The Secret Seduction

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“You can’t be serious,” Lily groaned, not sure when she had ever felt so shocked and embarrassed, as Carson McRue and his assistant exchanged astonished looks.

Heart racing, she pushed her hands against Fletcher’s chest—for all the good it did her. Fletcher swept her off her feet and cradled against his chest. The assistant held the door for him and Fletcher carried Lily down the steps. While everyone looked on with unbridled interest—including the townspeople gathered to watch the action, cast, and crew, directors and producers— Fletcher paused in the middle of the roped-off area. Still holding her cradled in his arms, he slowly, ardently lowered his head to hers.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Lily warned.

Chapter Three

But of course Fletcher did, and when the kiss came, it was just as masterful, just as dangerously uninhibited and exciting as before. Lily moaned in a combination of fury and dismay, luxuriating in the feel of his lips on hers. For the first time in her life, she was with a man who wasn’t afraid to give her the unrestrained passion she craved, and she reveled in the hard, insistent demand of his mouth on hers, the erotic sweep of his tongue, the way he brought his hands up and tunneled his fingers through her hair.

Lily told herself to resist him. She couldn’t let him think he could do this to her again, kiss her just to put on a show, but there was just something about the way he held her and kissed her that totally destroyed her will. He was just so warm and strong and male, so demanding and yet so giving, too. Despite herself, Lily felt herself melt against him. She had never felt so much a woman nor been as aware of any man.

Her nipples were tightening almost painfully beneath her dress. Lower still, there was a definite pressure building, a weakness in her knees. The need, the desire, to take this somewhere quiet, somewhere private, spiraled through her body. But that was crazy, she reminded herself firmly. It wasn’t as if she and Fletcher were in love, or could ever be that attached to each other—not with him as deeply cynical and domineering as he was. And she wasn’t the kind of woman who would ever react this passionately out of pure physical need, never mind in front of a crowd of onlookers. But with Fletcher Hart holding her against him and kissing her as if she was already his, that was exactly what she was doing.

With effort, Lily pulled herself together and put on the brakes. And it was only then when she had come treacherously close to surrendering to him completely that Fletcher let the tempestuous kiss come to a halt.

Lily told herself she should be furious. But as he released her, heat suffused her and excitement—unlike anything she had ever felt—roared through her. Dimly, she became aware of two things. One, the larger-than-life romance she had been looking for had somehow found her when she least expected it. Not in Beverly Hills or on a private Learjet, but in her hometown of Holly Springs. And two, people were clapping! Hooting and hollering, encouraging Fletcher to take her in his arms and kiss her again. And darned if the son-of-a-gun didn’t look tempted.

“You are unbelievable,” Lily fumed.

“Yeah, I know.” Fletcher tipped the brim of his straw cowboy hat in her direction and grinned at her unrepentantly. “You can thank me later,” he promised.

“Thank you?” Lily echoed, all the more incensed.

He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. “For helping you win your bet.”

Lily blinked, and leaned back, fearful that if their bodies touched they would end up kissing again. “What?” Mirroring him, she pretended an insouciance she couldn’t begin to feel.

Fletcher acted as if he were imparting top secret information, of the men-only variety. “Men like competition, Lily. I figured if Mr. Magoo—”

“McRue,” Lily corrected, noting thankfully that if Carson had witnessed any of what had just gone on, he had since disappeared.

“Whatever,” Fletcher continued with a disinterested wave of his hand. “Just that if he saw you kissing me right out in the open like that it might spur him on to try and stake his claim.”

Lily glared at Fletcher, wishing she weren’t still tingling everywhere he’d touched her…and even more tellingly, everywhere he hadn’t. “Is that what you were doing?” she demanded in raging disbelief.

“Yup. Thought it would inspire him to start trying to woo you into accepting a date with him.”

Lily blew out an exasperated breath and raked her hands through her hair, trying to restore order to the curls Fletcher had mussed with his fingertips. “Carson McRue does not have to woo me.”

Fletcher looked incensed. “Well, he should,” he counseled her sternly. “Lily. For heaven’s sake! You can’t just give it away.”

She was going to slug him. She really was. She didn’t care who was looking on. Holding on to her temper by a thread, she pushed the words through her teeth. “I am not giving anything away.”

Fletcher nodded with mocking approval. “That’s good. Play hard to get,” he encouraged her baldly. “It works with me.”

“And just so you know,” Lily continued with a regal toss of her head, “Carson did not need your help getting motivated where I’m concerned. He’s already asked me for a date.”

For once, Fletcher didn’t have a ready comeback. In fact he was silent for so long Lily almost convinced herself he cared whom she went out with.

“When?” Fletcher asked finally in a low, too casual tone.

“Tomorrow evening.” Lily smiled at him smugly, glad to see that she at last had the upper hand.

Fletcher seemed to consider that. “Where?”

Lily felt her nerves tighten at the ornery look in his eyes. “None of your business.”

Fletcher nodded, looking grim and almost brooding again. “You’re right,” he said. “It isn’t.”

That couldn’t be disappointment she felt, could it? Lily wondered as silence fell between them once again.

“If you don’t care what I do,” she reasoned slowly, searching his face for some clue, “then why did you come over here and cut short my conversation with Carson like that?” Why had he carried her off and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. Lily was sure it hadn’t been just to create a scene.

Fletcher shrugged his broad shoulders, stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Because I thought you might like to say goodbye to N. L. Spartacus,” he said.

Once again, they were in completely unexpected territory. “Goodbye?” Lily echoed, nonplussed.

Fletcher lifted his left wrist and glanced at his watch. “The guy from the shelter’s going to be by anytime now to pick him up.” That said, Fletcher turned on his heel and began walking in the direction of the clinic.

“You’re kidding.” Lily rushed to catch up with Fletcher.

Fletcher said nothing and continued walking, all the way into his clinic. Since office hours weren’t set to begin yet, the only person there was his receptionist office manager. She flashed a wan smile, seeming to think the same Lily did about Fletcher’s actions.

“I can’t believe you are really doing this,” Lily said.

Fletcher looked all the more determined as he went through a stack of phone messages the receptionist handed him. “Spartacus needs a home and a family who’ll love him. The shelter is his best shot for getting adopted.”

“And if he doesn’t, then what?” Lily demanded, nearly in tears as she rushed into the room where Spartacus was being kept.

The big yellow lab was lying on his side in the cage, but when he saw them he lifted his head.

His expression turning almost tender it was so compassionate, Fletcher opened the door and motioned the dog out.

Spartacus lumbered slowly to his feet, stretched, then—as if sensing this to-do was all about him—sat abruptly back on his haunches and stared at them stoically, refusing to come out of the cage. And Lily couldn’t blame the poor sweet dog, given what Fletcher had in store for him.

“Look—” Fletcher gestured toward Spartacus like a particularly disinterested salesperson “—he’s a beautiful animal. Sad but gentle natured.”

That, Lily knew, might not save Spartacus from an unwarranted end. “He could get put to sleep!”

Fletcher turned his glance away and didn’t respond, reminding Lily that was all part of his job. “Do you want to say goodbye or not?” he demanded harshly, the distant brooding look back in his eyes.

Like clockwork, the shelter guy strode into the reception area, leash in hand. Lily’s heart slammed against her ribs and her breath caught in her throat. Numb no longer, she stepped between Spartacus and the two men, stated fiercely, “I am not going to let you do this!”

As if sensing he finally had a savior worth his attentions, Spartacus finally lumbered out of his cage and stood looking up at Lily with his big sad eyes, his tail down between his legs.

Fletcher frowned and folded his arms in front of his chest. He looked ready to square off, too. “You don’t have anything to say about it.”

“Yes, I do,” Lily shot right back, unable to believe how cruel Fletcher was being. Her heart going out to the poor, grieving animal, Lily knelt beside the far-too-skinny yellow lab and wrapped her arms around Spartacus’s neck. She regarded Fletcher stubbornly. “I’m taking him home with me.”

Fletcher’s brows drew together in accusatory fashion. Unwilling to admit she had offered up a solution, he said, “I thought you didn’t want a dog.”

“I don’t,” Lily insisted as Spartacus trembled in her arms, his short, dense coat surprisingly soft and silky beneath her hands. He’d had a bath recently, and he smelled of fragrant dog shampoo. “But a lot of people who come into Madsen’s Flower Shoppe do. I’ll put up a sign. Heck—” she rose gracefully, tilting her head back determinedly, prepared to go toe to toe with Fletcher once again “—I’ll take him to work with me and I’ll find him a good home with no help at all from you!”

LILY HAD PLENTY of time to regret her actions as she walked the still-somewhat-wobbly-legged N. L. Spartacus across the town square. Her reservations were echoed by her three very talented part-time florists. Mothers all, they juggled family, home and work responsibilities and were grateful for the flexible hours Lily allowed them. “What are you doing with a dog?” Maryellen asked.

“Finding him a home.” Briefly, Lily explained, as she got out the digital camera she used for taking photographs of floral arrangements and took a close-up of his handsome face. “The problem is I don’t know anything about taking care of a dog.”

“Well, don’t look at me,” the bespectacled Maryellen said as Lily hooked her camera into her computer and printed out the photo while her staff continued to gather round her.

Belinda held up hands made plump by her latest pregnancy. “I’ve only let the kids get hamsters.”

Sheila ran a hand across her perpetually sunburned cheeks. “My expertise is limited to our parakeets.”

“Does he even know how to ‘stay’?” Maryellen asked as she bent to tentatively pet Spartacus’s white-blond head.

Lily had no idea. “I guess I’ll find out,” she said, getting out what she needed to make up the poster that would find the orphaned pet a new home.

As it happened, she needn’t have worried. Spartacus never let her leave his sight. In fact, he was so hyper-vigilant about where she was and what she was doing, Lily was starting to get a little worried, as she taped a sign in the window of Madsen’s Flower Shoppe. It said Wanted—Loving Home For 3-Year-Old Yellow Lab. She had taped a digital photograph of Spartacus beneath it and wrote Ask Inside….

As Lily had hoped, it wasn’t long before she had drummed up some interest. A young mother with two elementary-school-age children walked in. They spotted Spartacus sitting tensely beside Lily and headed for him eagerly.

The woman bent down to inspect him. “Is this him?”

Lily smiled. “It sure is.”

“What’s her name?”

“It’s a he. And it’s Spartacus.” N. L. Spartacus…

The little boy pulled on his mommy’s arm. “How come he’s not wagging his tail?”

The woman frowned. “He doesn’t look very happy. We had in mind something a little more…exuberant.”

Lily nodded, understanding the woman’s feelings, even as her feelings of protectiveness toward the dog increased tenfold. “He’s had a rough time,” she stated quietly.

As if on cue, Spartacus moved closer to Lily.

“Well, I wish you luck in finding him a home,” the woman said, gathering her kids close and backing toward the door.

The same scenario was repeated throughout the morning. People came in. Spartacus pretty much ignored them all. Even going so far a few times as to turn his head completely away.

“I wonder how hard it is to teach a dog social skills,” Maryellen murmured as she put a finished arrangement awaiting pickup into the refrigerator, and then stepped to the front of the shop to check on the progress of the filming on the other side of the square.

“I thought it was kind of automatic for canines to wag their tails and look happy,” Belinda said, joining Maryellen at the picture window, her attention also fixated on the TV show scene unfolding before them.

“Me, too,” Sheila murmured as the four of them gathered to watch Carson McRue step before the cameras. Someone called “Action!” on a bullhorn and he began conversing with the actor in front of him. The exchange wasn’t long. The director nodded his approval. Seconds later, Carson disappeared into his trailer once again.

“Somehow I thought it would be more exciting,” Maryellen murmured.

No kidding, Lily thought. She had expected to be riveted when Carson McRue hit town. After all, the handsome, charismatic actor had been a favorite of hers for years. She had watched him turn from a teen heart-throb and player of bit parts into an occasional film actor and the star of his own TV show. But she found he couldn’t hold a candle to the other man currently figuring prominently in her life—Fletcher Hart.

And speak of the devil…

Lily turned away from the picture window, hoping he hadn’t seen her. “I’ll be in the back,” she said, beating a hasty retreat to her private office. She had end-of-August bills to be paid, biweekly paychecks to issue.

Spartacus was right beside her.

Seconds later, the bell over the front door rang, and Lily felt as well as heard Fletcher stride in, the atmosphere in her century-old shop changing that much.