Chapter Ten
As the cab stopped to let her out in front of the door to her shop, Daisy looked up at the red neon sign. Highland Floral was all hers, and she was damn proud of it. Good thing it earned her a nice income, because she’d just gotten the repair estimate on her Mercedes and it wasn’t pretty.
Not only would the car be in the shop until next week but she’d have to pay a small fortune to get it fixed. She didn’t know which was costing her more, the Mercedes or the city’s exorbitant taxi fares.
She paid the driver, then hefted her purse and leather briefcase over her shoulder. Both bags matched the snug red sheath and sweater she’d worn, and the coordinating red and gold earrings and necklace capped off the outfit nicely.
Morning sounds of the greatest city on earth came to her. Horns blaring. People shuffling past on their way to work. Food vendors rolling their silver carts into place for the day. She paused before entering the shop. It had been hard work and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears getting her business to where it was now. She only wished her parents had lived to see her accomplishments.
Every time she thought of the train derailment that had claimed their lives, utter sadness enveloped her. At least the desolation she’d experienced then had diminished to a dull, occasional ache. It had taken two years to get to the point where she didn’t cry every morning, and another ten years after that to stop hating her grandparents. And now they were dead, too. From old age.
Daisy pushed open the door to her shop, surprised at the unexpected resurgence of anger over the callous way her grandparents had treated her. She realized Dom was the reason for her mood. She’d once hoped he would be the one to love her and help her pick up the pieces of her shattered family life. Maybe even be the father of her children. But he never would be. Like her grandparents, he’d thrown her away like trash.
“Morning, Daisy.” Marjie, her fifty-something assistant, waved to her from the display room counter where she sat slicing thorns off a bucket of red long-stem roses.
“Hey, Marj.” She waved back, smiling. Marjie Evans had been with her since she’d opened the shop, and Daisy was proud of her ability to retain employees. It was a sign of a good, stable work environment. “Jack here?” she asked, eager and yet apprehensive to see him. She still wasn’t fully on board with the idea of dating him.
“He’s in the back, loading urns for the Piazza.” Marjie indicated with the floral knife in her hand to the back of the shop. “He knows how swamped we are with all the extra deliveries lately, so he got in early. He brought you coffee,” she added with a wink and a knowing smile. “I think he’s sweet on you.”
Daisy froze, not completely sure whether Marjie’s observations made her feel happy or anxious.
Give him a chance.
“We have a date tomorrow night,” she admitted, still not sure how she felt about having accepted Jack’s offer.
A bright smile lit Marjie’s face. “It’s about time. You haven’t been on a date in quite a while. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
“Thanks.” She nodded and smiled at her assistant. It was about time.
She headed to her office, inhaling that flowery mix that made all floral shops smell unique. After setting her bags on the desk, she sat in her rolling chair and stared at the deli cup of French roast coffee waiting for her. It reminded her of that morning so long ago, after she’d woken up in her bed. Alone, praying that Dom had only gone out to get coffee and bagels for breakfast.
You were foolish then, and you’re foolish now. Time to move on.
Uttering a sigh, she pulled out the Piazza drawings she’d shown Alex the other night. Unfortunately that, too, reminded her of Dom. Watching him teach Nicky multiplication tables by using bullets had been amusing, but it was also clear that Nicky loved Dom as if he really were the boy’s uncle. He was good with kids. Just not with her.
She took a sip of coffee, then spread out the drawings. After making pencil notations for placement of the giant flower urns in the grand ballroom, she realized she’d have to go with Jack to the Piazza to verify the layout herself.
Flipping to another schematic of the Piazza’s grand ballroom, she yawned. After Dom had left her apartment, sleep had been slow in coming. She’d lain awake for hours, her lips still bruised from his kisses, her body heated as if his skilled fingers were again skimming across her bare skin.
She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
Loud thumping sounded from the open bay door as Jack loaded the heavy urns onto the delivery truck. Then she heard him talking to someone, and his tone was far from friendly. She got up and headed to the loading door. Jack stood next to the truck, talking to another man on the sidewalk. Beside them were several large flower urns. She hung back just inside the door to listen and watch.
“I told you not to come here.” Jack’s body was tense, his fists clenched as if he were about to slug the other man.
The guy was shorter than Jack and lanky, with thinning brown hair. Like Jack, he wore jeans and a work shirt tucked into his pants. Over his left breast pocket was an embroidered Magellan Foods patch. Magellan was one of several food service companies that supplied the Piazza.
“I’ll do whatever I think is best,” the stranger growled in a low voice. “And I don’t answer to you, either.”
Jack must have sensed her presence because he jerked his head around, locking his angry gaze onto her for a brief instant before turning back to the other man. “Stay out of my way,” he hissed.
Curious, Daisy stepped down onto the sidewalk.
“Morning, boss,” Jack said with an easy smile, though his posture was stiff and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
“Good morning. Is everything okay?” She glanced from Jack to the other man. Jack might have smiled at her, but from the tension on his face it had obviously been forced.
Up close, the other man appeared rather ordinary, but there was nothing ordinary about the intent way he looked at her. No, make that tracked her. Every feminine instinct she possessed told her this man was a predator.
His brown eyes held a hint of meanness that screamed so loudly he might as well have been wearing a sign. His gaze slid from her face to her chest before slithering down her entire body. When he raised his gaze to meet hers his half smile was smarmy, making her feel as if he were imagining her naked.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He held out his hand. “I’m a friend of Jack’s.”
Before she could react, Jack insinuated himself between them. “You said you were leaving.” His tone was laced with challenge.
Daisy couldn’t see Jack’s face but sensed the barely contained anger radiating from his body.
“I did, didn’t I?” The man gave Daisy a mock bow. “Another time then, ma’am.”
“Don’t count on it,” Jack said under his breath as the guy turned and disappeared around the corner.
“Who was that?” She looked at Jack with raised brows. Whoever it was, Jack clearly hadn’t been pleased by his presence and, frankly, neither was she. He gave her the creeps.
“Nobody important,” he snapped in such a harsh tone that she instinctively took a step back.
Daisy raised her brows. What the—
Then he smiled at her as if everything was fine and began loading more urns into the truck. She didn’t know quite what to make of his abrupt change in demeanor, but was quickly distracted.
Jack’s shirtsleeves were rolled midway up his forearms, exposing thick, ropy muscle that flexed and bunched as he wrestled with the heavy pottery. He really did have a nice body.
“If I haven’t mentioned it,” he said as he hefted another urn onto his shoulder, “wear a dress tomorrow. I’m taking you someplace nice.” Then he grinned at her.
She stepped out of his way as he loaded the urn onto the truck. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” He wiped his brow. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Can’t you give me a hint?” She laid her hand on one of his thick forearms and looked up at him, batting her lashes playfully. His skin was warm from exertion, and the muscle beneath was rock solid.
When he took her hand from his arm and linked his fingers with hers, she found the feeling was rather pleasant.
“I think I’ll keep you in suspense. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“All right.” She uttered a sigh. “Have it your way. But you’re stuck with me for the rest of the day.”
“What do you mean?” His eyes went sharp.
“I’m going with you to the Piazza.” She pulled away, intending to go inside to grab her things, but he tugged her back to him.
“You don’t need to go today, do you? The forecast is calling for rain.” He glanced up at the graying sky. “As soon as the first drop hits the pavement, the streets will jam up and you’ll be stuck in traffic with me for half the day.”
She patted his arm. “There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck in traffic with. Besides, I haven’t walked through the grand ballroom since all the furniture was put in place, and I need to verify the vases and arrangements I designed will still work. I just need to get my drawings.”
As she headed back inside, she glanced over her shoulder to find him staring after her. His brows were drawn and his forehead creased, leaving her with the odd impression that he didn’t want her with him today.
After grabbing her bags from her desk, along with the coffee he’d so thoughtfully gotten her, she headed to the front of the shop. “I’ll be at the Piazza with Jack,” she informed Marjie. “I should be back in a few hours.”
“Ooh, a road trip. With Jack,” Marjie teased. “Have fun, boss.”
“Very funny.” She went back into the hallway where Jack was waiting for her. “Let’s go.”
He followed her to the passenger side of the truck. “Today’s really not a good day to go to the hotel. When I was there yesterday dropping off all those bromeliads and ficus trees, the place was still a mess. Workers were doing last-minute sanding and the air was thick with dust.” He caught her arm as she reached for the door latch. “Why don’t I take you there tomorrow instead?”
Releasing the door latch, she turned to face him. She could have imagined it, but the look in his eyes was…wary? Again she was struck with the impression that he didn’t want her at the Piazza today. Why that could possibly be, she couldn’t fathom.
“I’ll be fine.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, then pulled open the door. “Could you help me up? It’s tough getting into this truck wearing a dress and high heels.”
When she held out her hand, he took it but frowned. Then his eyes tracked down and up her body, and the corners of his mouth lifted. “Yes, but you do wear them well.”
“Why, thank you.” She smiled back and pulled in her legs, which Jack was also watching. It was nice to be appreciated by a man without him automatically trying to jump her bones.
He came around the front of the truck, then got in and cranked the engine. The truck rumbled and shook as he guided it onto the busy street. For the next few minutes, he said nothing. A muscle at his jaw flexed repeatedly. Something was bugging him, and Daisy intended to find out what.
“Are you going to tell me who that man was today?” she prodded.
“Just an old colleague.” He turned onto Fifth Avenue. “Not someone I’m particularly fond of.”
“No kidding.” She grabbed the door’s side handle as he made a sharp turn to avoid a cab that cut them off. “That guy was creepy.”
At the next red light, he gripped her arm so hard she flinched. “You don’t ever have to worry about him. He won’t be back.” The icy look he gave her sent a brief chill up her spine. Subdued anger simmered in his eyes, although she didn’t sense it was directed at her. “I’ll make sure of it,” he added. When a horn honked behind them, he returned his eyes to the road.
The south end of Central Park came into view, as did the Piazza. Each time Daisy came to this majestic landmark she was more in awe than the last. The hotel was truly magnificent.
Situated at Central Park and Fifth Avenue, New York’s finest hotel had recently undergone a four hundred million-dollar renovation from top to bottom. With its classical architecture, it was a tribute to the history of New York City and embodied all the elegance expected of a five-star hotel.
Jack parked on the side street next to the hotel and shut off the engine. He hopped out and came around to the passenger side where Daisy had already opened the door. She paused before getting out, glancing up at the nineteen-story structure.
When Jack held out his hand, she hooked her bags over her shoulder and let him help her down. “Thank you,” she said, although her attention was still glued to the grand structure that took up an entire city block.
He shut the door behind her. “I’m not sure if the manager wants me to unload the urns to see how they look in place, or whether he wants to look at them in the back of the truck first.”
“Let’s go inside and track down Andrew.” She led the way to the main entrance, bypassing the magnetometers that wouldn’t be operational until the opening.
A man wearing a classic burgundy doorman’s jacket and black cap held open a large glass door. No sooner had they entered the foyer than she was awed yet again by the hotel’s stately grandeur.
Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, catching the light and sparkling like diamond clusters. Mahogany wall paneling contrasted with the gleaming white marble floors. Through one of the arched doorways was the Rose Club, an elegant venue hosting famed jazz musicians from around the country. With its red velvet drapes and matching red leather chairs, it embodied the classically dark intimacy of a traditional Southern jazz club.
All around them the hotel buzzed with activity. Workers rolled boxes, wooden crates, and supplies in every direction. On one side of the hotel’s main entrance someone was polishing the marble floors, and on the other, two men carefully hung a massive portrait of Fiorella La Guardia, New York City’s ninety-ninth mayor.
“This place is really something.” Jack looked up at the stained-glass ceiling.
“That it is.” She turned in each direction to take it all in, suddenly realizing there was none of the sanding going on that Jack had warned her about. The inside air was fresh and clear. “Guess they’re not sanding today after all.” She looked at him, but his gaze was focused across the lobby on a group of men, including Andrew, wearing dark suits. Very expensive dark suits, if she was correct in her fashion assessment. She’d been around the rich New York City set long enough to recognize a designer label, even in menswear.
One man in particular stood out. Literally. He was tall and fit, with silver hair, and he towered above the others. But it wasn’t just his physical presence that was so eye-catching. It was his overall demeanor. The aura he exuded was one of confidence and power.
Dom exuded those same traits, but in an entirely different way. His mannerisms were protective and heroic. This man’s were arrogant and condescending.
“I think that’s Chris Shane.” One look at Jack told Daisy he’d already noticed the distinguished gentleman. He was staring, fixated on the group of men. “I’ve never met him personally, though.” She’d seen his photo in an article in New York Magazine, detailing the Piazza’s massive renovation. “He’s president and CEO of Fairhaven Hotels and Resorts. This is Shane’s flagship hotel. He footed a good portion of the bill for this renovation out of his own pocket.”
Jack whistled. “Chicken feed.”
“Golden chickens, maybe.” She nodded in agreement. “I read that the luxury suites were retrofit with 24-karat gold-plated sink fixtures.”
He snorted. “I’m just a truck driver. Doubtful I’ll ever be in a position to use a bathroom that cost more than two years of take-home pay.”
“Daisy!” Andrew broke from the group and walked briskly toward her. He hooked his arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hello, Andrew.” She gestured to Jack. “This is my new driver, Jack Schneider.”
The two men shook hands, but Andrew barely looked at Jack and his demeanor was snooty and dismissive.
Andrew really is a snob. Just as Dom said he was.
“I have to apologize,” Andrew said, “but I’m swamped with meetings today. Did we have an appointment? I don’t remember seeing you on my calendar.”
“We didn’t,” she reassured him. “I came to see the ballroom tables to verify my arrangements will be the right size.”
Andrew glanced nervously back to the group of men. “Normally, I’d take you around myself, but Chris Shane is doing a walk-through today and he’s brought all his executive VPs with him. Shane doesn’t normally do walk-throughs, but the Piazza is by far his most elaborate and expensive renovation yet, and he wants to personally inspect the place before the reopening celebration.”
“Don’t worry.” She tapped the rolled-up drawings in her bag. “I can handle this alone. I just need a few minutes in the ballroom with my sketches. Jack brought urn samples for you to choose from. They’re outside in the truck, and I think any one of them will do nicely for those potted palms.”
Hands shaking, Andrew straightened his tie. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to see the urns today. Pick whatever you like. I have complete faith that you’ll make the best selection. Now you’ll have to forgive me, but I really should get back to Shane. Thank you for understanding.” Without waiting for a response, he spun and practically ran back to where Shane stood in the middle of his executive groupies, almost like a king holding court.
As she watched his hasty departure, Daisy giggled. “Talk about flustered. We’ll go with the black urns.” When she turned back to Jack, he was watching her.
“You didn’t have to introduce me.” He smiled. “That guy doesn’t give a shit about any of the people working in this place. To him, they’re all beneath him. But I do appreciate it. That’s one of the things I like about you. You’ve never treated me like a lowly hired hand.”
“That’s because you’re not a lowly hired hand. You’re my driver, and you deserve just as much courtesy and respect as anyone. You—” Someone wheeled a hand truck so close to where they were standing, she had to jump to avoid getting run over. When Jack reached out to steady her, there was something warm and genuine in his gaze.
She swallowed, wishing like hell that when he looked at her that way she felt even half of the crazy, passionate sparks she experienced with Dom.
Maybe it will come with time.
She cleared her throat. “As I was saying, you work for me, but that doesn’t mean you are beneath me.”
He chuckled, rubbing her arm softly. “You are truly a rare gem.”
Daisy laughed with him. “And you are truly a smooth talker.”
“Maybe so, but I meant every word.” He locked gazes with her a moment longer before dropping his hand.
Sharp laughter had both of them turning to watch Shane.
She readjusted the bags on her shoulder. “Look at the way they’re all watching him. It’s as if every word that comes out of his mouth is the word of God.”
“When you have that much money people do whatever you tell them to. And if they don’t, you buy them off.” He continued watching a moment longer. “I need to hit the john. I’ll catch up with you.” He turned abruptly and strode into the lobby in the direction of the restrooms.
Well that was strange.
There’d been a definite hint of resentment in his tone as he’d voiced his hard-bitten opinion of people with money. Shane, to be specific. Could simply be that Jack came from humble roots, whereas the article she’d read painted Shane as someone who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
As she watched Jack’s departure, she noted that he walked slowly and deliberately, subtly turning his head to each side, then up to the left and the right. Almost as if he were scoping out the place.
When he tilted his head to the gilded balcony overlooking the lobby, she followed his gaze. Staring down at them was another man in a dark suit, but this one was different. He was nearly motionless, and when he turned his head she saw a coiled wire running from his ear and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. He looked exactly like those Secret Service agents that protected the president.
Was the president attending the Piazza’s celebration?
Curious, Daisy did a slow three-sixty and counted at least five more of these bodyguard-type guys with the same earpieces stationed around the lobby. She expected the mayor and other local politicians to attend the hotel’s big event, but not the president.
When she searched for Jack again, he was gone. She grabbed her rolled designs from her shoulder bag and took the short stairway down into the ballroom. This room was even more stunning than the lobby.
Freshly polished white marble floors glistened in the romantic light provided by three of the largest crystal-beaded chandeliers Daisy had ever seen. Gold and cream brocade drapes tied off with gold rope tassels lined every wall. Intricate molding decorated the arches that spanned giant fluted columns reaching upward to the vaulted ceiling.
Craning her neck to take it all in, she meandered between the large round dining tables. Each one would eventually be set with sparkling cream china and gleaming silverware, and each had a clear view of the orchestra section and the dais set up at the far end of the room. She imagined there would be many speakers during the celebration. A lot of standing and clapping, and all in high heels. She grimaced at how her feet would be aching by the end of the night.
Unrolling one of her sketches, she verified her arrangements would indeed work with the dining tables. Next she inspected the previously determined locations for the large potted palms. For forty minutes she walked the entire ballroom, making notations on her drawings as she went.
“Everything’s good to go,” she said to no one in particular. Except she still needed a backup driver. Whoever she hired would have to be strong enough to manhandle the heavy urns and not be squeamish about getting his hands dirty.
By the time the dozen or so urns were filled with soil and potted with palm trees and other cycads, they’d weigh far too much for her to be of any assistance. It would take two strong men to get the urns in and out of the truck and then maneuver them into position.
“Time to call the temp agency. Again,” she muttered, rolling up her design. And time to find Jack. There was so much to do and never enough hours in the day.
After one last look around the room she went back to the lobby. Pounding hammers and power drills echoed as contractors affixed new crystal sconces and period oil paintings on the mahogany walls.
At first, Jack was nowhere to be found. Then she caught sight of him on the upper balcony, surveying the lobby. She waved to get his attention, but he didn’t notice. He seemed focused on something in the far corner. She followed his gaze and saw…nothing. At least, nothing that seemed noteworthy.
Hefting her bags over her shoulder, she mounted the gilded stairway to the balcony level and turned left in the direction where Jack was standing. Just as she called out to him someone kicked on a power saw, obliterating her words. When he turned his back to her and rounded a corner out of sight, she hustled after him. They really needed to get back to the shop.
“Ja—” Some other noisy power tool cut her off, so she followed in the direction he’d gone, determined to get back on the road.
Lighting in the partially renovated hallway was dim, with not all of the new sconces attached to the walls yet. A power saw buzzed as she passed an open doorway where contractors were putting the finishing touches on some baseboard molding. The rasping sound of the saw followed her down the hallway where she found Jack peering at a dumb waiter.
What’s the big attraction of a dumb waiter?
There was something about his body language and the way he was looking over the place that struck her as peculiar.
Angled away from her, he rested his hands on the balcony railing and again scanned the lobby below. The only thing of any interest that she could see was the painting Christopher Shane was inspecting.
With his back completely to her now, Jack tilted his face skyward, probably to admire the incredible stained-glass ceiling. Then he looked at the two far ceiling corners. Nothing of interest there. Just a couple of security cameras.
Since she already knew he couldn’t hear her over the saw’s loud screeching, she walked up behind him and touched his arm.
He whipped around and grabbed her wrist, jerking her up on her toes. His other hand clenched into a fist, then reared back. She cringed, certain he was about to slam it into her face. The look in his eyes was…deadly.
Pain shot to her shoulder, and she gasped. Her heart raced, and she struggled in his grip. The bags she’d hooked on her other shoulder began slipping down her arm, and the chop saw shut off just as her bags landed on the bare wood floor with a loud thud.
Jack released her. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Are you all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Gone was the angry look in his eyes. Frown lines creased his forehead.
She backed away, her heart still pounding, readying to dig out the canister of pepper spray from her bag and empty it into his face. “What the hell was that about?”
His brow crinkled with even more concern, his expression one of regret. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
“I can see that.” She’d also seen the brief yet unexpected malevolence burning in his eyes. Until he realized it was only her standing behind him, he’d been about to mash her face in with his big fist.
He cursed again and reached for her arm. She took another step backward, still freaked out by his disturbingly violent reaction. Then again, with the chop saw buzzing, there was no way he would have heard her approach. She might very well have reacted the same way.
The memory of how she’d nearly pepper-sprayed Dom and Gray in Alex’s old apartment a year ago flashed before her eyes.
“Daisy, please don’t pull away.” He reached for her again, and this time she let him massage her wrist with his thumbs and forefingers.
“What are you doing up here?” Her heart rate began to slow.
“I was killing time waiting for you, so I came up here to take a look at the restoration that’s still in progress. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” The latent concern in his eyes and the sincerity of his words made her feel guilty.
“It’s okay.” She smiled, tugging her wrist away and holding it up for inspection. “See? Nothing broken.” Although her skin was dotted with pale red marks where his fingers had grabbed onto her wrist. “Let’s go downstairs. I really do need to get back to the shop.”
She leaned down to grab her bags, then turned to give him a reassuring smile. His face was tight with tension as he looked back at her. “I’m sorry if I overreacted,” she said, hoping to make him feel better.
Without uttering another word, he followed her back down the stairway. When they stepped into the lobby, he turned her gently.
“What can I do to make this up to you? I need to redeem myself so you won’t cancel our date tomorrow. I hope you’re still looking forward to it.” His brows raised in obvious question.
“Of course I am.” I think. “And you have nothing to make up for.”
“You’re not going to fire me?” He grinned sheepishly.
“Hardly. The shop has never been busier, and I need you now more than ever. With all your trips to the hotel you can barely keep up with the other local deliveries as it is.” Again she was struck with her desperate need for another driver.
“Then let me help you with that,” Jack said. “I have a friend who could use a little extra income right now. I’ll bring him around the shop.”
“Sure. Why not?” If Jack vouched for someone, she’d hire him.
They headed to the hotel exit and out into the fresh spring air. She felt downright hopeful. Tomorrow night she had her first date with Jack. That was what she needed to concentrate on. That, and what she should wear.
Unfortunately, thoughts of clothing had her thinking back to last night when Dom had managed—in the span of three minutes—to come a hair’s breadth from getting her completely out of her clothes.
Damn, damn, damn him to hell and back.
No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. But she had to, because Dominick Carew would always be a pig. One she was better off without in her life.