Ringing in Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

Catherine. The second was Pete Turner, a client who had been very attentive to her when they’d been working on his firm’s branding and social media campaign. The last was Dominic. Catherine dismissed with a wave of her hand the idea any of those three men would be interested in her. Two of them she hadn’t had any contact with in weeks. The third had stopped showing up in the mornings for their daily ride in the elevator, annoyed, she imagined, that she’d turned him down for lunch.
    She did suggest, if her employees had enough money to waste on frivolous bets, she was paying them too much.
    The sixteen coral roses (“desire,” Melody informed Catherine) that arrived on Friday afternoon were cardless again, leaving Catherine the weekend to wonder who in the world was doing this. She hoped she could stop obsessing about it by burying herself in work as she usually did when Noah was with his father, which was the case this weekend.
    On the Saturdays she worked, Catherine walked from her home in University City to the office. On this particular Saturday, it felt good to be out, even though the air was already warm and predicted to be warmer still by the afternoon.
    Waiting for the light to change so she could cross the street to her building, she saw Dominic striding toward the front door. She watched from a safe distance, dawdling on the corner, pretending to glance at the offerings in the newspaper kiosk instead of what she was really doing—gawking at Dominic.
    After waiting for what she thought was enough time for him to get to his floor, she made her way to the building. But she’d miscalculated. He was coming away from the coffee counter as she walked through the door.
    “Morning, Catherine,” he said as he punched the “up” button.
    “Good morning.” She didn’t meet his eyes, for the first time nervous about being in the elevator with him alone. Although she didn’t know why.
    Before she could sort it out, the man at the security desk interrupted. “I have a delivery for you, Ms. Bennett,” he said as he handed her a large box with green florist paper stapled around what she knew would be more roses. She took the package, wondering how the hell the person sending the flowers knew she worked on Saturdays.
    Dominic held the elevator door for her to enter. “An admirer?” he asked.
    “Something like that,” she muttered, not wanting to answer any questions about the package in her arms. The ten-floor ride to her office was shaping up to be as long as a covered wagon journey to the uncharted west. She was saved at the last minute when Dominic’s creative director, Edie Martin, joined them, barely avoiding being hit by the closing doors. She smiled warmly at Dominic and gave a perfunctory “hello” to Catherine. On the ride to the tenth floor, Edie kept Dominic occupied with mundane office chatter, much to Catherine’s relief.
    Exiting the elevator on her floor felt like she was escaping from an atmosphere overly charged with—with something. She wasn’t sure what.
    Once inside her office, she placed the box on her desk. She didn’t have to rip off the paper to know what was inside. The only thing she didn’t know was what color the thirty-two roses would be.
    They were blush pink, stunningly beautiful, gently perfumed, and without a card. Once more she felt either treasured or stalked. She wasn’t sure which.
    She didn’t get much work accomplished. Silently watching her from most of the level surfaces in her office were different sized containers holding a total of sixty-three roses—she’d counted several times—in a variety of colors and various stages of bloom. They seemed to be asking her a question she couldn’t answer.
    Catherine holed up in her house on Sunday and stayed in her robe until after lunch. But not one of the books she tried to read held her attention for more than a few pages. Even the comics in the newspaper were too hard to follow.
    If only she could figure out who