“Hey Sugarplum Fairy!” Ivy waved me over. “The Whittier kids want a picture.”
I left him mooning over Ivy and went to sit in a chair by the white display tree. I smiled for pictures with a trio of young siblings. The oldest, the only girl, stood by my side. She was currently rolling her eyes at her youngest brother who was unhappy that there were no ‘sugarplums’ out today.
“If you want sugarplums,” I told the children, “go right next door to my friend Candice’s shop. She makes cakepops in every color and flavor you can imagine.”
“She does?” The middle child, I’d estimated him to be about five, leaned in.
The youngest boy, a blue-eyed heartbreaker sat in my lap. “Does she have cookies?” he asked.
“She was making gingerbread men this morning,” I said, and watched their faces light up.
“Mama, can we go to the bakery?” the girl asked.
The children’s mother finished filling out her email information. “Gingerbread does sound good,” she agreed.
Ivy handed the mother a claim number for the photos. “Check the website tonight for the pictures, Mrs. Whittier,” she said.
The jingle bells on the wreath chimed as the door opened, and Charlie and Matthew entered the flower shop. I stood, and had the supreme satisfaction of watching the man’s jaw hit the floor.
Ivy nudged me with an elbow. “Told ya.” She aimed her camera at him, and clicked. “I’ll email you a copy of that one,” she said under her breath.
Charlie skipped over. “Hi Ivy!” She giggled as Ivy pointed the lens down and took a few quick pictures of her.
“Gotcha.” Ivy lowered her camera, and her silver pentagram necklace caught the light. She stuck out a hand to Matthew. “Hello, Professor Bell, I’m Ivy Bishop.”
Matthew glanced down at the pendant, and grinned at the sweatshirt. “Charmed.” He shook her hand.
“Hi Violet!” Charlie raced to my side and grabbed my fingers.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey kiddo,” I said.
“You’re so pretty today!” Charlie swung my hand back and forth. “Isn’t Violet pretty, Daddy?”
“Hello, Matthew.” I nodded politely.
“Violet.” He cleared his throat. “We dropped by to pick up a poinsettia for the house.”
“We have plenty,” I said casually, and did my best not to sound smug over his reaction to seeing me. “What color were you wanting?”
“Color?”
“Of poinsettia?” I reminded him.
Matthew scanned the shop. “White would be nice.”
Of course he’d go for white, I thought. Goddess forbid the man put something with color into his life.
Taking his cue from the conversation, Eddie walked over and handed Matthew a potted poinsettia with gold foil around the pot. “How’s this one?” he asked.
“That’s fine.” Matthew nodded and followed Eddie to the check out counter.
“You have a purple rose!” Charlie’s comment had me glancing down. “It’s purple, like your hair.”
“Roses can be purple?” The oldest of the Whittier trio asked.
While Matthew paid for his purchase, I walked Charlie and the children over across the sales floor and pointed out the bucket of silvery-lavender colored Ocean Song roses that were in the cooler.
“Hey kids,” Ivy called out. “Why don’t we all go over to the bakery and see what cookies Candice has conjured up today?”
The trio of siblings cheered and Charlie looked to her father. “Can I go too, Daddy?”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Ivy volunteered. “We’ll only be gone for a few minutes.”
“I’ll help.” Eddie finished slipping a plastic sleeve over the plant and handed it to Matthew. Before I could blink my brother had zipped over to stand at Ivy’s side.
Matthew gave his permission, and Ivy took Charlie firmly by the hand. Eddie held the door open and herded the Whittiers out the door and their happy chatter faded away. Which left me alone in the shop with Matthew.
Matthew stayed by the front counter and I remained by the cooler. Neither of us said a word, even as he continued to stand there and stare.
I propped my hands on my hips. “Why are you really here, Matthew?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
An expression came over his face. One that I recognized from years before, and it had me literally bracing for impact. Without a word he walked over, yanked me into his arms and kissed me. Not a chaste kiss. A hot, open-mouthed kiss that swooped in and claimed my lips and tongue, and had my head spinning. Just like old times.
With a muffled groan, I kissed him back. In the past, whenever he’d put his hands on me, any good sense or inhibitions I’d had would fly right out the window. But maybe it shouldn’t have, some sane part of me realized. When his hands roamed down over my backside, I snapped out of his sensual spell. “Stop, stop,” I said, pulling free.
Matthew slid his hands from my hips and eased back slightly. “I knew it.”
“What?” I whispered as his eyes searched mine.
“The passion.” His voice was low, his breathing a little ragged. “It’s still there.”
Angry at myself for my instantaneous response to his kiss, I pushed him away. “First you throw me out of your house, and now you show up to my shop a week and a half later and kiss me? You’ve got some nerve.”
“I wanted to see you again,” he said softly.
“We’re in the middle of my shop for goddess sake!” I snapped. “A customer could have walked in. Your daughter could have walked in!” I stomped to the central table, snatched up a mirrored tray and checked my face. Lipstick was all over my chin. Mortified, I tried to wipe it off with my fingers.
“Use this.” A snowy white handkerchief was waved in my direction.
I snatched the linen square away from Matthew and tried to wipe up the smeared lipstick. When he stepped closer, I held up a hand. “Back off.”
He stepped cautiously forward against my warning. “I want you, and I know you still want me.” He trailed a fingertip over my lace covered shoulder.
I shuddered. “Wanting you was never the problem.”
“Then there’s no problem at all.” His quiet words hit me like a ton
