Desire Love and Passion

chapter 4



Willow glanced at the number on caller id. It was him. She looked away remembering the last evening. She was certain if he allowed it, she would not have spent the night alone. Heat rose to her face at her embarrassment. What did he think of her?

The liberal side of her that liked to think it lived by a world-be-damned attitude, immediately tried to console her. She turned back to the laptop and tried to concentrate on the task in front of her.

She supposed he must have dialed at least three times in succession before giving up. She hit the mute button, plugged in her iPod and locked out the world.

James was disappointed when she didn’t answer. He wanted to explain his actions last night. He had no idea what she was thinking but he guessed whatever it was, couldn’t be good.

He was good at masking his emotions, at not letting himself go, especially when he knew there was no tomorrow. It felt different with her. It felt like they’d already had many yesterdays and tomorrow was more than a possibility. James no was no believer in love at first sight, but he knew without a doubt, he was in love with her. He knew he was in love with her from the moment those big brown eyes had stared up at him from the car. His feelings were not rational. It was not that he fell in love with her; it was as if he had always loved her. Something familiar and sensual in her woke a part of him that had never existed before. He wanted her. He felt he had always wanted her, and not just for a quick romp in the sack.

"The car is a write-off," Larry said.

James turned to the intruder. He was deep in thoughts. Larry was briefing him on the wrecked cars.

"What?"

"The Volkswagen is a total write-off. I have arranged for the Porsche to be sold to a salvage dealer and arrangements for the replacement have already been made."

"Buy her a new car."

"I say we offer her market value for the car before the accident."

"Buy her a new car," James repeated.

"Her car was three years old I think -."

"Buy the newest model in the same style," James said. "Also Larry, please send two dozen orange and white roses to WB Marketing and arrange for Giles to delivery similar to her home."

"Is there a message?" Larry asked abruptly.

"Yes," James said. "Sorry."

"I beg your pardon, Sir."

"The message should say sorry."

"Sir, I do not believe -."

"You only hide behind formalities when you have something to say that you know I won’t like, so spit it out already. What is it?"

"I think it is enough that we are getting her a new car. I do not see why we should grovel at her feet. It was an accident plain and simple."

"Thank you for your observations. Now do as I said and let me know when the flowers are delivered."

Larry was surprised, taken aback even. James was usually mindful of his input.

The doorbell interrupted the otherwise quiet afternoon. Willow was skeptical as she opened the door. She made a mental note to install a peephole in the front door so she could see who her visitors were before opening up. It was the driver from the previous evening. He stood with a large basket of roses.

"Giles?" she said hoping she had recalled his name correctly.

"Miss Barnes," he said politely. "I was asked to deliver these to you."

"Oh," she said as she took the basket from him. "Thank you. Please, if we’re going to be bumping into each other on this small rock, call me Willow."

The driver smiled. He then gave her an envelope. It was not the one that came with the basket. It was a separate note. The envelope bore the beautiful and neat insignia of JM. She thanked Giles and closed the door. She put the basket of flowers on the nearest surface that would have it and opened the envelope.

It read, 'I am sorry about last night. My intention was not to make you uncomfortable. I would like to try again. I promise to be more civil this time. Wednesday evening 6:00 p.m. Please give your answer to the messenger'.

"Oh my," Willow said as she ran to the door. Giles was standing there as if he knew he had to wait. "I am so sorry. I thought that was it. Please come in. I am so sorry."

He nodded curtly as if to say he understood but stood his ground.

"Come in," she repeated.

"I do not want to take up your time," he said.

"We don't have to be so formal."

"Yes ma'am," Giles said but did not enter.

Willow gave up. This time she left the door open. She found a pen and scratched a quick reply on a piece of paper, stuffed it in the envelope and gave it back to Giles.

"Have a good evening, ma'am."

With that he turned and left.

James was caught between anxiety and apprehension. He stared at the envelope that Giles returned to him. His thoughts were unusually negative. What if she’d said no? What if he’d missed his chance with her?

It was late evening just before bed when he finally decided to read her reply.

'Hello James, I would like to thank you for the offer. However, I believe it is best if we do not see each other again. I too, am sorry about last night. I was not my usual self. - WB.'

He folded the paper and tucked it away in the top drawer of his bedside table. The answer was disappointing but not unexpected.

He lay on his back, hands folded behind his head. He thought about her, about her smile. He remembered the way she felt against him, how warm her breath was against his lips. She didn't hesitate, didn't pull away when others had closed their eyes in disgust. No other had so excited or intrigued him.

He had to see her. He turned out the lights and in the darkness, hatched a plan to do just that.

Willow made it to WB Marketing at almost eleven thirty on Wednesday morning. She spent Tuesday doing what she did best, her photography. She was acutely aware of the receptionist giving her a new look. Then Nancy French, her partner walking out of her office as Willow whizzed by.

"Did I miss a meeting?" Willow asked.

"You didn't tell me you were seeing someone," Nancy said catching up to her longtime friend.

"I'm not seeing anyone," Willow said.

"Liar."

Another associate passed and more stares.

"What are you talking about?" Willow said.

"Well, someone sent you roses on Monday."

Willow stopped walking. How did she know?

"How -?"

"It was delivered around three in the afternoon," Nancy said. "I was going to call you, but I figured you would be in yesterday or at the very least today to finalize that new postage design."

"A bunch of flowers does not mean I’m dating," Willow said as she turned the knob on the door to her office.

The scent of roses, lavender, and a host of other scents wafted out to her. There were at least a dozen bouquets of flowers. She stopped in her tracks.

"The roses came Monday," Nancy informed her. "The others have been coming in since nine yesterday morning and every fifteen minutes until we closed. It started again today. It must have been a hell of a night or one heck of a fight."

Willow didn't answer as she walked over to her desk. She dropped her car keys, put down the coffee and the briefcase she carried. Her office was fast resembling a small floral shop.

"I restrained myself," Nancy said. "I didn't read the cards."

Nancy plucked the card from the first delivery and gave it to Willow. She glanced at the note. It was the same as she received at the house Monday. She dropped the card on her desk beside her keys. Nancy snatched it up almost immediately.

"Look, no name." Nancy said. "But, you did something together on Sunday night. And his initials are JM. Who is it?"

There was a knock on the office door. It was Emily, the receptionist. She had another floral arrangement in her hand.

"Where do you want me to put this?" Emily asked.

"How about at your desk?" Willow answered.

"It has a card," the receptionist replied.

Willow walked over and plucked the card from the stick. She realized that with the exception of the roses, all the other plants were live plants.

"I have an idea," Willow said to Emily. "Why don't you see who would like a bouquet in their work space or to take home."

"You're giving them away?" Emily asked.

"Yes."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Emily asked as she picked up a pot of expensive rare orchids.

"Yes, I am."

"So who is he?" Nancy asked again when they were alone. "Are you going to read the other notes?"

Willow glanced at the tiny card in her hand. She opened it.

'Every flower is the part of my soul that dies the longer I wait to make things right with you. They will come every fifteen minutes - the time it takes for me to get your answer by courier. When they have stopped coming you will have either said you forgive me and a second chance is ours or that part of me that was touched by your light has been forever lost to darkness.'

"A poet," Nancy said reading over her friend's shoulders. "That is so romantic."

"Crazy is more like it," Willow said. "Come on, let's prepare for that meeting. Have you had a chance to read my email?"

"Not yet. So who is he?" Nancy persisted.

"Nobody," Willow said.

"Come on, you can tell me."

"I can't and he's nobody," Willow said. "We have work to do."

Her meeting lasted well over an hour. Four more plants were delivered during that time. Emily had, in addition to giving away a few, created quite the fresh arrangement for the front office.

Willow pounded out his telephone number a little after three o'clock when another large pot of rare orchids arrived. That plant started a lottery in the design department.

"Stop," she said as soon as he answered.

"How are you?"

"Stop," she said. "You cannot continue sending these flowers. My clients will start to think we are becoming a botanical business."

"You know what will make me stop?"

"A substantial dent in your bank account?" she asked.

"I could buy every plant in Europe before that happens," he replied. "Make me stop."

"You're not endearing yourself to me right now," she said. "You are proving why I must never see you again."

"I just want the opportunity to apologize," he said.

"Apology accepted. Now stop."

"Come on Willow. You can't tell me you didn’t feel the way I felt on Sunday night."

"Please, don't remind me. I made a fool of myself."

"What are you talking about? I was the idiot."

"I will have you know I don't get that close with anyone on a first date."

"I really would like to see you again," he said.

"I'm sorry, I don't do eat outs with the rich and famous."

"We'll dine in. I was thinking of a Taiwanese hot pot. I rarely have company to make it worth the effort."

"If I say yes, will you stop this madness?"

"I promise."

"When?" she asked.

"Tonight. Giles can pick you up at say seven o'clock. Will that work for you?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Willow spent another two hours in the office. He was true to his words. There were no more bouquets.

"I guess you forgave him," Nancy said as she poked her head in Willow's office before leaving for the day.