Losing Control - By Robyn Grady Page 0,43

thought about organizing to have flowers put on her grave each anniversary of her death, but I can't bear to think of them sitting there, week after week, all withered and brown. I should probably go plant a rosebush or something. Not sure if that's allowed."

But she'd talked enough about the past. She wanted to get back those other, happy feelings.

Winding a finger through a lock of hair that had fallen over his brow, she said, "By the way, I like the flower you brought back for me this morning."

"Flower?"

"The red hibiscus. It's as big as a plate." When he frowned, she went on. "You left it on the table, remember?"

"Oh, that. No. That boy with the bucket brought it back from the spring yesterday. He must have ducked in to leave it there for you. It was closed up, asleep, when we found it."

Taryn blinked then said, "Oh," and forced an easy smile. "I just assumed it was you. Doesn't matter."

But deep down, it stung a little. Made her feel foolish for thinking he'd gone to the trouble.

Which meant she was getting way too caught up here. Yes, they'd slept together - a number of times in only a few hours. The day they'd met, Cole had suggested she may have had an affair with her former boss, which she'd denied, and she felt he'd believed her. But did he wonder about that now? Or did he see this experience for what it was? A once-in-a-lifetime fling between two consenting adults who happened to work together. It wasn't ideal but it happened. It had happened to them.

And thinking of it that way only reinforced that she had no reason to come over all adolescent now. He didn't give her that flower. Didn't matter. No big deal.

He was studying her neck, sliding a fingertip around the decolletage.

"You don't wear a chain," he said.

"I have a pile of costume jewelry," she said, her thoughts preoccupied now.

"But nothing that says Tiffany?"

"Their pieces are beautiful, but I'm not a jewelry kind of girl." She was a flower kind of girl.

He looked at her for a long moment as if debating something in his head...like maybe how he would handle this situation when they got back? How he would go about closing the door. Perhaps with a parting gift. A piece of jewelry. She'd already accepted that what had happened between them was never meant to last. And yet as that feeling of preoccupation turned into unease, suddenly she knew they'd spent enough time in bed. They needed to start moving. Get back to reality. To work. She'd mentioned it earlier so Cole knew that her video camera was charged, ready for a shoot involving that volcano.

He must have sensed or seen her change in mood because, tipping back, he said the words for her.

"Perhaps we should get on with our day."

"I think that's a good call."

Without another word, he slid out from beneath the sheets and, naked, headed for the adjoining bathroom. But Taryn lay there a moment longer, going over in her mind the past few minutes. She didn't accept expensive gifts. She didn't want them. But believing that he'd brought a flower back here for her...

A simple thought like that would have meant so much.

* * *

When he came out from the shower, into the main room, Taryn was moving away from the table. He saw that flower lying there. She'd said it had been as large as a plate, but now, again, all the petals were closed.

"Did you get your message?" she asked, moving to her laptop, which sat on the kitchen counter.

"Message?" he asked.

"Your phone beeped again. Twice."

He rubbed his brow, dragging his hand down his face. It was a gorgeous Saturday morning. He was on a picturesque Pacific isle with a woman who made love like a goddess and, ten minutes ago, had again put up her wall. Because he'd hinted at giving her a gift? Well, that was one for the books. Or was there something he wasn't seeing?

He returned to the bedroom and slid his cell off the dresser. Three recent messages. All from his father.

After he'd listened to the first, he didn't need to hear the rest. Didn't need to feel any sicker. Angrier. When he got hold of Jeremy Judge, by God, he'd throw him down on the ground and -

"Business?"

He glanced up. Taryn stood at the doorway, her long fair hair loose and hanging over bare shoulders. She wore a strappy lime-green dress