Anything but Flowers

By Cheryl Brooks

For Brooklyn florist Caroline Kendall, flowers represent business rather than pleasure. That is, until a handsome customer piques her interest, causing her to speculate about his relationship to the recipient of the bouquets he sends on a regular basis.
Kahlil Omar Mahlik Al-Shammari is wealthy enough to buy anything a woman might want, but his family’s reputation isn’t the finest. Although smitten with Caroline, his inherent shyness and a history with women who are only interested in his money make him reluctant to take the first step.
When an unlikely accident brings them together, the sexual chemistry is undeniable. But is their mutual attraction enough to overcome the pitfalls of romance between a small-business owner and a super-rich oil tycoon?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheryl Brooks
• Release date: Aug 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781736030943

Cheryl Brooks

A native of Louisville, Kentucky, Cheryl Brooks is a former critical care nurse who resides in rural Indiana with her husband, two sons, two horses, three cats, and one dog. She is the author of the ten book Cat Star Chronicles series, the Cowboy Heaven series (two books and one novella), the Soul Survivors trilogy, the four book Unlikely Lovers series, and several stand-alone books and novellas. Her other interests include cooking and gardening. Cheryl is a member of RWA and IRWA. You can visit her online at www.cherylbrooksonline.com or email her at [e-mail].

Book preview

Anything But Flowers

A Valentine Novella

Cheryl Brooks

Copyright

Anything But Flowers

by Cheryl Brooks

Published by Derrymane Press

Copyright © 2023 Cheryl Brooks.

ISBN: 978-1-7360309-4-3

Cover Design by Cheryl Brooks

Images: Book Brush

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [e-mail]

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. https://www.cherylbrooksonline.com/

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Titles by Cheryl Brooks

Chapter 1

Norma leaned closer and whispered, He’s ba-a-ak.

Caroline Kendall glanced up from the lilies she was trimming, but only to say, So go ask him what he wants.

You need to wait on him, luv. You’re the one he’s here to see.

Despite the inherent charm of her lilting Scottish accent, Norma McKenna’s knowing tone grated on Caroline’s already frayed nerves. Valentine’s Day might be three weeks away, but the orders were already piling up. Closing her eyes, she drew in a fortifying breath. If I was the one he was sending flowers to, I might believe that. As it is, I’m fairly certain I don’t live in the Hamptons.

He’s just a good son, sending flowers to his dear old mum.

"If he was truly a good son, he’d be taking them to her, not sending them."

Norma waved her shears dismissively. He’s a busy man. No doubt a real-estate tycoon or an oil man.

Caroline snorted. Yeah, right. More like a Mafioso type, if you ask me.

Not a drop of Italian blood in him, I’ll wager.

You would know, of course. That the man had money to burn was obvious. Three-piece suits and a haircut worthy of a master stylist, not to mention the Jaguar parked outside, spoke volumes.

Norma gave her a push. Go on, then. Trust me.

Caroline rolled her eyes, dropped her shears with a clatter, and wiped her hands on her apron. Putting on a smile she was far from feeling, she headed for the front counter.

Norma hadn’t been mistaken. It was him, all right. From the top of his thick dark hair to the fur collar of his wool overcoat and on down to his shiny black loafers. As always, Caroline wasn’t sure whether to greet the man with the familiarity of a regular customer or a newbie. No surprise, she opted for the latter. May I help you?

Dark eyes flashed in recognition and the usual dazzling smile followed. He certainly was a looker. Caroline revised her Mafioso impression of him to that of an Arab sheik. A mental image of him in the white headdress and long, flowing robes popped into her head—an image that fit him like a freakin’ glove.

Perhaps Norma was right about the oil man thing, after all, which would explain the aura of wealth that surrounded him. Not that Caroline was impressed by wealth, aside from allowing those people blessed with it to buy flowers—and lots of them.

I would like a dozen of your most beautiful roses sent to this address. He handed her an embossed card.

Same name, same address in the Hamptons.

Any particular color? Oddly enough, roses were a new choice for him. He tended to go with lilies or the occasional gladiola.

You choose, he replied. I trust you implicitly.

Caroline turned her snort into a cough with dubious success. Would you like to include a card? She gestured toward the rack at the end of the counter. So far, with the exception of his choice flowers, their interaction was following the standard script.

Of course.

As he moved to peruse the cards, she decided to change things up a bit. When would you like the flowers to arrive?

He waved a hand. As soon as is convenient. No hurry.

That was odd, although not unwelcome, considering the bulk of orders to be delivered on Valentine’s Day. No special occasion, then?

He glanced up from the cards, his smile somewhat wistful. For her, every day is a special occasion.

Caroline didn’t know what to make of that. Were the woman’s days numbered or was she one of those incurably cheerful types? I see, was the only reply she could think of.

Choosing a card seemed to be taking him an inordinate amount of time.

Wish I had that much time to kill.

She was about to chivvy him along when he finally took out a card and signed it—for the first time choosing one that didn’t come with an envelope. Since he was one of the few customers who paid in cash, she’d had no idea what his name was—until now. She glanced at the card, doing her best not to appear too curious.

Mahlik… Okay, definitely Arabic.

Which made Norma’s oil man suggestion even more likely.

Oh, no it doesn’t. That was too stereotypical. He was just another New York businessman sending flowers to his mother.

At least, she hoped it was his mother, although why she hoped that, she couldn’t have said.

Or wouldn’t have said. Admitting she was attracted to one of her customers went against the grain. Besides, there was no future in it.