NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

 English rose, she thought and let out a half laugh. Once, long ago, she might have appeared that fragile and dewy. She turned and studied one of her healthy stock plants. She was much more like that now, sturdy and strong.

 And that, she thought as she got back to work, was just fine with her.

 DESPITE THE STEADYrain, Mitch took a walk around the buildings, and gained even more respect for Roz and what she’d built. And built almost single-handedly, he thought. The Harper money may have given her a cushion, he decided, but it took more than funds to create all this.

 It took guts and vision and hard work.

 Had he actually made that lame, clichéd comment about her skin? English rose, he thought now and shook his head. Like she hadn’t heard that one before.

 In any case, it wasn’t even particularly apt. She was no delicate English rose. More a black rose, he decided, long and slender and exotic. A little haughty, a lot sexy.

 He’d learned a lot about her life, just from that conversation in her work space. A lot about her. She’d lost someone she’d loved very much—her grandmother—at a tender age. She hadn’t been very close with her parents. And had lost them as well. Her relatives were far-flung, and it didn’t appear she had close relations with any of them.

 Other than her sons, she had no one.

 And after her husband’s death, she’d had only herself to depend on, only herself to turn to while she raised three boys.

 But he’d detected no sense of pity, certainly no weakness in her.

 Independent, direct, strong. But there was humor there, and a good heart. Hadn’t she helped him out when he’d been floundering over a toy for a little girl? And hadn’t she been amused by his dilemma?

 Now that he’d begun to get a good sense of her, he only wanted to know more.

 What was the deal with the second husband and the divorce, for instance? None of his business, of course, but he could justify the curiosity. The more he knew, the more he knew. And it wouldn’t be difficult to find out. People just loved to talk.

 All you had to do was ask the questions.

 On impulse, he detoured back into the center. There were a few customers debating over the poinsettias and some sort of cactus-looking plant that was loaded with pink blossoms. Mitch had barely raked a hand through his wet hair when Hayley arrowed in his direction.

 “Dr. Carnegie! What a nice surprise.”

 “Mitch. How are you, Hayley, and the baby?”

 “We both couldn’t be better. But look at you, you’re soaked! Can I get you a towel?”

 “No, I’m fine. I couldn’t resist walking around, looking the place over.”

 “Oh.” She beamed at him, all innocence. “Were you looking for Roz?”

 “Found her. I’m about to head over to the house, get a sense of my work space there. But I thought maybe I’d pick up one of those tabletop trees. The ones that’re already decorated.”

 “Aren’t they sweet? Really nice for a small space, or an office.”

 “A lot nicer than the old artificial one I fight to put together every year.”

 “And they smell just like Christmas.” She steered him over. “You see one you like?”

 “Ah . . . this one’s fine.”

 “I just love all the little red bows and those tiny Santas. I’ll get you a box for it.”

 “Thanks. What are those?”

 “Those are Christmas cacti. Aren’t they beautiful? Harper grafts them. He’s going to show me how one of these days. You know, you should have one. They’re so celebrational. And they bloom for Christmas and Easter.”

 “I’m not good with plants.”

 “Why, you don’t have to do much of anything for it.” She set those big baby blue eyes on him. “You live in an apartment, don’t you? If you take the tree, a Christmas cactus, a couple of poinsettias, you’ll be all decorated for the holidays. You can have company over, and be set.”

 “I don’t know how much attention Josh is going to pay to a cactus.”

 She smiled. “Maybe not, but you must have a date over for a holiday drink, right?”

 “Ah . . . I’ve been pretty busy with the book.”

 “A handsome single man like you must have to beat the ladies off with a stick.”

 “Not lately. Um—”

 “You should have a wreath for the door, too.”

 “A wreath.” He began to feel slightly desperate as she took his arm.

 “Let me show you what we’ve got. I made some of these myself. See this one here? Just smell that pine. What’s Christmas without a wreath on the door?”

 He knew when he was outgunned. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”

 “You bet,” she said with a laugh and selected a wreath. “This one goes so well with your tree.”

 She talked him into the wreath, three windowsill-size poinsettias, and the cactus. He looked bemused and a little dazed as she rang it all up and boxed his purchases.

 And when he left, Hayley knew what she wanted to know.

 She dashed into Stella’s office.

 “Mitch Carnegie’s not seeing anybody.”

 “Was he recently blinded?”

 “Come on, Stella, you know what I mean. He doesn’t have a sweetie.” She drew off her cap, raked her fingers through her oak-brown hair she was wearing long enough to pull back into a stubby tail.