Sweet Cheeks (Sweet Enough To Eat)

He takes one look at me and his eyes go wide with panic. His feet skid to a stop and he looks terrified as he turns back.

“We’ll just be a minute,” I tell him as he hurries back to the door.

“That’s fine!” he shouts as he yanks the front door open. “Park wherever you’d like!”

He disappears inside and my dad looks at me with a shrug.

“That was weird,” I say, looking at him funny.

My dad just gets back to work and collects all of the flowers, handing me three of the six dozen.

“This place is nice,” he says when we head inside. My security guard friend is nowhere to be seen.

We head up the elevators with the flowers and I’m all quick breaths and sweaty palms when we arrive on the forty-second floor.

“Oh, you got to be kidding me,” the receptionist says, looking more annoyed than ever. “Who’s that for?”

I guess she didn’t order it for herself.

“That’s for Mr. London,” Mrs. Graham says as she appears out of nowhere. “This way please.”

She starts grinning as she checks out the flowers on our way back to her desk.

“Mrs. London is a lucky lady,” I say as my heart sinks.

“There is no Mrs. London,” she whispers to me. “I thought he was single, but I guess he’s met someone.”

“Lucky girl,” I whisper to myself. It’s not loud enough for her to hear.

“Let’s just bring them into his office.”

I try to sneak a peek into the window like I did before, but his blinds are down. My stomach churns nervously. What if she’s inside?

A part of me wants to see what kind of classy broad can snatch up a guy like him, but a bigger part of me doesn’t want to see. I don’t want to have my heart twisted up like a dog’s chew toy. No thank you.

She picks up the phone and calls him. “Mr. London, your flowers are here.”

“Come in.” I hear the faint sound of his voice answering, but even from here I can feel the power and authority in it.

I’m shivering with nervous excitement as she opens the door and we step inside. His office is gorgeous. Thick expensive wood, real oil paintings, furniture that is pure luxury, and a view of Manhattan that belongs on a postcard.

But my darting eyes quickly settle on him.

Mr. London is sitting behind his desk with his dark brown eyes fixated on me. He doesn’t look away, even when he answers Mrs. Graham when she asks him where he would like the red roses.

“Put them on my desk,” he says in a low gravelly voice that sends shivers tingling through me.

I walk forward with a tremble in my step, completely aware that his eyes haven’t left me yet.

I keep darting shy nervous glances at him and swallowing hard every time I see him still staring.

God, he’s even hotter up close. Even my dad does a double-take when he sees him.

Mr. London’s muscular arms are swelling out against the expensive suit jacket he’s wearing and the top of his shirt is unbuttoned, showing off his sexy chest. My fingertips start tingling as I think about what it would be like to run them down his chest and over his stomach, which I can just tell is sculpted. I can’t see it with his shirt and the desk in the way, but I can tell. He’s just hard all over and I don’t think it stops there.

His eyes are still on me as my dad starts taking the flowers out of the paper and making a big fuss over the order.

“They’re beautiful flowers,” he says, rambling on. “The best. I sent you the best. I even threw in an extra six. Just as a thank you for your order.”

Mr. London doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even seem to be listening.

His eyes are focused intensely on me and it’s making me all flustered. I drop four roses on the ground and then start blushing wildly as I quickly pick them up.

“They are gorgeous,” my dad says as he holds up a rose and twirls it in his fingers. He’s inspecting the petals and marveling at them like he hasn’t seen a gazillion flowers every single day for the past thirty years. “Your wife is going to be a very happy lady.”

“I’m not married,” he says in a deep commanding voice.

“Oh,” my dad says as he puts the rose back. “Girlfriend then.”

He shakes his head. “Try again.”

“Boyfriend?”

His eyes slowly move off me onto my dad and I feel like I can breathe again. “No,” he says sharply. “They’re for the girl I have my eye on. The girl I’m going to make mine.”

“Well,” my dad says as he opens the last dozen and pulls them out. “I hope she says yes. With these flowers, I can’t see how she won’t.”

Mr. London’s fierce eyes turn back to me and I gulp. “Will you?” he asks me.

My back straightens and I stare at him with wide eyes. “Me?”

He slowly nods as he stares at me with a dark possessive gaze.

“Will I w-what?”

“Will you say yes?”

He just stares at me as he waits for my answer. I’m not even sure what he’s asking. I must have missed some words in there, a phrase, a sentence, something… I’m not sure what’s happening right now. His dark eyes are locked on me and I can’t seem to think straight. I take a deep breath and run my sweaty palms along my jeans, but even that doesn’t help.

“Well, we’ll let you be,” my father says, completely oblivious to what’s going on between us. Whatever is going on. “And please remember Carson Flowers the next time you’re in need of some beauty.”

It’s our company’s motto. I came up with it.

“I’m in need of some beauty right now,” he says as he looks me up and down. “You can go. She stays.”

It’s crazy how this man doesn’t tiptoe around what he wants. He just goes for it. I’m still not sure if what he wants is me. How could it be? He’s this rich powerful alpha of a man and me, well, my socks and running shoes are soaked from riding my bike in February and I have a bad case of helmet hair.

“She has to come back to work,” my father says, looking confused. I guess he’s been single so long that he can’t feel the electricity rippling through the room. He must be immune to it.

Mr. London turns to my dad and leans back in his chair. “I would like to purchase your flower shop. Right now.”

My dad’s eyes light up. I know the bills and all the work has been weighing on my dad lately. He wants out. I already knew that. The shop did us well for years, but now it’s like shackles trapping us to the rundown building. We all want to escape from it.

“Are you in the flower business?” my father asks with a low voice. He’s not moving. He looks like he’s nervous that if he makes a sudden movement, the offer will scurry out the door.

“Dad,” I say to him with a roll of my eyes. “Does he look like he’s in the flower business?”

My father surveys Mr. London’s luxurious office with the insane vie

w of Manhattan behind him and the expensive-looking suit on his hard body. “No,” he says, exhaling long and hard. “He doesn’t.”

“I’m not in the flower business,” he says as he stands.

I swallow hard as my eyes follow him up. He’s enormous. At least a foot taller than me and he looks like he can snap me in half with those big hands.

This man should terrify me, but I feel nothing but excitement flowing through my body.

“But when I see something I like, I have to have it.”

My dad is still not catching on that the thing he wants is me.

“And you want Carson Flowers?”

He nods at him, but his eyes are locked on me. “I want it really bad.”

My heart is racing, but it’s pumping out arousal, not fear.

I can see my father fidgeting nervously out of the corner of my eyes. “Well, we would be open to… um, listening to… um, any offers on the table.”

“How about two million dollars?”

My jaw drops.

So, does my dad’s. It takes him about 2.1 seconds to think it over. “I think that would be adequate.”

“Good,” Mr. London says as he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a check.

My dad and I look at each other from across the room as he fills it out.

“What the fuck,” my dad mouthes.

“I know!” I mouth back.

“Here you go,” Mr. London says as he rips off the check and hands it to my father.

God, the brazen confidence of this man… he can just buy a company with the snap of his fingers. A company that my father spent his lifetime building. A company that he’s paying way too much for.

My dad’s eyes are the size of silver dollars. “Is this real?”

“Go to the bank and see for yourself.”

“Okay,” my dad says as he heads to the door. “I will. Come on, Hailey.”

“Not her,” Mr. London says. His voice is deep and holds an edge to it. “She stays with me.”

My dad looks up from the check and stares at me with shocked eyes.

“It’s okay, Dad. You go. I’ll see you back at home to celebrate.”

He quickly shakes Mr. London’s hand and then rushes out of the office before any minds can be changed.