Page 29 of Mr. Scandalous

Eden depressed the switch hook with her index finger but didn’t hang up the phone. For the longest time she simply stood staring at the receiver.

Do what you secretly yearn to do. You want him and he wants you. What’s wrong with that?

What choice did she have? Her creativity had disappeared like smoke up a flue the minute she was separated from Alec. If she hoped to salvage the Spice-Up-Your-Love-Life account she knew what she must do, stomach butterflies or not.

Gently fondling the worry stone, she rehearsed the speech in her head. This good girl was determined to go bad in a very splashy way.

Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge and punched in Alec’s phone number.

“Sex and the Single Guy,” said a clipped, professional male voice.

“May I speak with Alec Ramsey?” Eden asked, amazed at how peaceful she felt once she’d made her decision.

“Whom may I say is calling?”

“Eden Montgomery.”

“And this is regarding...?”

“An order Mr. Ramsey placed with me.”

“Oh,” the assistant said. “You’re her. The gift basket woman.”

“Yes, that would be me.”

“Alec is in a meeting, but he wouldn’t want to miss your call.” The person put her on hold and Eden waited, surprised to find herself growing bolder by the minute. Maybe there was something magical about that worry stone. She was already feeling more imaginative, more inspired as she thought how this would play out.

“Eden!” Alec’s breathless voice spilled into her ear. “Did you get my gift?”

“Yes,” she purred, determined to sound as sexy as possible. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Silence descended, but only for a moment. If she hesitated, Eden feared her courage would disappear and she’d back out.

Can’t back out. You need him to save the Spice-Up-Your-Love-Life account.

She grabbed the bull by the horns. “Alec,” she said, “I have a rather indecent proposal.”

ChapterEight

Here’s my list of stipulations,”Eden said, thrilled that she was bold enough to demand what she wanted.

Alec had eagerly agreed to meet her in Central Park at noon. The sky was flat and gray, a harbinger of autumn, but Central Park itself was alive with summer color, the grass a rich, country-club green, hard to believe within a month, the trees would be waving red and gold leaves.

They were seated side by side on a bench while joggers sprinted by. Mothers and nannies pushed strollers. Pigeons strutted, bobbing their heads in search of dropped food. The autumn panorama was breathtaking, but not nearly as breathtaking as the man sitting beside her.

He gave her an endearing, lopsided grin. “A list of stipulations?”

“Well, not an actual physical, written-down list,” she said. “It’s all in my head.”

“Okay then.” He draped an arm across the bench behind her. “Let’s hear it.”

Eden cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his bemused gaze. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

“Stop grinning.”

---