Bed of Roses Page 0,45

by eight for the first. That's A.M., Tink."

Tink rolled her eyes, and kept stripping thorns.

"We break down the first at three thirty, and need the second fully dressed by five thirty. Sunday, we have a big one, a single starting at four. So we'll need to start at ten or ten thirty."

"I'll try to squeeze what there is of my life in there," Tink said dolefully.

"You'll manage. I'll take what you've processed back to the cooler and get the stock we need for the arrangements." As she picked up the first container and turned, Jack walked in.

"Oh . . . Hi."

"Hi back. How's it going, Tink?"

"Emma drives the slaves."

"Yes, she is abused constantly," Emma said. "You can there-there her while I haul these back to the cooler."

God, she thought, he looked so good in his fieldwork clothes, the boots, the faded jeans, the shirt rolled up to the elbows.

She wished she could take just one quick bite.

"Why don't I give you a hand?" He hefted another tub and started back to the cooler.

"We're a little crazy this week," Emma told him. "A midweek off site, and four events over the weekend. Sunday's wedding is a monster - in a good way." She set her tub down, gestured where Jack should place his. "Now I need to - "

He spun her around, boosted her up to her toes in one fast move. Her arms locked around his neck in a combination of instinct and answer even as his mouth laid claim to hers. The wild, rich perfume of flowers saturated the air just as need and pleasure saturated her body. Greed and urgency swam through her blood.

Not just one bite, she thought, and not quick. She wanted gulp after gulp.

"Does that door lock from the inside?"

She tunneled her fingers through his hair to bring his mouth back to hers. "What door?"

"Emma, you're killing me. Let me just - "

"Oh, that door. No. Wait. Damn it. Just one more." She caught his face in her hands this time, let herself simply sink into the kiss, the perfume, the greed. Then eased back.

"We can't. Tink. And . . ." Regretfully, she blew out a breath as she glanced around. "There really isn't room in here."

"When is she leaving? I'll come back."

"I don't know, exactly, but . . . Wait."

Now he took her face, met her eyes. "Why?"

"I . . . I can't think of a good reason, but that may be because I lost many thousands of brain cells during that kiss. I can't remember if I have any evening appointments. My mind's wiped clean."

"I'm coming back at seven. I'll bring food. Unless you call me and say otherwise. Seven, here."

"Okay. All right. I'll check my book when I regain the power of cogent thought. But - "

"Seven," he repeated and kissed her again. "If we need to talk, we'll talk."

"It may have to be in short, declarative sentences and words of one or two syllables."

"We can do that." His grin shot fresh heat straight to her belly. "Do you need anything out of here?"

"Yes, but I can't remember what. Give me a second." She pushed her hands through her hair, closed her eyes. "All right, yeah. Those, those. Then you've really got to go away. I can't work if I'm thinking about you, this. Sex. Any of it."

"Tell me about it. Seven," he repeated, and helped her carry out the flowers.

"I'll, uh, get back to you on that," she told him when he set the flowers in her work area. "When I'm not so . . . busy."

"Great." The warm gray eyes lingered on her just a moment longer. "See you, Tink."

"You bet." Tink clipped another few stems while Jack left, then slid them into their holding tub. "So, when did you and Jack start doing it?"

"Doing what? Oh. Tink." Shaking her head, Emma turned to her shelves to select the proper container for the fireplace arrangement she had planned. "We're not."

"If you tell me he didn't plant a big yummy one on you back there, I'm going to call you a liar."

"I don't understand why you . . ." Stupid, Emma told herself, then reached for her flower foam. "How do you know?"

"Because your eyes were still glazed when you came back, and he looked like a guy who'd only gotten a few nibbles when he's ready for a great big bite."

"Bite. Ha-ha."

"Why aren't you doing it? He's prime."

"I'm - we're . . . You know, sex doesn't fluster me. I