“Thanks, I even put good, matching undies on, and they’re stockings. I must have known something.”
Once Rosie had left, Steph opened the card on the roses.
Stephanie,
Thank you for a wonderful day on Saturday.
I was only sorry that it ended.
Jon
She smiledas she read the card, assuming Charlie or Lindsay had told him where she worked, or had she mentioned her company at the wedding. She wasn’t sure as she moved onto the next one.
Apologies Stephanie,
Roses were such an obvious choice, predictable,
unlike you. Maybe these are more suitable, they
reminded me of you in your dress on Saturday.
Jon
She turnedthe card over and felt a stab of disappointment that his number wasn’t on it. How could she thank him? Was that what she wanted to do? To call him and say thank you? Of course not. She wanted to call him and let him convince her to meet him and then to be seduced by him. She wanted him to strip her bare, to spread her legs and touch her everywhere, like he’d offered on Saturday, like she’d wanted him to then and like she had wanted him to do every second since, to the point that she had dreamt about it, several times. Maybe she would catch up with him via Charlie when he returned from honeymoon.
Her phone rang again making her jump and she could see it was Rosie. “I have a gentleman on the line on behalf of UK Floral Services for Scent with Love,” she explained.
Steph wondered why the florists were calling her, she knew both arrangements from Jon had come from Scent with Love, but who were UK Floral Services?
“Put him through,” she said.
She heard the call come through and for no reason she knew, immediately went into business mode despite the flowers she had received being anything but. “Stephanie Pryor, Head of New Business.”
She recognised his laugh and then his voice.
“You sound very intimidating in your day life. I bet that photographer still doesn’t realise what a lucky escape he had giving you orders on Saturday.”
She laughed at the memory. “Or how close he came to getting hit.”
Jon laughed now, then nothing.
“Thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely.”
“You are very welcome, which did you prefer?”
“The hand tied ones, like my dress,” she admitted, without hesitation.
“I knew it. I have to confess that the roses were from me but chosen by my assistant and then I decided that I should send something more personal.”
Neither of them said anything for a few seconds until she said, “I was sorry that Saturday ended, but I meant what I said about being a fling or a one-night-stand.”
“You were right, you deserve better than that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend. Still can’t.”
“Me too,” she admitted, knowing this was dangerous, the conversation and the man.
“Maybe we should meet and talk,” he suggested.
“I don’t know,” she replied hesitantly, hoping he’d try to convince her.
