Page 24 of Craving Her Christmas Boss

‘It’s for a friend right here in Edinburgh.’

‘Well, I hope he likes it.’

‘I’m sureshewill.’

Deliberately, slowly, he brushed his fingers are crossed hers as he took the ribbon wrapped plant. She flinched. She flushed. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

Only just did he quell the urge to vault the table and hauled her close. Heneededto touch her—to find out what she was feeling. How could she have gone from begging him to be with her, to freezing with something that looked a lot like fright? It didn’t make sense. He kept his eyes locked on hers, willing, waiting…

Finally, she did it—looked at him properly. Her eyes were big and green, and she was pleading with him again—but for something he didn’t want to see.

‘Don’t, Ryan.’

One more day down. Only ninety-odd to go to get through the three months or so Ryan had remaining here full-time. It wasn’t that impossible task, was it?

Hell, yes. It was incredibly hard—especially when every moment she wasn’t in lockdown mode her mind replayed scenes from that night—the way he’d held her, the way he’d felt. And her body felt them. The memories made her ache to move.

Bing Crosby had been asleep too long, because he was having yet another dream about a white Christmas. Imogen wished she could sleep without dreams—that every night Ryan came to her there.

She looked up at the next customer. It was him again.

Quickly she looked at the present. ‘A child’s fishing net?’

‘Actually, it’s a butterfly net. For my niece. She’s eight.’

She felt him watching her closely, knew she looked paler than usual. ‘Catching butterflies is cruel. What are you going to get her to do? Stick pins in them then kill them?’

‘Catch one, look at it, let it go, maybe it’ll decide it likes it in her garden and it’ll stay.’

‘Then it will damage its wings. You might as well just kill it.’

He sighed. ‘Okay. Let’s make it a fishing net.’

‘Fishing is cruel.’

‘Not with a net, it’s not,’ he said sharply. ‘There are no hooks in the mouth and you can let them go.’

‘I suppose. And even if you do damage it,’ she said bitterly, ‘there are plenty more in the — right?’

‘I’m only interested in one fish,’ he said, bitter right back. ‘But this fish is probably so fickle it’ll soon forget it was ever caught.’

Stung, she looked right at him.Forget? How could she forget that night?

If anything, he looked angrier. ‘Do you always criticise your customers’ purchases?’

‘Only those who make subtle digs while I wrap.’

‘Well, you’re doing a hopeless job of wrapping it. Anyone could guess what it is.’

‘Hide it behind some other present.’

‘That’s a cop-out. I expected more from you.’

‘You know I can’t give it.’

‘More likewon’t.’

‘All right, then—won’t.’

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