Chance hesitated a moment. There did not seem to be anything to say that would change the situation, so he acquiesced to her wishes. “Good night, Marcie Roper.” He flashed a devilish smile that said she would definitely be seeing him again. “Pleasant dreams.”

Marcie watched as he crossed the parking lot to his car. The audacity of the man. Her disgust sounded loud and clear in her thoughts. He was obviously accustomed to thinking everyone would simply drop whatever they were doing to cater to his whims. Well, he had another think coming where she was concerned. Unlike other people, she was not impressed with whom he was.

Her fingertips lightly touched her lips. No matter what she tried to tell herself, she could not shake the very real sensuality of his kiss. He personified everything she found unacceptable, yet she was unable to dismiss him from her mind.

Pleasant dreams, indeed! She returned to her close-out chores as she made yet another unsuccessful attempt at shoving Chance Fowler from her thoughts.

The gray streaks of predawn light had not yet penetrated the black sky when Marcie pulled the nursery van out of the parking lot and headed south toward San Diego. She stifled a yawn, then reached for her travel mug of coffee. The night had been far too short, the alarm jarring her awake way too early. She had gone to bed in plenty of time to get enough sleep... if she had been able to sleep. As much as she tried to ignore it, however, thoughts and images of Chance Fowler kept circulating through her mind.

Regardless of how attractive she found him and how much he heated her desires, she knew nothing would be gained from speculating about where things might have led if she had accepted his initial invitation to join him for a drink, or his later offer to have dinner with him. He was an irresponsible, headline-grabbing playboy who did not know the first thing about hard work and commitment. That was everything she knew about him and it was everything she needed to know.

She drained the last swallow from her coffee mug just as she pulled into the flower mart. She parked the van, locked the door, then hurried inside to make her purchases. She stifled another yawn. It was going to be a very long day.

Chance glanced at his watch. Five forty-five in the morning was a wretched time to be up, but some things were worth a little extra sacrifice. He spotted the nursery van as soon as he pulled into the parking lot and he quickly secured a parking space for himself. After spending a restless night in an unsuccessful attempt to shove the memory of Marcie Roper’s taste and feel from his mind he had come to the conclusion that she was definitely one of those exceptions among women—at least the ones he knew—and it was definitely worth a great deal of effort on his part to get to know her better.

There was something special about her that reached out to him, something that made a direct connection to the place inside him that yearned for more than his relationships of the past had brought him. The kiss they had shared told him there was a very sensual woman beneath that practical exterior. He did not intend to let her slip away.

He wandered around for a bit, surprised at all the activity taking place at that hour of the morning. He finally spotted Marcie. He paused for a moment as he watched her signing something and handing it back to a sales clerk. He studied the way she moved, the way her clothes fit her body, the delicate features surrounded by the softly feathered auburn curls. He took a deep breath in an effort to break the tightness that banded his chest. No other woman had ever affected him in quite this manner and he found it very perplexing—and far too disturbingly real.

He saw her struggle with a large flatbed cart stacked with boxes and he hurried to assist her.

“Let me help you with that.” He immediately took control of maneuvering the unwieldy cart as if there were nothing unusual about him being there. He purposely ignored her shocked expression as he pushed the cart in the direction she had been heading.

He kept the conversation light and upbeat. “I’m experiencing a strange sensation of having helped you move something heavy once before...almost as if it were only yesterday.” He turned toward her and flashed a teasing grin. “How about you? Have you ever had similar feelings of déjà vu?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought it was obvious. I’m helping you with your cart.” He reached down and opened one of the boxes, pausing a moment as he inspected the contents. He looked at her questioningly. “Fresh-cut flowers?”

“Hardly unusual since this is the wholesale flower mart and I do own a flower shop.”

“Yes, but you also have a nursery.” He replaced the lid on the box and steered the cart slowly along the aisle.

She walked with him, still not clear as to why he was there or what he wanted. “One has nothing to do with the other. Cut flowers and floral arrangements are a different business from plants and landscaping.”

He extended a warm smile. “That’s gratifying.”

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “What’s gratifying?”

“Learning something new is gratifying, even at this horrible hour of the morning.”

“Isn’t this a little too early for someone like you to be up?” She detected the sarcasm that surrounded her words, but seemed to be unable to stop it. “Or are you still up from last night?”

He stopped the cart and leaned against the handle, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow as he leveled a steady gaze in her direction. He hid behind a neutral mask, his expression revealing almost no hint of what was going through his mind. Only the slightest indication of discomfort darted through his eyes, almost as if he had flinched in reaction to a physical attack.

She immediately regretted her words. It had been uncalled for and unnecessary. His eyes were clear and alert, rather than bloodshot, and he appeared rested. He certainly did not look as if he had been up partying all night.

She glanced down at the floor, then regained eye contact with him. A tickle of embarrassment immediately caught hold. “I—I’m sorry. It was unfair of me to have said that.”

“Yes, it was unfair.” There was no anger in his voice nor was there any hostility attached to his words. There was, however, a hint of puzzlement. “What made you do it?”

“Well...” Anxiety churned in the pit of her stomach. He had every right to be angry with her, but he seemed more hurt than anything else. “You do have to admit that you have a certain reputation.” She felt the heat of her embarrassment flush across her cheeks as she continued to speak. “Heir to the family fortune, member of the privileged elite...well-known playboy.”

“You make it sound as if being born to wealthy parents is some sort of sin, or worse yet, a terrible disease.”

“I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. It’s just that your exploits have been pretty thoroughly documented by the press—”

“Oh?” He started walking again, pushing the heavy cart in front of him. “You’re a fan of the tabloids?”

“No. I mean, well...I sometimes glance at the headlines while standing in the checkout line at the grocery store, but so does everyone else.”

“You believe everything you read in the newspapers?”

“Well, no...but—”

“I see.” A hint of annoyance crept into his voice. “Normally you wouldn’t believe everything you read, but you decided to make an exception in my case.”

Marcie knew his words were true and justified, but they did not alter her opinion. “We’re obviously different types of people, that’s all. You have your life-style and I have mine.”

“You make ‘life-style’ sound like some sort of affliction.” An amused twinkle danced through his eyes and a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I can see that I need to do some serious damage control here.”