you're probably still a little upset with me for my part in that business with Morrell, but you're an intelligent woman, Emily. You know I only did what I had to do. So did your family, for that matter. Let me take you to dinner." He smiled bleakly. "I owe you that much, at least."