Page 38 of Highest Bid

He smiled and winked. “Don’t thank me, I’m just the delivery guy.”

She closed the door to his retreating back, before she inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers deep into her lungs. Beautiful. She drew the card free from the center of the bouquet.

Roses are red,

Orchids are white,

I want you in my bed,

All day and all night.

See you at dinner, firecracker.

She couldn’t help but giggle at the message. She could seriously get used to Galan’s dry wit. Carefully arranging the flowers in a vase, she placed them in the center of her table and stood back to admire the display. It was startling to realize in her twenty-three years this was the first time she’d received flowers from anyone.

Forgoing her usual Sunday bacon and eggs for a coffee and quick breakfast of Vegemite on toast, she then took a long, cool shower before she drew on pink three-quarter pants, a cutoff chambray shirt, and white canvas flats.

The outfit was cute, but suddenly she wanted more than that. She wanted a little bit of glamor and sophistication, wanted to compete against those women Galan had bedded who looked as if they’d stepped right off a fashion runway.

Except she didn’t own any dresses aside from her little black going-out gown. Her closet mostly consisted of work uniforms, shorts, jeans and Tees.

Giving in to the sudden compulsion, she grabbed her handbag and headed out of her apartment toward the nearest boutique. She walked past it nearly every day, and had peeked at the gorgeous clothes in its storefront window too many times to count.

A saleslady was quick to approach, but Layla brushed off her help. She wanted time to dither over each piece she tried on, wanted to ensure whatever clothes she bought wouldn’t be hard-earned money thrown down the drain.

In the end, she chose a dark green, V-neck asymmetrical evening dress with shoulder sequins. The saleslady returned, quick to bring her a pair of strappy, high-heeled silver shoes, before she then presented her with a few bits of slinky sleepwear.

“And what about casual wear?” the sales lady asked, her sharp stare taking in Layla. “We have some racks that are currently half price.”

Half an hour later, Layla just barely refrained from flinching when she handed over her bank card to pay for the stash of clothes. She’d come in to find a dress or two and was walking out with bags of lingerie, casual clothes, including some pretty dresses, underwear, shoes, and a designer gown.

But her step was light when she walked back home. Everything had fit her perfectly and, looking into the dressing room mirror, she’d imagined herself through Galan’s eyes and was proud of the way she looked.

It was nice for once to not try to be invisible, nice to want someone’s eyes on her.

Stepping inside her apartment, she carefully put her purchases away. Then, flicking on the stereo, she listened to music while she tidied her apartment, dusting, vacuuming, and mopping, anything to stop thinking about dinner tonight...and afterward.

When the whole apartment sparkled and she was close to exhausted, she ran a bath with scented citrus oils and slid into the luxurious water.

By six o’clock, she was scrubbed shiny and clean, and feeling like a million bucks in her new gown and shoes, with her hair freefalling down her back. She leaned close to the bathroom mirror to smear bright crimson on her lips. The color contrasted perfectly with her dark hair and deep-green gown.

A knock sounded on her door a minute later, and she opened it to Galan. Her breath caught. In light colored jeans and a navy polo shirt, he looked sexy as fuck. It took her a handful of seconds to even realize his hands were loaded with grocery bags.

His eyes widened as he looked her up and down. “Sweet Jesus, Layla, you’re gorgeous.” He held up the bags. “I was going to cook for you, but I think I need to take you out and show you off.”

She smiled, warmth spreading through her. It meant more that he wanted to cook for her than the fact that he could take her to any restaurant and throw money around. This was more personal, with far more effort. She swung the door wide. “I wore this dress for you, not anyone else.”

He stepped forward and, hands still full of the bags, he bent low and murmured, “Then I’m a lucky man.” His eyes glinted, before his mouth covered hers in a long, luxurious kiss that sent need spiraling through her body, before settling deep in her womb.

When he finally drew back, they were both breathing hard. But his smile warmed his voice when he said, “I’m guessing you missed me as much as I missed you.”

She nodded and took an unsteady step back to make room for him and the grocery bags. “I guess I did.” He stepped past, and as he placed the bags on her kitchen counter, she swept a hand toward the vase and said, “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

He glanced at the colorful bouquet. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Almost as much as I liked your card. It was very...poetic.”

“And very true,” he added huskily. Clearing his throat he looked around her spotless apartment and said, “It looks like you didn’t rest much on your day off.”

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