Damon [The Texas Senator's Sons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about, and lying just pisses me off, sweetheart!” he said while pointing his finger at her and pursing his lips tightly together.

“Look, whatever y’all have going on is not my problem. It’s that simple.” She flitted across the room for her broom and tried keeping herself occupied until she could figure out what to do. She could call the police, but what would she tell them? She supposed they could escort him from the premises, but that would be the extent of it. Maybe he’d just go away. She had a business to run after all.

Damon grabbed the broom from her hands. “I know that you know what I’m talking about, and if I wasn’t worried, I wouldn’t be here.”

Regan got momentarily lost in his eyes and could sense the urgency in his voice, but felt compelled to ask anyway. “If you are so worried about her, why don’t you just call the police, or I don’t know, a private investigator!”

“My private detective turned up nothing. For all I know, she’s using an alias. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t done anything wrong yet, so the police can’t help me. I really can’t trust anyone.” He pleaded sincerely with his eyes.

Regan laughed. It was either nervousness or he just all of a sudden tickled her funny bone. “Okay, you got me! Am I on a greatest prank show or something?” She glanced around her shop for any indication of a camera.

“You think this is funny, huh. I didn’t think it was amusing…and no, you’re not on a prank show, and I really can’t trust anyone to help.”

Regan’s laugh died quickly, and her smile deflated instantly. “Let me get this straight…you can’t call the police, and your PI turned up nothing, but you need help from a florist?” she scoffed.

“Yeah, I guess that’s pretty amusing after all.” Damon laughed. “Seriously, I do need your help.”

Regan’s uneasiness subsided with the genuine laugh that came from deep inside Damon, although his need for her to help was…well crazy. “What in the world could I possibly help you with, really?” Her eyes searched his for an answer.

“Simple, really. You seem to know the nature of women, and since you helped get us into this mess then you can help get us out.” Damon walked over to the wall and parked her broom.

“What is the problem, anyway? I mean, if she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Damon interrupted her. “Here’s the deal…after he came into your shop six months ago and you did your mumbo jumbo, he got a date with her…anyway, long story short they are engaged now, and he’s head over heels!”

Regan giggled. This was really funny. Damon was worried because his brother was in love with a stripper. “Huh, in six short months, huh? Geez, jealous?” she teased.

“No!” Damon barked out quickly.

“Okay, don’t get all defensive.” Regan batted her lashes and finally felt in control of the situation.
So, he needs my help
.
Nah, he just thinks he does.

Damon paced in the small shop as if deep in thought. He looked like he’d lost his puppy.

“I don’t see the problem…if he’s happy…what’s the big deal? I mean, do your parents not know she’s a stripper or something?” Regan asked as she went about her work. Damon wasn’t a threat—he was just a gorgeous distraction.

Damon growled in his chest, getting Regan’s attention. “It’s not so trivial, and no, my parents don’t know she’s a stripper. Heaven forbid they find out. My mother would stroke out.” He shook his head as he continued to pace.

“So, if you need my help why don’t you tell me how
I
could possibly help? I can’t agree to help you if I don’t know.”

When Damon told her he needed her help for the weekend and the next week, she nearly fell off her stool. Didn’t he realize she had a business to run? Honestly, in five years she hadn’t even taken a vacation. And he thought she could just up and go on some sleuthing mission with a man she hadn’t even known fifteen minutes! And that wasn’t even the worst of it!

Of course, she said no. Then she said no again emphatically! It was an idiotic plan anyway. How would they even get the stripper-fiancée of his brother’s to agree to break off the relationship anyhow? And what could she find out about this woman in a week? The idea that really took the cake was when Damon suggested that she go apply for a job at the gentleman’s club where the stripper-fiancée worked! No way in hell was that going to happen. What was with guys and their foolish ideas anyway?

Furthermore, how did he really know if said woman was a bad girl with intentions of doing his brother wrong? He didn’t. He only suspected that the quick proposal meant she had duped his brother somehow. Other than that he knew nothing…nothing!

She almost agreed to help when he flashed his lost puppy dog eyes at her. It was cute and had lots of potential to suck her in. Well, she didn’t get where she was by being naïve and dense. And she definitely couldn’t swoop in like a superhero and aid everyone that came her way. She drew the line at helping men clean up their acts when it came to flowers and romance. Of course, that was only if they specifically asked for advice. Unsolicited advice always fell on deaf ears.

Regan sighed and continued to sweep the floor. The man was intoxicating and wow, gorgeous though.
Huh
. He almost had her. She smiled and mentally patted herself on the back. She had resisted even when her body screamed for his touch. If it was any other time or circumstance, she would love to explore the curves of his abs, kiss those succulent lips, and lose herself in the moment.

Sadly, her feminine desires would just have to wait. Tomorrow was Saturday, and she had a huge Gothic wedding to decorate for. She couldn’t forget it when her cooler looked like a funeral waiting to happen, not to mention the rest of the décor that needed to be completed tonight. To each their own, she thought. If they wanted black, crimson, and deep purple flowers and were spending a fortune in the process, who was she to deny that?

* * * *

When Damon walked out, he turned and gave her a smile. “Think about it,” he said and allowed the door close behind him.

Outside he looked up at the blue sky. He didn’t mean to come off as such a cocky bastard, but the situation with Drew and his father’s upcoming election had his nerves shot all to hell. Deep down, he was a compassionate man, or had been. Now, he wished he hadn’t seemed like such an ass. Regan was not at all the woman he had expected to encounter. She was in fact a woman he’d like to get to know a lot better. The damage was done now, he thought and walked to his truck.
Nice job, dumbass.

* * * *

Regan rolled her eyes and went back to the counter to pick up where she had left off before he had shown up. Her body still hummed with energy from being near him. She shook her head and tried to gather her thoughts. Her mind wasn’t on work. It was on the man she allowed to walk out her door. “Arrrgh,” she said, growling. Maybe cleaning would clear her mind, she thought.

One hour left until close and Regan sighed as she put up her broom and dustpan. It was time to tackle the table bouquets for tomorrow’s wedding. Bree, her friend and extra staff member for weddings, came in the door with squeal. “This is going to be the coolest wedding in the world!” She threw her purse behind the counter with her hazel eyes twinkling in excitement.

Regan frowned. Her idea of wedding décor included bright and cheery colors like chartreuse and hot pink. She had to consider the source, though. Bree had dyed her hair jet black and had it cut into a short bob indicative of flapper girls from the 1920s. It looked great on her, she had to admit, with her cute, round face and pouty lips glossed over in red. “I’m glad you think so.” She smiled and walked ahead to the cooler to start working.

“I do!” Bree giggled as she pulled long ebony calla lilies from the water. “These are magnificent! No one uses stuff like this, and it’s a shame because they are so elegant.”

Regan nodded. They were a very unique flower, but black? She surveyed the cooler. “It looks like we are decorating for Count Dracula!”

Bree laughed as she pulled a long section of black velvet ribbon from the roll. “The Count has very good taste!”

“As long as the bride is happy then I’m happy. I just don’t have to like it,” Regan added while snipping the stems off dark crimson roses in full open bloom.

“Well, don’t.” Bree tied the ribbon in a simple bow around the stems of the black calla lilies. “Really though, you like a challenge and wowing people with new creations. I would have thought you’d be a little more excited about this.”

Regan thought for a moment, pushing the water vials of roses into Styrofoam. She really needed to look on the brighter side. She would do that right after she pushed Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome out of her head. She couldn’t help it. He was, wow, amazingly gorgeous, and had oodles of sex appeal. She began to feel a little awful about sending him packing out her front door with a stern “No!” on her lips. His plan was ridiculous, beyond ridiculous, ludicrous, that was it.

“Earth to Regan!” Bree said, her voice echoing off the walls of the small space.

Regan snapped to attention and looked at Bree. “What?”

“Challenges, you like challenges.” Bree tried to continue what she had started.

Regan was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind, just never mind.” Bree shook her head and continued to work. “What’s up with you today? First you can’t say anything nice about the flowers, and now you’re zoned out. Something is up. You can always find something redeeming to say about any flower, even the ugly ones!”

Regan smiled. “There’s no such thing as an ugly flower.”

“That’s a start,” Bree said while she pulled more black lilies out of the bucket.

Regan grinned. No, nothing was wrong, her mind was just occupied by a hot cowboy that
thought
he needed her help. Oh well, he was long gone now.

“Well, are you going to tell me?” Bree tapped her foot on the tile.

Regan sighed. Bree wasn’t going to let this go, so she gave in and told Bree about Damon and his goofy plan. She even confessed how hot he made her just by being close.

“You are brain-dead, I swear.” Bree shook her head. “Why would you turn him down? You haven’t even been on a date since…since? How long has it been, anyway? I lost count.”

Regan frowned and exhaled loudly. “Eight months, twelve days.”

“You’re nuts, completely nuts! The man begs for your help, and you’re apparently totally turned on by him, and you say no? You haven’t been accidentally drinking the Floralife, mistaking it for Crystal Light, have you?”

Regan smacked Bree with a handful of greenery. “No!”

“Well something’s wrong,” Bree muttered and continued to work.

“Really? Would you go along with such an idiotic plan with a man you knew nothing about?”

Bree pointed her finger at Regan and laughed. “I’m not the one who hasn’t had a date in eight months and twelve days! But if I were in your shoes, hell yeah!”

Regan dismissed her with a wave of her hand, “He could be some…I don’t know, serial killer or something!”

Bree rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Yeah, okay, and he concocted a really good story and knew of your customer six months ago, uh huh.”

“It could happen.” Regan smirked. But she knew as the sun would set and rise again tomorrow that Damon was telling the truth.

Bree gasped loudly. “You’re scared! Ah, yes, that’s it! You, my dear, are chickenshit deluxe with a side scaredy-cat on the side!”

Regan couldn’t help but laugh with a snort. “Oh my goodness! How old are you? Eight?”

“Laugh at me if you want, but I’m not playing it safe and hiding in a floral cooler, now am I?” Bree cocked her neck back and forth, being cocky and arrogant, and snapped her fingers in a divalike fashion.

Regan laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. “Do I know you?”

“Yes, but I don’t know you or, rather, what happened to you. You jumped in and took a big risk with this business and made a major success of it and now? Tsk-tsk.”

“So, you think I should have offered to help and made a complete ass out of myself trying to get a job at a strip club at my age?” Regan raised her brows, questioning.

“What about your age? Dang girl, you’re hot, you work out—nice figure, perky breasts, and a firm behind. You don’t look twenty-nine at all,” Bree noted while walking around Regan like she was a specimen for review.

“Uh, thanks…I think,” Regan replied, throwing a handful of leaves and stems toward the trash can.

“Girl, use or lose it. It’s just that simple!”

“Yeah, whatever. I already told him no, so I probably won’t be seeing him again.” Even though she said it, she hoped it wasn’t true. I’m not
sure I could go along with such a ruse, I’d still like to see him again though, and definitely more of him, all of him.

“Well, didn’t he leave him number? A business card?” Bree questioned, taking a drink of her latte.

“No,” Regan said with disappointment evident in her voice.

“Don’t even tell me he didn’t tell you his last name!” Bree waltzed across the cooler to stand in front of Regan. Her hands jutted against her hips.

“No, but it doesn’t matter now.” Regan frowned.