St. Pierre climbed down from his pickup truck like a vision from out of the pages of her magazines.
The man was as handsome as Derek Jeter. And that was saying something. Kerri was no baseball fan, but Derek had made his way into the celebrity news section of her favorite magazine more than once.
Unlike Derek, Colton needed a wardrobe makeover. She let go of a sappy sigh just thinking about the fun she’d have dressing Colton St. Pierre in something hand tailored.
Too bad the man had a thing for another woman. It didn’t even matter that Jess had given Kerri permission to pursue Colton. How was she going to get Colton interested when he only cared about Jess?
A woman could break a heart chasing a man who loved someone else. Kerri had learned that the hard way.
She waited, wondering if she should go out there and tell Colton that Jess wasn’t in her office. The woman had left shortly after Caleb Tate had gone up there. Kerri had debated whether she should drop in on her tenant with a cup of coffee just in case Tate got ugly. There was something about that man that made Kerri’s skin crawl.
But discretion was the better part of valor. So she’d stayed put and let Jess handle Tate on her own. And she didn’t get up now, either.
She turned back to her magazine, but when the little bell above the door rang a moment later, she was nothing short of surprised.
Colton was big and male and sucked up much of the available space and air in her small boutique. The proverbial lightbulb flashed above her head—maybe he’d come to see her and not the woman who rented the office space upstairs.
He moved carefully, as if he might be afraid to knock over the pretty daffodil-themed knickknacks occupying every shelf.
“Is Jessica upstairs?” he asked without preamble.
Well, that was predictable.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you knock on the door and find out?” she asked.
He turned and took a step toward the door before she took pity on him. “No, she’s not up there. She left around lunchtime and hasn’t been back yet.”
“Oh,” he said, turning and jamming his hands into his pockets. He seemed more awkward than disappointed. What was up with that?
“You can wait here for her, if you like. Can I get you a cup of coffee? A Coke?”
He nodded. “A Coke would be great.”
She hurried to the workroom and snagged a canned Coke from the small fridge. She stopped at the mirror and gave her hair a once-over. She looked okay. And she was a fool and an idiot for checking.
“Caleb Tate came by to see her a little while ago,” Kerri said as she returned to the sales floor.
“What?” Colton seemed agitated by this news.
“He didn’t stay long. Maybe five minutes. And she left right after. Maybe ten minutes ago.”
He pulled out his phone and punched in a number, and then put it to his ear. A moment later he disconnected the call.
“She didn’t answer?” Kerri asked.
He shook his head as he picked up one of the daffodil-print coffee mugs and studied it. What was going on in his head?
And then, out of the blue, he said, “You know, Rose Howland didn’t plant those daffodils by herself.” He was referring to the daffodils that had given Jonquil Island its name. The story was that Rose Howland, mourning for the drowned pirate Captain Teal, had planted the flowers in his memory.
“No?” she asked. She might have batted her eyes at him a little shamelessly.
Colton put down the cup and turned toward Kerri, his Spanish moss–colored eyes sharp. “There’s an old family story about how Henri St. Pierre did most of the work.”
“Really? Who was he?”
He strolled to the counter, where he leaned forward, invading her space. Her heart rate climbed.
“You don’t know your history. I find that amusing since you’ve got a shop that trades on the whole daffodil thing.”
“I bought this shop from Mildred Sawyer when she retired. I wasn’t thinking about history. I was examining her profit-and-loss statements. I have an MBA from Georgia Tech.”
He gave her a wide smile. The man was beautiful. Even his teeth. “You like looking at numbers?”
I like looking at you. But instead of telling him her innermost thoughts, she said, “I do. Numbers never lie.”
He blinked for a moment. “Why do I get the feeling that’s a commentary on the human race?”
She shook her head. “Not on the human race, just some people in