All Shook Up

Vera was serving Marcus a drink when the flowers arrived — vodka martini in a sweating-cold glass she handed him while she went to answer the door. The two enormous bouquets, each in its own cut-glass vase, completely overwhelmed the coffee table. She tipped the delivery girl and closed the door behind her to coo with delight at the blossoms, heavy-headed crimson roses on long green stems and lush tulips of such a dark purple they looked black.

He’d brought her flowers, too, a much smaller bundle of white lilies tied with a black ribbon she intended to use to bind his hands later, if he seemed into it. And if he didn’t? Well…at least she’d tried. Marcus didn’t know that yet, though. Now he frowned, eyeing the huge bouquets that had dwarfed his.

“It’s not the size that matters,” Vera said with a laugh and added as her laughter smoothed, “you brought me exactly what I asked for. That’s what I care about.”

He didn’t ask her who’d sent the flowers, but she could see that he wanted to know. This pleased her, the fact he kept his curiosity under control, that he didn’t launch into some kind of accusation about her loyalty to him, that he didn’t let his precious masculinity get in the way of his respect for her. These were all good signs that he was capable of being her good boy -- and within her rose a momentary flush of something she didn’t dare call...