Blossoms Of Love. J.M. Jeffries
just as the camera came live again, but it was pointed at Jennifer, the meteorologist. He didn’t have to be back to his desk for another four minutes, and for some reason, he wanted to spend those minutes just watching Greer Courtland walk down the hall.
He waved, and an intern came to escort her out.
Once she was out of sight, he turned back to his desk to get ready for his next segment. But her sexy scent remained in his head for the rest of his day. As did the sound of her husky laughter.
* * *
As Greer drove back to her office, she couldn’t keep her mind off her handsome host. Daniel Torres was not what she’d expected.
She hadn’t wanted to go on his show, but her parents had appointed her. She had been so nervous she feared she’d stutter her way through the segment. She didn’t want to embarrass her family, but that sexy hunk of man threw her for a bit of a loop. Never a fan of the unexpected, she almost turned into a puddle of silence when she’d laid eyes on him in person.
As she walked into her office, her sister Rachel peeked in at her and grinned. “We watched the show. You did great. Mom was really impressed.”
Greer shrugged. “I tried.”
“Is he as handsome in person as he is on the screen?”
“You mean Daniel Torres?” She fanned her face. “Oh yes, he is.” She had to admit she liked what she’d seen. “He certainly seemed interested in his float.” Though she was a little confused by this competition with his friend. Not that she wasn’t a competitive person. She’d had to be at Cal Poly. But this contest had so many random factors. What would happen if neither one took the Sweepstakes Trophy? Or if each won a trophy in a different category? The logistics made her head spin. She was always good about designing floats that could take different trophies. She liked to win, and trophies equaled money in the bank. The float business might have been about making pretty things, but she had to make pretty things that won the shinies.
“Interested in his float? I think he was more interested in you,” Rachel said with a sly smile.
A girl could hope. “Don’t be absurd. You read the tabloids. That man goes through starlets like they’re candy.”
“I don’t know. If he was in love with any of the starlets, don’t you think he’d have gotten married by now?”
“Look at George Clooney. He played the field for decades. Daniel Torres has twenty years to go before he finds his forever wife.”
Rachel laughed. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”
Greer shook her head. “I save all my romance for my floats.”
“Yes, and I’m sure they keep you very warm at night.”
“Scooter, Pip and Roscoe are very good at keeping my feet warm at night.” She didn’t need a man. In fact, she didn’t think she wanted one on a permanent basis.
“By the way, Chelsea wants you to come over to the warehouse,” Rachel told her. “She’s testing the hydraulics on Daniel’s float.”
“I’m on my way.”
* * *
The warehouse, where the floats were built before being moved to the parking lot of the Rose Bowl for final prep the week before the parade, was a block away from Greer’s office in an industrial park. Her sister Chelsea stood next to Daniel’s float, a clipboard in hand.
The design presented some height challenges. Floats had to fit underneath the seventeen-foot-high Sierra Madre/I-210 freeway overpass. Anything higher than that had to be lowered by hydraulics in mere seconds. Daniel’s final design featured several monarch butterflies flying high off into the sky.
“Good, you’re here,” Chelsea said.
The skeleton of the float looked eerie without any of the flowers that would be added the final week before the parade. It was all welded steel and covered in chicken wire and plastic.
Other similarly staged floats surrounded Daniel’s. A welder sat on the chassis of the adjacent one, his welder spitting fire.
“I enjoyed the show this morning,” Chelsea said.
“I wanted Mom and Dad to send you.” Greer thought Chelsea was the most beautiful of all of them. She was tall and willowy with a dancer’s grace, though at the moment she just looked tired. Her long hair had been pulled into a scrunchie, but half of it was out and floated around her head like a halo.
“I’m too busy.” Chelsea handled quality control. Her job was to make sure everything worked right and looked right, down to the smallest detail. “You’re in the consulting phase now and can be spared.”
“All I have left is to start gluing on flowers.” And other organic material. Though flowers were the main starting point for any float, many areas were covered in seeds and grasses to add texture to the overall design.
“I was checking the hydraulics,” Chelsea continued, “and I wanted you to watch.” She waved at a man half-hidden in a well in the chassis. He waved back, and slowly the butterflies on the rear of the float began to descend.
Before she could comment, Greer’s phone rang. “Hello?”
“Miss Greer Courtland? My name is Logan Pierce.”
“Excuse me,” Greer said, having a hard time hearing over the noise of the welder. She stepped toward the back door open to the parking lot.
“This is Logan Pierce,” he repeated. “I saw you on Daniel’s show this morning. I was wondering if we could meet.”
“Why?” His own float was being built by another company.
“I’ve never had a woman ask me why I wanted to take her out to dinner.”
“I’m asking.” She tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice.
“I watched your interview with Daniel, and you were pretty funny. I want to get to know you.”
She paused. “How did you get my phone number?” She never gave it to people she didn’t know.
“My connections are staggering,” he responded with a wry chuckle.
“Really. How did you get my number?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “I have a personal assistant who would make the CIA, FBI and NSA weep with envy.”
“I see.” Should she meet with him? She was deeply curious about the rivalry between the two men, and Daniel’s answers this morning hadn’t satisfied her curiosity. Maybe Logan’s would. “I thought you were in New York.”
“I’m visiting family for Thanksgiving. My parents still live in Santa Monica.”
Meeting him wouldn’t hurt, she supposed. “Where do you want to meet?”
“How about dinner at Craig’s? I’ll pick you up, say around 6:30.”
He sounded pleasant enough, but since he was based in New York, she didn’t know anything about Logan Pierce.
“No. I’ll meet you there.” She wasn’t about to put herself in a spot she couldn’t get out of.
“I’ll send a car for you.”
“I’ll drive myself.” She didn’t want to be dependent on this man when she didn’t know him from Adam. If she wanted to leave, she wanted to be able to do so on her terms.
He laughed, a rich, vibrant sound. “Seven, then, at Craig’s.”
“Okay,” she said before she ended the call. Craig’s! That was pretty classy. Celebrities were routinely spotted there, she thought as she turned to find Chelsea watching her. “You’ll never guess who that was.”
“Daniel Torres